(no subject)
How much do I hate mac.mail? Let me count the ways. I pay a not insubstatial number of Earth pounds for this shit service that won't let me in half the time and won't ever let me reset the settings beyond about three basic default ones. Conclusion: don't buy into mac.mail again.
I have avoided gmail like the plague because I'm convinced that Google is the next or possibly the current great Satan who will hand over our details to government organisations at the bat of an eyelash. But at this rate I may have to suck it up. Anyone suggest any non-megacorporate alternatives that won't involve my having to code?
Aaaand it's just over a month till the release of Deathly Hallows. Do I want to go to the midnight release parties? I was in a chaotic local Borders at midnight for the OotP release and some tosser spoiled everyone in shouting distance by telling us that Sirius died. I can't bear the thought of that happening again. The one before that, I was in Borders in Portland, Maine (thank God for globalisation!), and in the midst of an orderly queue of mini witches and wizards, which was sweet. (I think that may have been before HP really caught on among adults in the States; or at least in Maine.) But I don't want to miss that camp cameraderie! What to do...
What's everyone else doing? That may decide me.
Meanwhile, for old times' sake I've been trawling back through my unposted HP fic. There's more of it than I ever posted; which speaks volumes. One I wished I had finished was from a prompt from mrsronweasley, in which Harry finds out that his godfather's relationship with his teacher was more than just good friends when Kreacher dumps a box full of sex toys at Harry's feet while Dumbledore 'looks on', as they say. Maybe if there's sufficient inspiration from beyond the veil in this book I'll actually feel inspired enough to finish.
I still drop in on HP from time to time. Maybe it's easier to feel contemptous of your old fandom, as some people seem to do, particularly if it's a TV or movie-based one. What's that about? I don't really understand that attitude. I remember how happy I was when my first fic was archived at the wonderful Azkaban's Lair. Happy days, before it all went mental.
And as I sense a rash of upcoming postings about who will live and who will die, here are my predictions. Or wishes. Or something. Utterly Tonks-free. (Not that I mind Tonks, but -- the woman needs to take a closer look at her own sexuality. And let's not even talk about her boyfriend's.)
Harry blinked and sat up. Moments ago he’d been fighting swarms of Deatheaters in the grounds of Hogwarts. He’d lost his glasses but that hadn’t stopped him throwing volley after volley of killing curses in Voldemort’s direction hopefully before the Dark Lord had a chance to use his own wand. After that, everything had gone green. Wherever he was now, it certainly wasn’t Hogwarts.
‘Hello, Harry,’ said a familiar voice.
‘Professor Dumbledore! Erm, aren’t you...’
‘Dead?’ Dumbledore suggested helpfully.
Harry nodded.
‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.’
‘Oi! Harry!’
‘Ron! You’re here!’
‘Thanks to you and your rubbish shooting, you git. I’m here and so’s half my family.’ Mr and Mrs Weasley, Fred, George and Charlie stood a little way off. All of them were scowling at Harry.
‘Well, well, Potty and the Weasel. What did I do to deserve this? Oh, hello, Professor Snape.’
‘Malfoy. Bad luck, getting in the way of Potter’s appalling wandwork.’ Snape turned on Harry. ‘And it seems the Boy Who Lived, didn’t.’
‘You shut your gob, Snape!’ said another familiar voice.
‘The worst thing about death is having to spend eternity with you, Black.’
Sirius gestured rudely at Snape then ruffled Harry’s hair. ‘Harry! You’re going to love it here. There’s loads of us now, look.’
He pointed towards a large group that looked suspiciously like half the Hogwarts school roll and most of the teachers. They didn’t look at all happy to see Harry. Only Hagrid waved.
A horrible suspicion was dawning in Harry’s mind.
‘Sirius? Erm... where are we exactly?’
Sirius put his arm around Harry’s shoulders. ‘Well, Harry, it’s like this...’
* * * * *
Back at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger was one of the battle’s few survivors. She searched for days for any sign of her friends; but all she ever found of Harry were his glasses and his scar.
Finis. Really.
I have avoided gmail like the plague because I'm convinced that Google is the next or possibly the current great Satan who will hand over our details to government organisations at the bat of an eyelash. But at this rate I may have to suck it up. Anyone suggest any non-megacorporate alternatives that won't involve my having to code?
Aaaand it's just over a month till the release of Deathly Hallows. Do I want to go to the midnight release parties? I was in a chaotic local Borders at midnight for the OotP release and some tosser spoiled everyone in shouting distance by telling us that Sirius died. I can't bear the thought of that happening again. The one before that, I was in Borders in Portland, Maine (thank God for globalisation!), and in the midst of an orderly queue of mini witches and wizards, which was sweet. (I think that may have been before HP really caught on among adults in the States; or at least in Maine.) But I don't want to miss that camp cameraderie! What to do...
What's everyone else doing? That may decide me.
Meanwhile, for old times' sake I've been trawling back through my unposted HP fic. There's more of it than I ever posted; which speaks volumes. One I wished I had finished was from a prompt from mrsronweasley, in which Harry finds out that his godfather's relationship with his teacher was more than just good friends when Kreacher dumps a box full of sex toys at Harry's feet while Dumbledore 'looks on', as they say. Maybe if there's sufficient inspiration from beyond the veil in this book I'll actually feel inspired enough to finish.
I still drop in on HP from time to time. Maybe it's easier to feel contemptous of your old fandom, as some people seem to do, particularly if it's a TV or movie-based one. What's that about? I don't really understand that attitude. I remember how happy I was when my first fic was archived at the wonderful Azkaban's Lair. Happy days, before it all went mental.
And as I sense a rash of upcoming postings about who will live and who will die, here are my predictions. Or wishes. Or something. Utterly Tonks-free. (Not that I mind Tonks, but -- the woman needs to take a closer look at her own sexuality. And let's not even talk about her boyfriend's.)
Harry blinked and sat up. Moments ago he’d been fighting swarms of Deatheaters in the grounds of Hogwarts. He’d lost his glasses but that hadn’t stopped him throwing volley after volley of killing curses in Voldemort’s direction hopefully before the Dark Lord had a chance to use his own wand. After that, everything had gone green. Wherever he was now, it certainly wasn’t Hogwarts.
‘Hello, Harry,’ said a familiar voice.
‘Professor Dumbledore! Erm, aren’t you...’
‘Dead?’ Dumbledore suggested helpfully.
Harry nodded.
‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.’
‘Oi! Harry!’
‘Ron! You’re here!’
‘Thanks to you and your rubbish shooting, you git. I’m here and so’s half my family.’ Mr and Mrs Weasley, Fred, George and Charlie stood a little way off. All of them were scowling at Harry.
‘Well, well, Potty and the Weasel. What did I do to deserve this? Oh, hello, Professor Snape.’
‘Malfoy. Bad luck, getting in the way of Potter’s appalling wandwork.’ Snape turned on Harry. ‘And it seems the Boy Who Lived, didn’t.’
‘You shut your gob, Snape!’ said another familiar voice.
‘The worst thing about death is having to spend eternity with you, Black.’
Sirius gestured rudely at Snape then ruffled Harry’s hair. ‘Harry! You’re going to love it here. There’s loads of us now, look.’
He pointed towards a large group that looked suspiciously like half the Hogwarts school roll and most of the teachers. They didn’t look at all happy to see Harry. Only Hagrid waved.
A horrible suspicion was dawning in Harry’s mind.
‘Sirius? Erm... where are we exactly?’
Sirius put his arm around Harry’s shoulders. ‘Well, Harry, it’s like this...’
* * * * *
Back at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger was one of the battle’s few survivors. She searched for days for any sign of her friends; but all she ever found of Harry were his glasses and his scar.
Finis. Really.