actually I greatly approve of my five remaining icons

I wish I could make a wardrobe post today! I'm experimenting with that rolled-up-hems thing that seems to be all over the streetstyle blogs at the mo, and it's saved my pair of rather unattractive wide-leg jeans. The whole ensemble is:

- red long-sleeved top with slouch neck, from an op-shop
- brown waistcoat with velvet trim from Esprit
- Colorado jeans, rolled up to mid-calf
- low red heels

~

It was sunny for fifteen minutes and now it's chilly and raining -- must be Canberra in the spring! This afternoon I need to tear myself away from my West Wing rewatching and pull together a short essay on road fatality prevention.

~

I'd forgotten how annoying LJ is on a free account. Ads! Those bloody hover-over-link previews! Inability to edit comments!

Talk about first world problems.

finally. something complete.

(posting this here because it's SO COMPLETELY OBSCURE that I intend to inflict it upon only my nearest & dearest)

Title: Dreamwork
Fandom: Linnets & Valerians
Rating: PG
Word count: 6395
Notes: Linnets & Valerians is a children's fantasy book by Elizabeth Goudge; it's old and obscure and lovely, and I am quite aware that bookelfe is the only other person on the planet to have read it (because I told her to). It was one of my favourites as a child, and I reread it as an adult and came to the quick realisations that a) wow, Timothy was coded as extremely gay, and b) there was a lot of scope there to take the themes and run with them into the future.

Plus I have a thing for Oxbridge boys & romances, I think I can admit that right now.

You may think that this story is a bit odd, but let me assure you, nothing happens in it that (I'm quite confident) wouldn't happen in the canonical setting. Which should tell you something about the book, namely: you should read it.

Dreamwork is a Freudian term for the mental activity that transforms latent dream content into manifest dreams, ie. weaving themes and symbols and wish fulfilment into a coherent storyline.

( Somewhere in Timothy's head: a single faint note of the panpipes, as pure and as final as the edges of two red curtains, sweeping to touch each other in the cente of a stage. )