When Good Things Happen, God Looks the Other Way

HP REUNION!

2014-11-08T01:12:10Z

I don't even remember how to make a link to a site anymore, but there's an HP Reunion over here: http://hp-reunion.livejournal.com/2296.html?page=7#t560632! That's brilliant. Many thanks <lj user="kerryblaze"> and everyone else involved!

...And then it was a year later...

2014-10-02T23:19:10Z

Hiya! Alright? It's been a dog's age, yeah? I hope everyone is well. Catch me up when you've got a sec.

tipgardner @ 2013-08-15T21:16:00

2013-08-16T01:16:47Z

Holy junk! How did it get so long since I'd posted last?!?

tipgardner @ 2013-03-07T21:22:00

2013-03-08T02:22:25Z

w00t!!!!!!! Lots of love to you and congratulations! Yeah...you know who you are. :-)

A Boy Like Me

2012-12-18T20:06:36Z

A boy like me don't ever give up on his dreams.

...but sometimes it's just so hard...

tipgardner @ 2012-11-28T17:41:00

2012-11-28T22:41:26Z

Crikey, but time flies, yeah? What's news? Did all the Americans have a nice Thanksgiving? Is everyone getting ready for the holidays? This year has been really racing by and it feels as though I'm hurtling towards year end at near light speed. Hope you're all doing well. Catch me up!

tipgardner @ 2012-10-16T12:12:00

2012-10-16T16:12:42Z

Hiya! I hope you're all well. I am, even if a bit tired and run down. Sunday night weddings are no fun. And get more no fun the more fun they are! ;-)

So catch me up! What's everyone reading? Seeing? Eating and drinking? Any important or not important life updates?

tipgardner @ 2012-08-26T04:01:00

2012-08-26T08:02:00Z

Everything is confusing. Maybe that's why nothing makes sense. Nothing good happens after 2 am, let alone 4:01. But I love those dragons, don't you?

Edit: I have no memory of posting this. At all. Even now. Haha!

Inception Fic

2012-07-25T23:52:06Z

Any recs for great Inception fic? Thanks!

Brilliant!

2012-07-25T00:59:08Z

"You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, Darling."

Effin' brilliant!

Yes...I've finally seen Inception. Discuss.

Books! Books! Books!`

2012-07-03T22:29:09Z

Hi Beautiful People (yes...that includes all of you). Alright? How is everyone's week so far?

Today I'm curious about your favorite YA series/books, your favorite fantasy series/books and your favorite non-genre literature series/books. What are they? Why? Do you look for different things in YA/fantasy than what you for in non-genre lit? What? Why?

I also have a request: Does anyone have the following books as ePubs and, if so, would anyone be willing to UL for me? Many thanks!
DM Cornish's Monster Blood Tattoo series/The Foundling's Tale series (Foundling, Lamp Lighter and Factotum) and Mervyn Peake's Gormenghast series (Titus Groan, Gormenghast and Titus Alone).

Thanks!

tipgardner @ 2012-06-25T20:52:00

2012-06-26T00:45:29Z

What I find is that just when one seems to have things figured out and settled, that's when life seems to most enjoy shoving one to the ground and then applying its boot to ones teeth. When such a thing is mainly ones own fault, of course...it's that much worse, yeah?

tipgardner @ 2012-06-22T14:44:00

2012-06-22T18:44:13Z

So I've just started Cassie Claire's City of Bones following, oddly enough, an article on her in the Wall Street Journal.

Without giving any spoilers, please, have any of you read it? What do you think about it? I'm mainly interested in writing and story quality, not plot devices or twists, though only a few chapters in, I already have some thoughts on those as well.

I had forgot that one of her biggest calling cards in fan fiction had been her clever, snarky dialogue, much of which had made her characters much more polished, slick and cool than their Rowling counterparts. I'd not really seen much of it in the beginning of the book, but the style is becoming much more evident as the book goes on.

Aside from some obvious influences, such as Holly Black, her story telling style and structure seem to be influenced by Terry Brooks, the author of the Shannarra (sp?) books, which I've also recently read (last year). You can all see I'm brushing up on my fantasy and young adult education!

Finally, I know that as much as she had a lot of fans on LJ and, given her sales she obviously does as a published author, a lot of people don't like her work and aren't reading the books. So of you're not reading them or didn't like them, why?

Thanks, Darlings!

Forged - Katniss/Gale - Hunger Games Snippet - Spoilers for all three books and movie

2012-04-19T19:04:38Z

Gale comes back like a hot coal wreathed in his own inner flame. He's still shadowed at the jaw, beneath the eyes, the raw black and the ash of the fire. He's always been hard as a piece of forged steel, but there's something so much more and maybe worse since he'd gone to District 2.

Katniss sees it as easily as Gale could spot a falcon on a cloudy day when they'd gone hunting outside the fence before...the Reaping. She will always understand it. How could she not with the coal dust still a part of the air and under her nails all of these years later? They both know every breath they take will fill them with loved ones lost long after they take their last.

But still, it's too hard and too hot. And Katniss knows fire and she knows burns and she's never been able to avoid them. Not on top of that warehouse in District 8, not in front of President Snow's mansion in the Capital and certainly not now when his touch is so damaging. She still can't take Peeta's healing touches, but Gale is so furious and so barely contained, as though he were the one the Capital had broken and reprogrammed, not Katniss and Peeta, that she can't help but accept his heat.

And so, again, Gale appears, silent as a mountain lion, in the doorway to her bedroom. She doesn't say a word when he comes to her bed. She doesn't say a word when his touch burns her skin, his tongue burns her thighs, his fingers burn inside her. She bites her lips until she bleeds to avoid the wrenching pain in her chest and the unbearable clenching in her gut. She can feel his stare, but she turns away, pretends her eyes are closed in pleasure, only opening them when the pleasure is so intense that she can't see anymore.

Gale leaves as silent as he shows up, even though they both know he'll leave more broken, more twisted with fire, every time he does.

Plot Bunny/Character Study/Drabble - Gale - Hints of multiple HG spoilers

2012-04-05T19:54:59Z

The anger still burns in Gale. His passions are tightly banked beneath black scruff and clenched jaw, but those embers never die. He remembers making light of one of them in a cellar somewhere in a ruined capital in the mountains years earlier. But he still had hatchets to bury. He still does, really. He buries his anger in traps, more often political than warfare related these days. He buries his passions in psychological stratagems, in strange women, in new technology for the government meant to prevent another oppressive government from keeping the people down. Gale never looks back, can't see forward, won't stop, won't ever stop. Not for all the children District 12 could birth or all the freedom he can bleed from old Panem.

Game of Thrones Question/Speculation/Maybe Spoiler

2012-03-27T13:52:01Z

So, erm...What do we think about Rickon? I mean...conspicuous absence, much? And will Bran use his powers as a Greenman and watcher in the trees to help the Starks or Jon Snow or any other "good" Northerners?

tipgardner @ 2012-03-13T13:38:00

2012-03-13T17:38:16Z

It's SOOOO beautiful out today! Not a good day for focusing on work.

I am sometimes struck by how amazingly well suited to her inspiredlife's user name is. She is amazing and wonderful and always muddles through when she doesn't know the best path forward. She's always there for her mates and fam. And she's got great taste in music.

At any rate, go ahead and write a tiny bit about someone you respect. Make it a meme if you must. So many people here are inspiring and strong and wonderful and kind and clever and great. Let 'em know, yeah?

In other news, the Hunger Games love around these parts are making me want to re-read. Of course, I'd have to finish re-reading HP7 to get to it.

Meh

2012-02-29T15:28:40Z

I am feeling extremely meh today and fairly low. Perhaps it's the gloomy turn the weather has taken. Or possibly it's the mid-week and February blahs. It could be the yelling match I've just had at work. At any rate, I think I need cheering, yeah? So please tell me happy, exciting, interesting, great, fun and/or silly things that are making you smile today/this week/this month...even this year. Or something simply that has you pondering. Now for those who feel like gifting music...well, that's just lovely as well, yeah? :) Meanwhilst, I do hope that everyone is having a much better day than I am.

Happy St Valentine's Day

2012-02-14T23:15:47Z

I absolutely adore how modern commerce has turnt a day commemorating a vicious massacre into a sappy commercial hol. Still, it's a good excuse to remind those we love that we love them. And most everyone who still reads this, I love. You've been life savers, story praisers, listeners and shoulders. Many, many thanks.

A special thanks to rurounihime and viridescence for the lovely glass ♥s They're lovely, Darlings!

Has anyone got anything especially nice from and/or for a loved one? Has anyone done or is anyone doing anything fun, special, silly, sexy, dirty, angry, some combination thereof? Share all. Tip's vicarious heart must beat, yeah?

Big hugs, Darlings, and wonderful, happy, loving thoughts!

tipgardner @ 2012-02-09T21:37:00

2012-02-10T02:37:49Z

Angels and Devils Part XI

Harry runs among the columns, skirting the light and drilling the shadows with his eyes for any sign of...what...exactly, he isn't certain.

For a memory, for a myth, for a rumor. For the ghost of a dream, perhaps. For a flutter of platinum amidst the sodden ash of loss and regret.

He doesn't remember the recurring dream in these seconds. He doesn't know who his long standing co-star is. He just feels a hint, a flutter, the slightest whistle of wind passed a snitch.

Harry finally slows, looking around more warily, moves into the shadows to step more cautiously, more quietly. It's too late, though. Someone's heard. He hears the sound of cloth on cloth and a drawn breath. He pulls himself more deeply into the darkness and wills himself to complete silence, almost holding his breath.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Harry hears the posh tones of a woman's voice. He's positive he's heard them before. They stir a memory and he jumps up, his chest exactly where the spell would hit if it were cast by most witches. But that's not the way a clever Slytherin would cast it. That sort of witch would cast in the direction of the lower legs and to the right. She would figure a wizard would favor his strong side, most likely the right, and that he would jump to the side, not straight up.

Harry hears the small pock of the spell hitting the stone beneath his feet with satisfaction as he sends the same spell back at the caster, followed immediately by, "Expelliarmus," and is rewarded with an hard thud and the sound of wood whipping through the air. He reaches out quickly to catch the wand and follows the line of shadow, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up around his face.

He is happy to see that the witch has fallen safely on her side. He is happy to see she's facing away from him. He is far less happy to see that the voice had been familiar for a reason.

Harry pads over to her and mutters "finite incantatum."

"Pansy Parkinson...What's a society witch like you doing in a none to safe spot in muggle London?"

Pansy rubs her elbow through the fur and squints.

"Potter!?" She can't help from exclaiming, "What are you doing here?"

Amusement is added to Harry's sense of confusion, fear and surprise. "Keeping you out of harm's way, apparently."

"Me? Am I mistaken in thinking that you've just attacked me? Not too mention that you've mussed my robes."

"That's certainly one way to view the situation. An incorrect way, of course, but one way."

Harry holds up her wand. "I'm reasonably sure that the aurors would say you've used magic in muggle land, unprovoked and caused damage to a building owned by powerful muggles, indeed. What should we tell them, do you think? The truth? Or your version? 'Hero Potter attacks society witch in deserted patch of muggle London.'. I'm no so sure that anyone would want that getting in the papers except for the gossip witches of course. Now, why are you actually here?"

Pansy' annoyance wars with her grudging respect for Potter's obvious self assurance. "I...I'm looking for something. Something I'd heard might be here."

"Hm...something..." Harry watches her closely, watches the twitch of kin and muscle around her eyes and mouth. "Obviously you know I'd trained as an auror before joining the Cannons. So you and I both know that I can tell you're...not lying, perhaps, but definitely hiding what you mean. You're looking for something, alright, but I think you're looking for someone."

He hears her gasp and sees her eyes widen. The dream has caught up with reality, has pulled all the murky shadows away and burnt off all the smoky edges, leaving absolute clarity behind. He is convinced that they're looking for the same person l, the same fleeting thought. And h knows neither is certain, exactly, who that person is or what any of it means.

"Who are you looking for, Pansy?" He puts some tenderness into his voice, a bit of good auror in his tone.

She's clearly caught off guard by the compassion and softness in his tone. She thinks she might even hear a bit of longing in his voice. Before she can stop herself, Pansy is handing him several photographs.

Harry shifts, wands still held at the ready and just out of reach of her free arm. He stands up and back a step as he takes the pictures so he can look at them at the same time as he keeps an eye on Pansy.

If there were any doubt remaining, it's torn from him the second he sees the ragged clothing and grey ish hair. The instant he takes in the hollow cheeks and the long, pale, dirty fingers digging into dark buttocks as the head moved back and forth over the hard shaft of some piker's cock.

Harry clamps down hard on his emotions, locking them tightly before asking, "Who is this? There's something vaguely familiar about him, but isn't this just some homeless muggle? And what are you doing with gay pornographic photos, anyway?" He pitches his tone carefully so as not to let her think he's mocking or scornful with his question.

She smirks slightly, as hard as she ever was up at Hogwarts. "It's not porn, Potter. It's...well...I'm not totally sure what it is. It was taken here, though. Two nights ago. And I think we both know who I think it is. You know the rumors."

"Draco." He whispers before he can stop himself.

She nods, holding out her hand. "May I have my wand back, Mr Potter? Harry?" She says this last softly.

Harry shifts. Look at her carefully again. He holds out his non-wand arm.

"Please, Ms Parkinson. May I help you up?"

She takes the offered hand and stands. "Exactly. But like I said, I'm just not sure."

Harry is distant, she notices. He's looking at her, but he's looking somewhere far away. He rubs his eyes slowly and when he looks up again, his eyes are focused intently on her again. He moves to her.

"I believe this wand is yours, Ms Parkinson."

Angels and Devils, Part X

2012-02-06T23:48:43Z

Angels and Devils, Part X

Part VII.v

The next installment of Angels and Devils. I have no claim to any of it, and all other disclosures apply, per my profile page.
Pansy shifts in her seat even as the photographs shift in the air in front of her. She would swear to Hecate that this broom stick thin, supposed muggle in ragged jeans and torn t-shirt, almost looking like she remembers Potter, still more muggle than wizard in those days, dressing whilst up at Hogwarts, was no muggle at all. But she knows that these photos had been taken just south of the Thames, under the headquarters of some muggle accountancy. In fact, rumour has it that one of Weasley's relatives works there, she recalls suddenly, with a snicker.

It's impossible. She knows it's impossible. But she'd swear that Draco, almost certainly long dead, is dressed in those awful things, looking far worse than Potter had on even his worst day. There's something about the hinge of that overly defined jaw jutting over the stalk of a neck.

And suddenly Pansy is standing, her chair scooting back, her Villeroy & Boch tea cup flying out of harm's way, the papers floating to the far reaches of the desk lest any stray drops of tea fall. She calls to her assistants and waves her wand for her fur robes and barely manages to remember her station and not to sprint out the door. She steps to the apparition closet off the foyer and whirls momentarily out of existence.

And for purely self-pimping, erm, I mean purposes of catching you up:
Part I * Part II * Part III * Part IV * Part V * Part VI * Part VII * Part VIII
Part IX

tipgardner @ 2012-02-05T02:11:00

2012-02-05T07:10:37Z

Songs sinking
Light blinking
Thoughts unthinking
Edge brinking
Fear bringing
Hate singing

tipgardner @ 2012-02-05T02:03:00

2012-02-05T07:02:14Z

My strange old face/And I'm thinking about those days.

I don't want to be old and sleep alone/An empty house is not a home.

Angels and Devils, Part VII.v

2012-02-02T14:42:05Z

Angels and Devils, Part VII.v, Little by Little

Part VII

Some time ago (erm, embarrassingly long ago, actually), I'd been writing a chaptered fic called Angels and Demons. Not real chapters, perhaps. More like sketches or fake, overly long drabbles really, but certainly making up one story. Now, though, xylodemon has completely inspired me to write. For how long, I can't say and am no longer comfortable offering assurances. So for the time being, the fire is lit, yeah? This is the piece I think I'd been working on last and I've gone back to it to try and make something happen and to bring it to conclusion. Or continuation. Or something. This is another interlude, and it pre-dates the previous Part VIII. For now I've made it part VII.v, but perhaps I'll simply renumber everything from this chapter forward.

Needless to say it's NWS, it's NC-17, it's graphic and it's Harry/Draco. I have no claim to any of it, and all other disclosures apply, per my profile page. Please enjoy it and feel free to play Radiohead's Little by Little

Harry wakes from the dream. It's oddly distinct. Odd because that's the opposite of how his life has been these days. Awake, everything is blurry at the edges, everything indistinct or at odd angles. The soft focus making things seem romantic, but actually just building a heavy handed confusion and paranoia. Everything is half captured at best and he offers a silent prayer that this is the off season. It's frightening, both in its content and in its constant repetition. But life is just as monotonous far more frightening. He's missing something. That puzzle piece still not fitting, that gear still sticking. But however fitful his sleep, the dream is clarity itself. And that is its most disturbing element of course.

Harry sees the hard angles and dark bruises. He sees the lank hair. Catches the barest glimpse of shell grey eyes gone matte before they close. He smells the filth that he sees under finger nails, behind ears, on ripped away clotheing. Harry hears every breath, every hitch, every moan. He sees his cock, turgid, surging, every vein, every bit of smooth skin, every ridge and curve, clearly defined as he pushes it in and out of the open mouth with its thin but soft lips and expert tongue. He sees every scar, every wrinkle, every broken nail, every near-invisble blonde hair on the long, thin fingers that circle his shaft and cup his balls. Even the one pale freckle on the right ring finger doesn't hide from him as that hand slides up and down his stiff length.

And when the heat and shadow and sharp angles and wrongwrongwrongwrongwrong contract and his mind loses all capacity to see beyond the circle of light that is Draco's mouth sucking, sucking as Harry's come explodes in furious jets, he wakes unaware that he's been holding his breath and that his heart has stopped and that their is blood trickling from the corner of his lower lip and in four perfect moon shapes inside both his palms. But he awakes in perfect clarity. A quick charm cleans the sticky mess from his pants and abdomen and he leaps from the clutches of his duvet. Though there is no charm that can tame his hair, his clothes, unusually casual clothes for him, fly to his body and set themselves to rights as Harry gulps the water kept by his bed stand and then races out the door.

Part VIII

And for purely self-pimping, erm, I mean purposes of catching you up:
Part I * Part II * Part III * Part IV * Part V * Part VI * Part VII * Part VIII * Part IX

READ! NOW!!!

2012-02-01T22:19:42Z

There are memories, soft or loud, blinding or dark. There are times worthy of being remembered. So many of them involve writing and HP and H/D, even. There have been far too few of those for me of late.

And it's my fault, I know. It's not that people aren't writing and writing brilliantly. Just because the series is done and dusted, that doesn't make writing about it today and reading it then chalk and cheese, yeah?

xylodemon has written a bloody brilliant story. It's H/D. It's dark. It's violent. It's sparse and lush and crowded and empty and full of ambitious and incredible imagery. She's a fabulous writer and I hope that everyone will go have a look, yeah?