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mina_de_malfois at 04:10pm on 18/06/2006 under fanfiction
mina_de_malfois at 04:10pm on 18/06/2006 under fanfictionPermissions: All rights reserved. All other reproduction, transmission, or storage, in any format, is prohibited unless the author is contacted beforehand and grants specific written permission. The author may be contacted at mina_de_malfois@yahoo.com.
You know, someone once said that they enjoy my fandom even better than my memoirs, and while I can’t say I’m entirely sure I appreciate that sentiment, when I look over the comments I have to, however reluctantly, agree with it. The comments section is a thing of beauty and a joy forever.
Whereas BNFdom is, in comparison, usually more burden than delight. So many toes to avoid stepping on, you know, even as one tries to make sure everyone sees the superiority of one’s own fanfiction. As a for instance, I spotted two typos in PrinceC’s intro, but should I point this out--thus confirming my editorial skills--or keep quiet, out of loyalty? In my experience, one usually appreciates having easily fixable mistakes pointed out, but how can I possibly know if he shares the same reasonable outlook? Fanfiction authors put up with so much ‘helpful’ feedback that I hesitate to bring it to his attention. But then, he’s clearly destined for BNFdom, so it’s one of the things he should be warned about.
And then there are the hangers-on. I’m sure my dear friend Charlotte knows the sort of thing I mean: well-intentioned people offering one electronic goods and comp’d suites, but dragging their feet and howling with outrage if you suggest they spend their spare change on something worthwhile. It’s not that I don’t adore presents--I do, I really do--but there are more important things than influence peddling, when you get right down to it. Behind so many kindnesses there’s a manipulative hand trying to shore up their own fanbase. One is almost safer redirecting people to a worthwhile charity than one is accepting gifts from friends of dubious intent.
Title: Of Vice and Velvet
Chapter: introduction
Fandom: Sanguinity
Author: PrinceC
Dedication: Dedicated, with devoted affection, to Mina de Malfois, whose fiction inspires and moves me, and who haunts my fondest and most private dreams.
Lady Horatia Marianna Wilhelmina de Malfois sat before her looking-glass, brushing her long, silver-blonde hair. Her skin had the icy perfection of untouched snow, and her green eyes were cold and expressionless as she prepared for bed. Hers was the practiced lack of expression of an accomplished spy, well-versed in the act of concealment, most particularly wherein her own thoughts and emotions were concerned. She looked a model of the feminine graces; few would have guessed she was both a crack shot and a seasoned sailor, or that her firm but slender form concealed an iron determination. Lady Mina had oft proven that she was willing to use any tools at her disposal to achieve her goals...and most men were such eager tools. Her thoughts turned, briefly, to the well-muscled Jab Ackerman who was installed in rooms near the princess' quarters, rooms even more sumptuous than Lady Mina's own--but then he, peasant thug though he looked, was Prince Pierce's honoured guest.
Night brought the relief of darkness, under cover of which she could relax just a little, knowing temporary freedom from the suspicious glances and the thousand small daily slights from those fools who mistrusted her intentions even as she risked her life to preserve their safety. She stood, draped in white silk that caressed her form like wisps of moonlit fog, accentuating rather than concealing her tiny waist and full, round, high breasts. Her nipples hardened as the night breeze toyed with the delicate fabric, causing it to ripple against her skin. She stretched, cat-like, supple muscles moving in unconscious enticement under milky skin. The tiniest of scars, almost more decoration than flaw, was visible on the soft skin of her left inner thigh.
The royal house of the de St. Aubyns could not, whatever their pretensions, boast a bloodline any more noble than her own. Her present straightened circumstances belied her breeding, perhaps, but only to those who, obsessed with surfaces, saw their own reflections in place of every truth. She tossed the mirror a chill, wry, scornful smile. The proof, after all, lay in her cunning, her daring, her manipulations: blood will tell. Whereas the de St. Aubyns, for all that they had held the throne for centuries, had too often stooped to dalliances that ill-befit a noble house. Not one of their current generation could ever have managed the multi-layered deception by which she, nightly, saved their pitiable throats.
Anointing her pulse-points with an elixar brewed in sacred silence by a well-debauched initiate of a cult believed by the forces of ‘light’ to have long since been extinguished, Lady Mina blew out the candleflame and climbed into bed. She was a more willing sacrifice than she had yet admitted even to herself.
Of Vice and Velvet: Chapter One
You know, someone once said that they enjoy my fandom even better than my memoirs, and while I can’t say I’m entirely sure I appreciate that sentiment, when I look over the comments I have to, however reluctantly, agree with it. The comments section is a thing of beauty and a joy forever.
Whereas BNFdom is, in comparison, usually more burden than delight. So many toes to avoid stepping on, you know, even as one tries to make sure everyone sees the superiority of one’s own fanfiction. As a for instance, I spotted two typos in PrinceC’s intro, but should I point this out--thus confirming my editorial skills--or keep quiet, out of loyalty? In my experience, one usually appreciates having easily fixable mistakes pointed out, but how can I possibly know if he shares the same reasonable outlook? Fanfiction authors put up with so much ‘helpful’ feedback that I hesitate to bring it to his attention. But then, he’s clearly destined for BNFdom, so it’s one of the things he should be warned about.
And then there are the hangers-on. I’m sure my dear friend Charlotte knows the sort of thing I mean: well-intentioned people offering one electronic goods and comp’d suites, but dragging their feet and howling with outrage if you suggest they spend their spare change on something worthwhile. It’s not that I don’t adore presents--I do, I really do--but there are more important things than influence peddling, when you get right down to it. Behind so many kindnesses there’s a manipulative hand trying to shore up their own fanbase. One is almost safer redirecting people to a worthwhile charity than one is accepting gifts from friends of dubious intent.
Title: Of Vice and Velvet
Chapter: introduction
Fandom: Sanguinity
Author: PrinceC
Dedication: Dedicated, with devoted affection, to Mina de Malfois, whose fiction inspires and moves me, and who haunts my fondest and most private dreams.
Lady Horatia Marianna Wilhelmina de Malfois sat before her looking-glass, brushing her long, silver-blonde hair. Her skin had the icy perfection of untouched snow, and her green eyes were cold and expressionless as she prepared for bed. Hers was the practiced lack of expression of an accomplished spy, well-versed in the act of concealment, most particularly wherein her own thoughts and emotions were concerned. She looked a model of the feminine graces; few would have guessed she was both a crack shot and a seasoned sailor, or that her firm but slender form concealed an iron determination. Lady Mina had oft proven that she was willing to use any tools at her disposal to achieve her goals...and most men were such eager tools. Her thoughts turned, briefly, to the well-muscled Jab Ackerman who was installed in rooms near the princess' quarters, rooms even more sumptuous than Lady Mina's own--but then he, peasant thug though he looked, was Prince Pierce's honoured guest.
Night brought the relief of darkness, under cover of which she could relax just a little, knowing temporary freedom from the suspicious glances and the thousand small daily slights from those fools who mistrusted her intentions even as she risked her life to preserve their safety. She stood, draped in white silk that caressed her form like wisps of moonlit fog, accentuating rather than concealing her tiny waist and full, round, high breasts. Her nipples hardened as the night breeze toyed with the delicate fabric, causing it to ripple against her skin. She stretched, cat-like, supple muscles moving in unconscious enticement under milky skin. The tiniest of scars, almost more decoration than flaw, was visible on the soft skin of her left inner thigh.
The royal house of the de St. Aubyns could not, whatever their pretensions, boast a bloodline any more noble than her own. Her present straightened circumstances belied her breeding, perhaps, but only to those who, obsessed with surfaces, saw their own reflections in place of every truth. She tossed the mirror a chill, wry, scornful smile. The proof, after all, lay in her cunning, her daring, her manipulations: blood will tell. Whereas the de St. Aubyns, for all that they had held the throne for centuries, had too often stooped to dalliances that ill-befit a noble house. Not one of their current generation could ever have managed the multi-layered deception by which she, nightly, saved their pitiable throats.
Anointing her pulse-points with an elixar brewed in sacred silence by a well-debauched initiate of a cult believed by the forces of ‘light’ to have long since been extinguished, Lady Mina blew out the candleflame and climbed into bed. She was a more willing sacrifice than she had yet admitted even to herself.