hobbit_feets: (c'lebs || storyteller)
Hello, dearest darlingest Yuletide writer of fabulosity!

Are you excited for Yuletide?  You should be.  I am excited for Yuletide.  A pre-emptive thanks for putting yourself out there to write me something, as is tradition.  I am all sorts of excited to see what you come out with, and am sure it will be excellent and fabulous. Here are ways, however, to make it even more awesome.

Things Wot Delight Me and Make Me Roll Around: Unique use of language and obscure/archaic words, historical accuracy, fiddly details, black humour, unconventional relationships, semi-colons, realistic and well-rounded depictions of queer characters, awkwardness, realistic dialogue, UST, kisses, literary and historical references, worldbuilding sneaky nods to canon, endings which are also beginnings, snark, banter.

Things What Harsh My Squee: Non-con/rape, poor spelling and grammar, characters behaving OOC-ly, or being dumb for purposes of the plot

details under the cutlet )

All of that said, if you already have a storm of ideas roiling around in your brain that have nothing to do with any of my rambling prompts, let them loose!  There is nothing quite so lovely as getting a fic for Yuletide that is something you never knew you wanted, but once written, is Everything You Ever Needed in a Fic.

If you have any further inquiries, I should direct you over to [livejournal.com profile] earlwyn, as we cohabitate in each other's brains.
hobbit_feets: (c'lebs || one pill makes you small)
Just had the strangest dream in the world.  I'm going to try to write it all down before I forget it, because it was intensely long and complicated.

I was working overnight at Target, as I did this summer, when one of my supervisors pulled me aside  to chastise me for laundering some pillows incorrectly, despite the fact that working overnights at Target doen't involve laundering anything.  But there was a massive warehouse in the back full of washing machines, so I set to re-doing the pillows.  Next to the laundry room was another giant warehouse type room full of liquid caramel.  Like the entire room was a tank just full of the stuff, and it was being produced in there as well.  But something went wrong in the production and there was more than could be contained in the room, and the sheer volume started breaking through the door, and then the wall, and basically subsuming the entire building in a slow, creeping wave of glutinous liquid caramel.  There was a massive panic, people were being sucked in and dying horribly, and it lasted for ages, in dream-time.  Hours.  I was seriously convinced that I was going to die, and it was incredibly awful and scary.  I tried several escape routes, all of which were blocked, but eventually I, and three others, managed to break through into the outdoors, because the caramel had abated enough in this particular area for us to be able to slog through it to a bridge.

It was a hot summer night and nearly all the electricity had been knocked out, so everything was all dark, and we were all sticky and sweaty and half in tears from sheer terror and relief.  I didn't know where we were, but one girl lived nearby, so we made our way to her house, and all just stripped off and got in the bath and huddled there, until her father found us, and was all desperately relieved and gave us clothes and fed us.

At some point after we were dry and fed and significantly less sticky, this snake appeared, all bejewelled, with lavender eyes, and told the four of us that now that the world had descended into this state (apparently, there was a more general apocalyptic-type something, in addition to the caramel flood), it was going to be the task of the four of us to guide and reorganise and protect, and that in order to do so, we'd been granted powers that had something to do with a small piece of enamelled jewellery we'd each ended up with, seemingly by chance, over the course of this ordeal.  I can't remember much about them, other than that there was a very particular design aesthetic that continued with the enamel and the snake and any other things associated with these powers that we now had.  Mine was a gauntlet ring made to look like fruiting vines.  And my powers manifested in some way which had to do with... prophecy, and replicating energy, and beams of blue-white light.  The powers were less effective individually, they had to be used in concert, because of... whatever destiny the four of us were fulfilling.

The next day we went out to do something, and everything was just devastated, trees pulled down under the weight of the flood and everything still sticky, with insects everywhere, and sometimes trapped in the caramel residue, so you'd get this pathetic, dying buzz of attempted escape from all around.  I had a moment of panic when I realised that I didn't know whether my family was all right, but I never found out.  Instead I ended up calling my friend Emily to freak out at her, but she was alive, and fine.

And then it did a temporal jump, in the way dreams can, to us in some old cathedral, fighting some sort of ye old cliched Foot Soldiers of Evil.  But I was having difficulties making my powers work correctly, and the Evil General in suitably wicked and poison ivy-embossed armour came out to taunt me about it, and there was a whole section of the dream where we were just fighting, and I was trying to figure out why I couldn't function the way I could in the beginning of the dream.

And then there was an exceptionally bizarre leap, and I was explaining to my mother that sperm can penetrate the human eyeball because the mucous membrane that covers it is the same as that which surrounds the ovum.  I have no idea where that came into things.
hobbit_feets: (c'lebs || one pill makes you small)
Just had the strangest dream in the world.  I'm going to try to write it all down before I forget it, because it was intensely long and complicated.

I was working overnight at Target, as I did this summer, when one of my supervisors pulled me aside  to chastise me for laundering some pillows incorrectly, despite the fact that working overnights at Target doen't involve laundering anything.  But there was a massive warehouse in the back full of washing machines, so I set to re-doing the pillows.  Next to the laundry room was another giant warehouse type room full of liquid caramel.  Like the entire room was a tank just full of the stuff, and it was being produced in there as well.  But something went wrong in the production and there was more than could be contained in the room, and the sheer volume started breaking through the door, and then the wall, and basically subsuming the entire building in a slow, creeping wave of glutinous liquid caramel.  There was a massive panic, people were being sucked in and dying horribly, and it lasted for ages, in dream-time.  Hours.  I was seriously convinced that I was going to die, and it was incredibly awful and scary.  I tried several escape routes, all of which were blocked, but eventually I, and three others, managed to break through into the outdoors, because the caramel had abated enough in this particular area for us to be able to slog through it to a bridge.

It was a hot summer night and nearly all the electricity had been knocked out, so everything was all dark, and we were all sticky and sweaty and half in tears from sheer terror and relief.  I didn't know where we were, but one girl lived nearby, so we made our way to her house, and all just stripped off and got in the bath and huddled there, until her father found us, and was all desperately relieved and gave us clothes and fed us.

At some point after we were dry and fed and significantly less sticky, this snake appeared, all bejewelled, with lavender eyes, and told the four of us that now that the world had descended into this state (apparently, there was a more general apocalyptic-type something, in addition to the caramel flood), it was going to be the task of the four of us to guide and reorganise and protect, and that in order to do so, we'd been granted powers that had something to do with a small piece of enamelled jewellery we'd each ended up with, seemingly by chance, over the course of this ordeal.  I can't remember much about them, other than that there was a very particular design aesthetic that continued with the enamel and the snake and any other things associated with these powers that we now had.  Mine was a gauntlet ring made to look like fruiting vines.  And my powers manifested in some way which had to do with... prophecy, and replicating energy, and beams of blue-white light.  The powers were less effective individually, they had to be used in concert, because of... whatever destiny the four of us were fulfilling.

The next day we went out to do something, and everything was just devastated, trees pulled down under the weight of the flood and everything still sticky, with insects everywhere, and sometimes trapped in the caramel residue, so you'd get this pathetic, dying buzz of attempted escape from all around.  I had a moment of panic when I realised that I didn't know whether my family was all right, but I never found out.  Instead I ended up calling my friend Emily to freak out at her, but she was alive, and fine.

And then it did a temporal jump, in the way dreams can, to us in some old cathedral, fighting some sort of ye old cliched Foot Soldiers of Evil.  But I was having difficulties making my powers work correctly, and the Evil General in suitably wicked and poison ivy-embossed armour came out to taunt me about it, and there was a whole section of the dream where we were just fighting, and I was trying to figure out why I couldn't function the way I could in the beginning of the dream.

And then there was an exceptionally bizarre leap, and I was explaining to my mother that sperm can penetrate the human eyeball because the mucous membrane that covers it is the same as that which surrounds the ovum.  I have no idea where that came into things.
hobbit_feets: (cat || bookworm)
I've been dreadful at updating of late, but I figured, being as I am doing the whole, 'exciting term abroad' whatsit, this would be an ideal opportunity to get back into it.

I flew on on Monday-slash-Tuesday.  Which is to say, because of the magic of time differences, I left Monday morning, and arrived Tuesday morning.  The flights went smoothly, I helped my companion navigate the airport and subsequently the train station, and felt very competent, and we got into the university at about ten.  Following this comparatively smooth arrival, I:

             ~ discovered a man sleeping illicitly in my room
             ~ was responsible for accidentally blowing out the electricity for the entire floor
             ~ trekked across campus four times in my quest to acquire internet
             ~ acquired internet!
             ~ conducted a rudimentary shop to acquire such necessities as tea, bread, and ginger beer
 
The next day I went into the city for a mobile phone, a towel, an alarm clock to replace the one I killed in blowing out the floor's electricity, etc.  It took a great deal of wandering around and getting lost, but eventually I got where I wanted to go, and felt v. accomplished in the doing.  Lancaster, for all people have called it a small town, is actually a decently sized city.  British traffic still terrifies me, but I have four months to get used to it, I suppose.  After I got back from my errands, I met some of the other people here on the ISP, and was invited out for drinks with them and a score and some of my other coursemates.  We descended upon one of the campus pubs in a wave of Americans, and lavished our money upon the long-suffering bartender, Joe.  Whilst there, we were joined by Davey, whom a few other the others had met already.  Davey is a member of staff who used to lecture in film history, a Cornish bloke in his forties with a shaved head, an ankh dangling from one ear, a pentacle from the other, fingers bedecked with rings, and a fantastic sense of humour.  He took particular bemused delight in poking at my accent, which I can already hear shifting.  I found someone whom I was able to drunkenly bitch with about how no-one uses the past perfect anymore.  So clearly I will not be lacking for good company for this first month.

And then this morning, we had a bit of an orientation, got our course packets and reading material, found out what exactly we'd be studying and what will be expected of us.  I am geekily incredibly excited, because research!  ~Annotated bibliographies!  Critical reading!  Classes proper will start on Monday; in addition to lectures and seminars, we've a weekly field trip.  This week we're going to the Lake District to see Dove Cottage.  Should be awesomefab.

Later I will do pictures of my room and the campus.  I'm learning my way around the campus, and I must say, I quite like it.  It's not one of your old English universities-- built in the 60's-- but it's still full of odd underpasses and snickelways and things, which are very much to my liking.
hobbit_feets: (cat || bookworm)
I've been dreadful at updating of late, but I figured, being as I am doing the whole, 'exciting term abroad' whatsit, this would be an ideal opportunity to get back into it.

I flew on on Monday-slash-Tuesday.  Which is to say, because of the magic of time differences, I left Monday morning, and arrived Tuesday morning.  The flights went smoothly, I helped my companion navigate the airport and subsequently the train station, and felt very competent, and we got into the university at about ten.  Following this comparatively smooth arrival, I:

             ~ discovered a man sleeping illicitly in my room
             ~ was responsible for accidentally blowing out the electricity for the entire floor
             ~ trekked across campus four times in my quest to acquire internet
             ~ acquired internet!
             ~ conducted a rudimentary shop to acquire such necessities as tea, bread, and ginger beer
 
The next day I went into the city for a mobile phone, a towel, an alarm clock to replace the one I killed in blowing out the floor's electricity, etc.  It took a great deal of wandering around and getting lost, but eventually I got where I wanted to go, and felt v. accomplished in the doing.  Lancaster, for all people have called it a small town, is actually a decently sized city.  British traffic still terrifies me, but I have four months to get used to it, I suppose.  After I got back from my errands, I met some of the other people here on the ISP, and was invited out for drinks with them and a score and some of my other coursemates.  We descended upon one of the campus pubs in a wave of Americans, and lavished our money upon the long-suffering bartender, Joe.  Whilst there, we were joined by Davey, whom a few other the others had met already.  Davey is a member of staff who used to lecture in film history, a Cornish bloke in his forties with a shaved head, an ankh dangling from one ear, a pentacle from the other, fingers bedecked with rings, and a fantastic sense of humour.  He took particular bemused delight in poking at my accent, which I can already hear shifting.  I found someone whom I was able to drunkenly bitch with about how no-one uses the past perfect anymore.  So clearly I will not be lacking for good company for this first month.

And then this morning, we had a bit of an orientation, got our course packets and reading material, found out what exactly we'd be studying and what will be expected of us.  I am geekily incredibly excited, because research!  ~Annotated bibliographies!  Critical reading!  Classes proper will start on Monday; in addition to lectures and seminars, we've a weekly field trip.  This week we're going to the Lake District to see Dove Cottage.  Should be awesomefab.

Later I will do pictures of my room and the campus.  I'm learning my way around the campus, and I must say, I quite like it.  It's not one of your old English universities-- built in the 60's-- but it's still full of odd underpasses and snickelways and things, which are very much to my liking.
hobbit_feets: (cat || kittehloaf (like jools))
My god, it's a post.  Nicked from the effervescent [livejournal.com profile] platoapproved . Give me fandoms!


Give me a fandom and I'll tell you:

The first character I fell in love with:
The character I never expected to love as much as I do now:
The character everyone else loves that I don't:
The character I love that everyone else hates:
The character I used to love but don't any longer:
The character I would shag anytime:
The character I'd want to be like:
The character I'd slap:
My five favorite characters:
My five least favorite characters:
My deep dark fandom secret:
hobbit_feets: (cat || kittehloaf (like jools))
My god, it's a post.  Nicked from the effervescent [livejournal.com profile] platoapproved . Give me fandoms!


Give me a fandom and I'll tell you:

The first character I fell in love with:
The character I never expected to love as much as I do now:
The character everyone else loves that I don't:
The character I love that everyone else hates:
The character I used to love but don't any longer:
The character I would shag anytime:
The character I'd want to be like:
The character I'd slap:
My five favorite characters:
My five least favorite characters:
My deep dark fandom secret:

fic!

Jul. 26th, 2011 10:31 am
hobbit_feets: (lotr || you are not bound)
Shock and awe, I have completed a fic.

From a Flat Surface

It's a Worst Journey fic, and is probably the most horrible thing I've ever written.  Not in terms of quality (I should like to think), but simply because what it contains makes me want to tear out my soul.  It is entirely the fault of a friend of [livejournal.com profile] earlwyn 's, so you can blame him.

fic!

Jul. 26th, 2011 10:31 am
hobbit_feets: (lotr || you are not bound)
Shock and awe, I have completed a fic.

From a Flat Surface

It's a Worst Journey fic, and is probably the most horrible thing I've ever written.  Not in terms of quality (I should like to think), but simply because what it contains makes me want to tear out my soul.  It is entirely the fault of a friend of [livejournal.com profile] earlwyn 's, so you can blame him.
hobbit_feets: (c'lebs || raaaaaaage)
Those of you who follow me on Twitter may be aware that I am taking a class on John Milton's works this semester, and that the man who teaches that course is mad, senile, apparently wishes to repress any tendency on the part of the class to think for itself, and doesn't know what literary analysis means. He is incapable of sticking to a point, never discusses the class readings, and his lectures meander in a labyrinthine fashion which suggests that even he has no idea what he's saying. He also has a habit of interjecting bizarre and insulting comments regarding politics and the supposed religious background of the class into his lectures. Today, naturally, he had to talk about the death of Osama bin Laden and what Milton would have thought of that.

Here is a transcript from Twitter, featuring my bitching, with cameos from [livejournal.com profile] platoapproved  and [livejournal.com profile] brewsternorth  .



epic facepalming under the cut )
hobbit_feets: (c'lebs || raaaaaaage)
Those of you who follow me on Twitter may be aware that I am taking a class on John Milton's works this semester, and that the man who teaches that course is mad, senile, apparently wishes to repress any tendency on the part of the class to think for itself, and doesn't know what literary analysis means. He is incapable of sticking to a point, never discusses the class readings, and his lectures meander in a labyrinthine fashion which suggests that even he has no idea what he's saying. He also has a habit of interjecting bizarre and insulting comments regarding politics and the supposed religious background of the class into his lectures. Today, naturally, he had to talk about the death of Osama bin Laden and what Milton would have thought of that.

Here is a transcript from Twitter, featuring my bitching, with cameos from [livejournal.com profile] platoapproved  and [livejournal.com profile] brewsternorth  .



epic facepalming under the cut )
hobbit_feets: (wjitw || a natural bond that forms)
A livejournal!  Goodness me, I have one of those, don't I?  And my life has been ever so full of things to update it with.  A busy proverbial bee, I've been.  This entry, however, I shall concern my trip of a month ago to visit the lovely[livejournal.com profile] earlwyn  in London!

'Twas her birthday, and so I went to visit her and celebrate, and there was much awesomeness.  The last time I was in London, I was thirteen, and so did not recall all that much about it, other than the big touristy-type things- changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London, going to see a show in an incredibly hot theatre and nearly fainting...  So!  London, effectively, was a new and strange beast to me.  It turned out to be big, busy, full of stuff, and goddamn if it's not the most international city I have ever been in.  People from absolutely everywhere-- Europe, Asia, Africa, you name it.  One rather interesting side effect of this was that I felt much less of the American shame I usually suffer acutely when abroad.  Which was, you know, nice.

But!  The things wot we did.  There were quite a few of them, many (unsurprisingly, to anyone even passingly acquainted with me or [livejournal.com profile] earlwyn) relating to the Terra Nova Antarctic expedition.

The saga begins. Under a cut for your convenience )

AND THEN I WENT HOME.  Which was tragic and sad.  THE END.
hobbit_feets: (wjitw || a natural bond that forms)
A livejournal!  Goodness me, I have one of those, don't I?  And my life has been ever so full of things to update it with.  A busy proverbial bee, I've been.  This entry, however, I shall concern my trip of a month ago to visit the lovely[livejournal.com profile] earlwyn  in London!

'Twas her birthday, and so I went to visit her and celebrate, and there was much awesomeness.  The last time I was in London, I was thirteen, and so did not recall all that much about it, other than the big touristy-type things- changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London, going to see a show in an incredibly hot theatre and nearly fainting...  So!  London, effectively, was a new and strange beast to me.  It turned out to be big, busy, full of stuff, and goddamn if it's not the most international city I have ever been in.  People from absolutely everywhere-- Europe, Asia, Africa, you name it.  One rather interesting side effect of this was that I felt much less of the American shame I usually suffer acutely when abroad.  Which was, you know, nice.

But!  The things wot we did.  There were quite a few of them, many (unsurprisingly, to anyone even passingly acquainted with me or [livejournal.com profile] earlwyn) relating to the Terra Nova Antarctic expedition.

The saga begins. Under a cut for your convenience )

AND THEN I WENT HOME.  Which was tragic and sad.  THE END.
hobbit_feets: (icons || tappity tap)
Because I've been all sorts of productive in my writing lately, let's have a meme!

Pick a paragraph (or any passage between... let's say 200 and 600 words) from anything I've written, and comment to this post with that selection. I will then give you a DVD commentary on that snippet: what I was thinking when I wrote it, why I wrote it in the first place, what's going on in the character's heads, why I chose certain words, what this moment means in the context of the rest of the fic, lots of awful puns, and anything else that you'd expect to find on a DVD commentary track.


For my fics, presuming that you don't just have ALL OF THEM memorised, I am in the process of archiving them here.  Alternately, check out the 'ficcage' tag on this journal, or the memories I have under 'my fics' for a more complete list.
hobbit_feets: (icons || tappity tap)
Because I've been all sorts of productive in my writing lately, let's have a meme!

Pick a paragraph (or any passage between... let's say 200 and 600 words) from anything I've written, and comment to this post with that selection. I will then give you a DVD commentary on that snippet: what I was thinking when I wrote it, why I wrote it in the first place, what's going on in the character's heads, why I chose certain words, what this moment means in the context of the rest of the fic, lots of awful puns, and anything else that you'd expect to find on a DVD commentary track.


For my fics, presuming that you don't just have ALL OF THEM memorised, I am in the process of archiving them here.  Alternately, check out the 'ficcage' tag on this journal, or the memories I have under 'my fics' for a more complete list.
hobbit_feets: (log || a brand new day (you're fucked))
Gosh, it has been a dashed long time since I've posted anything; I bet all you poor sods on my f'list are just lolling about so sadly, waiting for me to update.

The first matter!  It is far past time for my Yuletide reveal, and most of you already know what my fic is, but for posterity's sake:

The Existing Scheme of Things
a Doctor Who and The Worst Journey in the World fanfiction

I wrote this for my partner in crime, the effervescent [livejournal.com profile] earlwyn , and, though I do tend generally to be pleased with the things I come out with for Yuletide, I am, I admit, particularly happy with this one.  Perhaps the combination of Who and Worst Journey is just so delightful that it renders me a mass of fannish joy, even when I'm the one writing it.  It is also, at 6,580 words, the longest thing I've written and actually posted in a damn long time, and I don't think it wastes any of those words.

Other than Yuletide, my life lately has been all about school, and getting myself to England next year.  As some of you probably know, I'm attempting to get to the UK to study abroad next semester, but for various reasons, have had difficulty with this.  However!  I have talked to the relevant people and written highly impressive and unnecessary essays, and am currently in the process of applying to Lancaster University for the autumn term of next year.  Excite! 

As far as school is concerned, my classes run thus:

Moral Problems in Contemporary Society

Linguistic Analysis

Modern Literary Theory and Criticism

Milton and the Century of Revolution

Intermediate Finnish


There is lots of reading of theory and philosophy and quite a few papers to write, but I am, all in all, keeping well on top of things, and feel much improved from last semester.  The only class out of these which has proven to be a disappointment is the Milton one (and a bitter disappointment, because I love Milton, he's crazy), as my lecturer rambles in the most hideous, unfocussed fashion, and comes out with bizarrely offensive and generalising statements about the class on a regular basis.  I have no idea how he expects us to write the term paper when we never actually discuss the poems and pamphlets we're supposed to be reading in class.  Lit Crit and Theory is awesome as expected-- Qadri, the bloke who teaches it, is one of my favourite professors I've had at the U.  He's all sorts of awesome and will intellectually beat you about the ears.  Rather amusingly, the fellow who teaches Linguistic Analysis is a laconic, sardonic French Canadian man who wears Star Wars t-shirts.  A good combination, I think.
hobbit_feets: (log || a brand new day (you're fucked))
Gosh, it has been a dashed long time since I've posted anything; I bet all you poor sods on my f'list are just lolling about so sadly, waiting for me to update.

The first matter!  It is far past time for my Yuletide reveal, and most of you already know what my fic is, but for posterity's sake:

The Existing Scheme of Things
a Doctor Who and The Worst Journey in the World fanfiction

I wrote this for my partner in crime, the effervescent [livejournal.com profile] earlwyn , and, though I do tend generally to be pleased with the things I come out with for Yuletide, I am, I admit, particularly happy with this one.  Perhaps the combination of Who and Worst Journey is just so delightful that it renders me a mass of fannish joy, even when I'm the one writing it.  It is also, at 6,580 words, the longest thing I've written and actually posted in a damn long time, and I don't think it wastes any of those words.

Other than Yuletide, my life lately has been all about school, and getting myself to England next year.  As some of you probably know, I'm attempting to get to the UK to study abroad next semester, but for various reasons, have had difficulty with this.  However!  I have talked to the relevant people and written highly impressive and unnecessary essays, and am currently in the process of applying to Lancaster University for the autumn term of next year.  Excite! 

As far as school is concerned, my classes run thus:

Moral Problems in Contemporary Society

Linguistic Analysis

Modern Literary Theory and Criticism

Milton and the Century of Revolution

Intermediate Finnish


There is lots of reading of theory and philosophy and quite a few papers to write, but I am, all in all, keeping well on top of things, and feel much improved from last semester.  The only class out of these which has proven to be a disappointment is the Milton one (and a bitter disappointment, because I love Milton, he's crazy), as my lecturer rambles in the most hideous, unfocussed fashion, and comes out with bizarrely offensive and generalising statements about the class on a regular basis.  I have no idea how he expects us to write the term paper when we never actually discuss the poems and pamphlets we're supposed to be reading in class.  Lit Crit and Theory is awesome as expected-- Qadri, the bloke who teaches it, is one of my favourite professors I've had at the U.  He's all sorts of awesome and will intellectually beat you about the ears.  Rather amusingly, the fellow who teaches Linguistic Analysis is a laconic, sardonic French Canadian man who wears Star Wars t-shirts.  A good combination, I think.
hobbit_feets: (wjitw || a natural bond that forms)
ie: The Post Where I Talk About Christmas

Christmas!  Christmas this year was mostly quiet, which was nice.  It didn't really seem much like the holiday until it was suddenly Christmas morning, and we missed going to hear the music at church on Christmas Eve.  Those of you who know anything about my religious proclivities will know that I am adamantly not Catholic, nor indeed do I go in for organised religion of any sort myself.  Despite that, I have a deep fondness for churches and old church music, and I've always enjoyed going to hear the choir and the organ in the half hour preceding midnight mass in the church I grew up going to.  So that was a little something missing from my Christmas this year.  I'm making it up, as you can see by my subject line, with church music everywhere else.

Aside from that, there was much family-- eating of dinners and drinking of bizarre wines and giving of gifts.  I got some good stuff, including, rather marvellously, a cast-iron gothic candelabra that my aunt picked up in a charity shop in London.  I just need some bloodred taper candles to drip down it to finish the dramatic look.

BUT.  One of the best parts of Christmas every year-- or at least for the past four years-- and certainly the part which most concerns the internet, is Yuletide!  I adore Yuletide; it's the only fic exchange I ever sign up for, and I always intensely enjoy it, even the mad stress of finishing a story at the very last minute.  The fics that I've got in the past have, by and large, been utterly marvellous, and I always feel that Yuletide somehow culls the cream of the fic-writing crop to participate, and turns out all sorts of wonderful, obscure fic.  This year I recieved not one, not even two, but three brilliant Yuletide fics.  Let me tell you about them!

ficssssssssss )
hobbit_feets: (wjitw || a natural bond that forms)
ie: The Post Where I Talk About Christmas

Christmas!  Christmas this year was mostly quiet, which was nice.  It didn't really seem much like the holiday until it was suddenly Christmas morning, and we missed going to hear the music at church on Christmas Eve.  Those of you who know anything about my religious proclivities will know that I am adamantly not Catholic, nor indeed do I go in for organised religion of any sort myself.  Despite that, I have a deep fondness for churches and old church music, and I've always enjoyed going to hear the choir and the organ in the half hour preceding midnight mass in the church I grew up going to.  So that was a little something missing from my Christmas this year.  I'm making it up, as you can see by my subject line, with church music everywhere else.

Aside from that, there was much family-- eating of dinners and drinking of bizarre wines and giving of gifts.  I got some good stuff, including, rather marvellously, a cast-iron gothic candelabra that my aunt picked up in a charity shop in London.  I just need some bloodred taper candles to drip down it to finish the dramatic look.

BUT.  One of the best parts of Christmas every year-- or at least for the past four years-- and certainly the part which most concerns the internet, is Yuletide!  I adore Yuletide; it's the only fic exchange I ever sign up for, and I always intensely enjoy it, even the mad stress of finishing a story at the very last minute.  The fics that I've got in the past have, by and large, been utterly marvellous, and I always feel that Yuletide somehow culls the cream of the fic-writing crop to participate, and turns out all sorts of wonderful, obscure fic.  This year I recieved not one, not even two, but three brilliant Yuletide fics.  Let me tell you about them!

ficssssssssss )
hobbit_feets: (c'lebs || you pretty painted butterflies)
Having had-- as those of you on Twitter may be aware-- a minor panic yesterday over the state of my schoolwork and the future possibilities which hinge thereupon, I now have assembled a *~list~* of productive things which I am going to do in order to improve this state of affairs.  Thus, a list!  I think, given that it is not yet noon, the number I things I have accomplished is admirable.

Things wot I have done today

1. Contacted Linguistics professor in re. test and possible ways to up my GPA
2. Made appointment with student health clinic
3. Made appointment with English advisor
4. Called homeopath
5. Contacted Professor Matsumoto in re. grades/upping of GPA

Things wot I need to do

1. Call Shelly whatserfoot in re. Study Abroad
2. Sell CDs
3. Study the everloving flip out of my Linguistics

Things wot I do not need to do but have done anyway

1. Painted my nails

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a little bit wildean

February 2014

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