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I have 14,000 golf balls, but I have no Bromoseltzer.
No, didn't get modem working. I think that will be my big project next week. Quick summary of the past five days: packed, unpacked, shopping, church volunteer work, cleaned house, finished and revised original fic for portfolio, applied for summer job, three graduation ceremonies, two receptions, two daylong family parties, quilting. Ah, vacation.
And, deprived of my ethernet fanfic feed, I've been on something of a cyberpunk kick: Have read Neuromancer, The Shockwave Rider, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, The Book of Merlyn, Catspaw and Dreamfall, Shadows on the Sun, and about half of my Cordwainer Smith anthology.
Would anyone be interested in reading HP fic about a street witch who ghosts into the Floo 'Nets and Framespace by jacking in with a neuromancy deck (similar to a cartomancy deck except that the Knave card is a blank Fifth Jack which allows a neuromancer to project herself into the information-based otherworld of wizarding portraits and parchments and pensieves), living on the fringe of a dystopian future society politically dominated by half-a-dozen pureblood Family conglomerates? I have it all plotted and everything! Lots of black leather! "The Shades of Erised"! Recordings of dead people stored in diaries! Drugs, body mods, fast carpets, and crazed sex!
Heh. Thought not.
Meanwhile, work on the S/M story is proceeding apace; Minnie is currently drunk in Sev's bed, which seems a good start, anyway. And apparently people are actually reading and enjoying these ?
Sybill Trelawney wafted dreamily into the Great Hall at dinner, and innocently took the no-man's-land seat between Severus and Minerva.
"Condescending to dine among us mortals, Sybill?" Minerva asked with raised eyebrows.
Sybill gave her a thin smile. "I prefer to descend to the noise of the school as little as possible, Minerva, in order to maintain the serenity of my Inner Eye. But this morning I found that the energies in my tower were entirely unsettled."
"Bad vibrations, Sybill?" asked Flitwick, across the table.
"It was so nerve-wracking," she gave him a look of misty gratitude. "As sensitive as I am, I could not endure the intensity of the perturbations."
"Something has scrambled Sybill's sensitivity?" hissed Severus.
"It is as the afterglow of a great emotion, the heartfire tincture of a grand passion marked by pain and destiny," emoted Sybill. "Such conflagrations of the heart leave auric ripples that can disrupt clairvoyance for eons to come. I will have to clear the room of influences before classes tomorrow."
"Who in the world would be getting passionate in your tower, Sybill?" asked Minerva, with a sidewise glance at Severus.
"Oh, it has happened before," said Sybill airily. "Every so often students will convince themselves my tower makes a romantic trysting place. `A seraglio ambiance,' I believe Molly Weasley described it." She gave a long-suffering sigh. "As soon as the forces are tranquil enough, before I perform the purification ritual to the aethers, I shall backtrace the auras of the perpetrators and explain to them that such-- things-- are damaging to my retreat."
"You can track aura remnants?" asked Minerva, sitting up straight.
"Quite easily," said Sybill smugly. "I know you believe divination is highly inaccurate, but with such strong emotional traces I've never made a wrong identification."
"Actually aura tracing is closer to Arithmancy than Divination," muttered Vector, next to Flitwick, but Minerva wasn't listening. She looked slightly shell-shocked, in fact, and sent Severus a desperate, pleading look.
"Oh no," he replied. "I took care of it last time. This one's all yours, woman."
Sybill looked from one of them to the other. "With all the disruptions of my Inner Eye, I fear I have missed something," she said.
"Never mind, Sybill," said Severus, passing her a dish. "Have some tripe."
She gave him a look, but decided to dismiss the issue, and continued, "Young love is so inspiring, is it not? I think I shall draw up a compatibility reading as well, as a gift to my passionate trespassers."
Minerva transfigured her pumpkin juice into rum and finished off her glass.
Y'all are odd, but then I knew that anyway.
Have apparently been volunteered for more quilting tomorrow morning, and Dad is talking molecular genetics at me, so I suppose bed would be nice. *yawn*
And, deprived of my ethernet fanfic feed, I've been on something of a cyberpunk kick: Have read Neuromancer, The Shockwave Rider, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, The Book of Merlyn, Catspaw and Dreamfall, Shadows on the Sun, and about half of my Cordwainer Smith anthology.
Would anyone be interested in reading HP fic about a street witch who ghosts into the Floo 'Nets and Framespace by jacking in with a neuromancy deck (similar to a cartomancy deck except that the Knave card is a blank Fifth Jack which allows a neuromancer to project herself into the information-based otherworld of wizarding portraits and parchments and pensieves), living on the fringe of a dystopian future society politically dominated by half-a-dozen pureblood Family conglomerates? I have it all plotted and everything! Lots of black leather! "The Shades of Erised"! Recordings of dead people stored in diaries! Drugs, body mods, fast carpets, and crazed sex!
Heh. Thought not.
Meanwhile, work on the S/M story is proceeding apace; Minnie is currently drunk in Sev's bed, which seems a good start, anyway. And apparently people are actually reading and enjoying these ?
Sybill Trelawney wafted dreamily into the Great Hall at dinner, and innocently took the no-man's-land seat between Severus and Minerva.
"Condescending to dine among us mortals, Sybill?" Minerva asked with raised eyebrows.
Sybill gave her a thin smile. "I prefer to descend to the noise of the school as little as possible, Minerva, in order to maintain the serenity of my Inner Eye. But this morning I found that the energies in my tower were entirely unsettled."
"Bad vibrations, Sybill?" asked Flitwick, across the table.
"It was so nerve-wracking," she gave him a look of misty gratitude. "As sensitive as I am, I could not endure the intensity of the perturbations."
"Something has scrambled Sybill's sensitivity?" hissed Severus.
"It is as the afterglow of a great emotion, the heartfire tincture of a grand passion marked by pain and destiny," emoted Sybill. "Such conflagrations of the heart leave auric ripples that can disrupt clairvoyance for eons to come. I will have to clear the room of influences before classes tomorrow."
"Who in the world would be getting passionate in your tower, Sybill?" asked Minerva, with a sidewise glance at Severus.
"Oh, it has happened before," said Sybill airily. "Every so often students will convince themselves my tower makes a romantic trysting place. `A seraglio ambiance,' I believe Molly Weasley described it." She gave a long-suffering sigh. "As soon as the forces are tranquil enough, before I perform the purification ritual to the aethers, I shall backtrace the auras of the perpetrators and explain to them that such-- things-- are damaging to my retreat."
"You can track aura remnants?" asked Minerva, sitting up straight.
"Quite easily," said Sybill smugly. "I know you believe divination is highly inaccurate, but with such strong emotional traces I've never made a wrong identification."
"Actually aura tracing is closer to Arithmancy than Divination," muttered Vector, next to Flitwick, but Minerva wasn't listening. She looked slightly shell-shocked, in fact, and sent Severus a desperate, pleading look.
"Oh no," he replied. "I took care of it last time. This one's all yours, woman."
Sybill looked from one of them to the other. "With all the disruptions of my Inner Eye, I fear I have missed something," she said.
"Never mind, Sybill," said Severus, passing her a dish. "Have some tripe."
She gave him a look, but decided to dismiss the issue, and continued, "Young love is so inspiring, is it not? I think I shall draw up a compatibility reading as well, as a gift to my passionate trespassers."
Minerva transfigured her pumpkin juice into rum and finished off her glass.
Y'all are odd, but then I knew that anyway.
Have apparently been volunteered for more quilting tomorrow morning, and Dad is talking molecular genetics at me, so I suppose bed would be nice. *yawn*