(no subject)
Jul. 25th, 2014 05:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tree_and_leafI don't write enough fic to feel I really justify this, but on the other hand, I would enjoy it, so:
Pick any paragraph or any passage from any fanfic I’ve written and comment to this post with that selection. I will then give you a DVD commentary on that snippet of what I was thinking when I wrote it, why I wrote it, what’s going on in the characters’ heads, why I chose certain words, what this moment means in the context of the fic, and anything else you’d expect to find on a DVD commentary track.
Fic here.
Pick any paragraph or any passage from any fanfic I’ve written and comment to this post with that selection. I will then give you a DVD commentary on that snippet of what I was thinking when I wrote it, why I wrote it, what’s going on in the characters’ heads, why I chose certain words, what this moment means in the context of the fic, and anything else you’d expect to find on a DVD commentary track.
Fic here.
(no subject)
Date: 2014-07-25 05:33 pm (UTC)"They call me the Doctor" said the Doctor. "As to the rest, I'm an honest man with no love of tyranny, though I never much liked taking sides in politics. But I'm most anxious to hear news of Jamie. He was a dear friend of mine, though it may be he's forgotten me."
Alan snorted. "Aye. I know one lad that calls himself a Hanovarian who has the makings of a very honest gentleman for all that, though sadly confused in the essentials… I know a wheen MacCrimmonds, and quite a few James MacCrimmonds. What was he like, your friend?"
"Short, dark, played the pipes,"
"Sounds like every MacCrimmond I ever heard tell of."
"He usually wore a red kilt, and he was a very loyal, true friend. I know he fought at Culloden, and I'd hate to think he died there. He was in the service of the MacLarens."
Alan thought for a moment. "Wait... I believe I know the man you mean. He got a terrible dunt on the head in the battle – is that what you mean about him not knowing you? He lost his memory for a long time, they say. But there were one-two lads who took pity on him, and they got away to France right enough, and the MacLaren offered to get him a commission in Lewis' army. But he said he'd seen enough of the wars, and he wanted to study medicine. Which was absurd, as he had no Latin, though he could read at least, but he wouldn't hear of anything else. He had a priest – a cousin of mine, as it happens – teach him the Latin and a touch of the Greek, and nothing would do but he went off to Leiden and trained for a doctor."
The Doctor beamed. "And what's he doing now?"
"Ach, he does well enough; he's doctor to a lot of honest Scots folk who are blithe to hear a good Highland tongue in their illness. And he's married to a French lass, called Victorie, or some such. A wee bit wanchancy, all the same. They say he has the sight, and dreams strange dreams. But a good fellow from all I've heard tell of him."
The Doctor sighed. "Well, all the same that's good news. Look – if you do happen to see him, tell him… Tell him the Doctor won't forget him, and that he's proud to have known him."
(no subject)
Date: 2014-07-25 05:41 pm (UTC)"Do you want to talk about it?"
Susan shook her head. "I can't." She couldn't even think, not clearly. I'm as bad a traitor as Edmund ever was, she thought. If only she could see them, and tell them how sorry she was. As if they were being punished for her… no, that couldn't be right. Lucy, Peter, Edmund, their parents… Professor Kirke and Miss Plummer, Cousin Eustace and Jill… She couldn't, having remembered Aslan, doubt that they were anywhere but in his country, but she… She had been left behind, she was being punished, because she'd tried to get on with living, and not get trapped in dreams, and after all, he'd said they were to draw closer to their own world… (though a small, cold voice asked her if, say, Edmund, with his law degree and his alarming enthusiasm for rugby and hard-boiled detective stories, or, still more, Lucy and her medical degree and settlement work in a nasty area of London had given much indication of retreating from reality, whereas she…) She was, she realised, furiously angry, and not only with herself. And she had a pounding headache.
"I don't deserve this," she mumbled, "no-one does, where does he think he gets off using people like chess pieces…" She realised that James was looking at her, concerned though not, thank God, embarrassed. He worked in a night shelter, she thought miserably, he was probably used to lunatics.