Cook's Journal

A few quick questions

Wed, 24 Sep 2008 16:22:05 GMT

If FOX News' Nevil Cavuto is right and evil scary black folk are responsible for the crisis that Hank Paulson's using as a pretext to further weaken the dollar so he and his buddies can profit (a plan that they didn't just dream up in reaction to AIG's meltdown last week, by the way: They've been planning this for months), then why were the Republicans and their high economic priest Greenspan so hepped on giving mortgages out to the people Cavuto now sees as The Enemy?

Furthermore, financial journalist David Cay Johnston wants to know:

Ask this question -- are the credit markets really about to seize up?

If they are then lots of business owners should be eager to tell how their bank is calling their 90-day revolving loans, rejecting new loans and demanding more cash on deposit. I called businessmen I know yesterday and not one of them reported such problems. Indeed, Citibank offered yesterday to lend me tens of thousands of dollars on my signature at 2.99 percent, well below the nearly 5 percent inflation rate. That offer came after I said no last week to a 4.99 percent loan.

If the problem is toxic mortgages then how come they are still being offered all over the Internet? On the main page AOL generates for me there is an ad for a 1.9% loan (which means you pay that interest rate and the rest of the interest is added to your balance due.) Why oh why or why would taxpayers be bailing out banks that are continuing to sell these toxic loans?

How does the proposal help Joe and Mary Sixpack who can afford their current monthly payment, but not the increased interest rate that has been or soon will take effect? Every day bankers work out loans with customers -- so why are taxpayers being asked to act when banks are largely on strike, refusing to negotiate revised deals with many loan customers?

How about interviewing small landlords who were drawn into these toxic loans? Are banks negotiating with them? If not it means more foreclosures and renters who had nothing to do with this being evicted. Ask why banks are refusing (landlords I spoke to said they are) to negotiate with small landlords.

What steps are being taken to take back bonuses, fees and other compensation from the folks who got rich selling toxic mortgages and illiquid investments that Secretary Paulsen claims are threatening the whole system.

Meanwhile, John McCain's campaign manager, Rick Davis, was still drawing $15,000 a month from his Fannie and Freddie Mac lobbying, right up to a few weeks ago (and pulled some dodgy accounting moves that look as though they were intended to obscure this fact)

Judging a Man by the Company He Keeps

Sun, 21 Sep 2008 05:50:07 GMT

Warning! Venting and facts in their proper context follow.

From the Washington Post:

The Ad: John McCain admits he doesn't understand the economy. So who advises him? Carly Fiorina, the fired CEO who got a $42 million golden parachute. Phil Gramm, the ex-senator who pushed through deregulation and called Americans hurt by this economy "whiners." Then there's George Bush, whose disastrous policies McCain wants to continue. They think the economy is fundamentally strong. We know they're fundamentally wrong.

Analysis: The key facts in this Barack Obama counterattack ad are accurate.

Meanwhile, McCain and his people have been spewing out lie after lie after lie on big things and small. (By the way: Know how the McCain and GOP TV ads constantly say that Obama's going to raise your taxes? Only those people making more than $250,000 a year -- the very top 1.9% of the income ladder -- will see a tax increase; most everyone else will see their taxes drop.) What was this about the GOP being the Morality Party? Or is "morality" another word for "making sure we can pry into your bedroom while we lead pervy sex lives"? Or is it "getting huffy when lefty bloggers cuss yet ignoring it when Dick Cheney tells Pat Leahy to 'go f--- yourself' on the Senate floor?"

Kitty!

Thu, 21 Aug 2008 04:07:11 GMT

Meet Yoda, the cute kitty with four ears.

Rumpole and the Killing Curse, Part Eleven

Mon, 18 Aug 2008 22:29:44 GMT

(Parts One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, and Ten.)

Yes, mes amis, after a very long hiatus, Rumpole and Company are back and faffing about in the Potterverse. For those of you who are just starting to read, this story was started pre-DH and was nearly derailed by it; however, after much prodding from A Certain Canadian, I've decided that ignoring DH is a Good Thing and have picked up the story again:

"Events are building to a resolution," Dumbledore informed us, She Who Must and myself, as we sat with various restorative beverages in the lounge. It was a raw afternoon in late October, the sort of day where a hot toddy would not be amiss; wind-lashed rain intermittently tapped upon and pelted the windows of Froxbury Mansions.

"Indeed?" I said.

"Indeed. Severus has succeeded in tricking Voldemort into forcing the issue before he was truly ready to strike. He plans to orchestrate a takeover of the Ministry of Magic, using his moles and various Ministry agents who are slated to be put under the Imperius Curse." Dumbledore smiled. "What Voldemort doesn't realize is that the loyal Ministry officials have been secretly dosed, by Severus, with potions to increase their resistance to Imperio."

"I see."

"The Dark Lord has picked Guy Fawkes' day for his move against the Ministry. I will try to keep you apprised, but it may be difficult as I will likely be spending most of my time communing with either Severus or Hermione from this point forward. In fact," he said, consulting his watch, "I need to pay a call on Severus right now. If you will excuse me..."

He winked out of the picture frame, taking his tea things with him. Outside, the pounding of the rain suddenly seemed all the louder for his absence.

"So we wait," said She Who Must, staring at the wall.

"Exactly," I replied, sipping the last of my formerly-hot toddy. "Wait, and hope not to draw the wrong sort of attention."

She nodded.

-------

The next few days were an exercise in waiting for the other shoe to drop. Hilda and I went about our business much as we had during the Blitz lo those many years ago. Any phone call, any visitor on the door-step, any stranger met on the Tube could presage disaster. Or disaster could simply come with no warning at all, like a Luftwaffe bomb dropped during the night-time on a block of flats.

To tell the truth, it was unnerving at first. But, just as we had done during the Blitz, we learned to live with it, after a fashion.

Affairs continued in this manner until well over a week after Guy Fawkes' day had come and gone.

----------

It was a brisk but clear evening in mid-November, a welcome break in the usual pissing-down that is a natural part of that cruelly grey month. It had been a wonderfully sunny day, a day of the sort that lulls you into thinking that perhaps the next few months of winter won't be as dull and dreary as they always are.

I had just come home to 25B Froxbury Mansions after a somewhat frustrating day spent in front of the Mad Bull, and a somewhat alcoholic afternoon licking my wounds -- or rather, sousing them in cheap wine -- at Pommeroy's plonk purveyorship. Hilda was in the kitchen preparing the evening meal, and there were hints that my assistance with the spuds would soon be required.

"Rumpole," said She Who Must, could you please come here and--"

There was a loud bang and a flash, the herald of an Apparating person, in the hallway near the door to the basement stairs.

One of the few perks of life at 25B is living on the ground floor of an establishment where the successive owners had not thought it worth the bother to try and turn the basement space into apartments. This meant that we have access to several hundred square feet of extra storage space, whereas the persons living above us do not. I've got into the habit of using it as a place to compose my stories, so as not to disturb Hilda with the noise of the typewriter should inspiration strike in the middle of the night. There is a slight problem in that the space is prone to rising damp, but one can't have everything.

I was up on the instant, my aged legs moving me towards the disturbance faster than I had thought possible. There was a clatter of metal in the kitchen; Hilda had, quite literally, dropped what she was doing, and she met me in the hallway. My hand was out, ready to cast the Shield of Tranquility, when I saw who our visitor was.

"Snape," I said, once I could get my wind back. "What are you doing here?"

"Hiding," was the curt reply, through gritted teeth. The reason for the gritted teeth was soon apparent: a widening stain of red soaked through his robes around a three-inch-long gash in the left sleeve thereof.

Snape jerked his head towards the basement. I followed him down, supporting him, and led him to my typing chair, which was my favorite overstuffed chair until Hilda banished it from the lounge for being too old and worn. He fell into it with a sigh, just as the sound of Hilda's shoes hitting wood reverberated on the stairs. She carried a small washbasin filled with water in one hand and a bottle of antiseptic in the other; one of her older bath towels was draped over an arm, along with a flannel and some bandages. For the briefest of moments, I thought I was looking at a head waiter.

Together we rolled up the sleeves of Snape's outer robe and shirt -- it was a blessing that the wizarding world was given to loose-fitting clothes -- and soon had his wound cleansed and dressed as only Hilda Wystan could do; she had had much practice on our son Nick when he was an energetic, adventurous youngster. Snape winced slightly as the antiseptic splashed his arm, but bore up well otherwise.

"As you can probably guess," he said, once he used his wand to clean and repair his vestments, "the Dark Lord has fallen."

"And you nearly with him?" I said, handing him a shot of whiskey, which he downed at one gulp that set him coughing.

"It was too close for comfort," he averred, once he could speak. "I was lucky to escape with this calling card from one of the Aurors. Fortunately, I Stunned him before he could try anything more, found a safe spot and Apparated away to Paris, then to Beijing, then to San Francisco, then to some hellhole in Samarkand, then to here."

"Covering your tracks, I take it?"

"As best I can. I did some locality-obscuring spells, but that was just gilding the lily; no one can trace an Apparating path through five successive --"

The door-bell upstairs interrupted him; Hilda excused herself to answer it, with me following quietly behind, just far enough to be able to signal to Snape if there were any problems.

A delighted exclamation on the part of Hilda eased my fears, though I suspected that they wouldn't ease Snape's. Nevertheless, I came back down the stairs to let him know that all was well.

"Who is it?" he breathed, not willing to take my word on faith.

I smiled. "Who, of all the people alive today, could track you here?"

Snape stared at me, first in puzzlement, then in something closely resembling dismay. "No -- she didn't -- she couldn't --"

"Could and did," I replied, as Hilda led Hermione Granger down the stairs.

To be continued...

Swiped from Acusa Dora and Rhos (she of the Kitty Pile Pic)

Fri, 15 Aug 2008 15:19:30 GMT

"If there are one or more people on your friends list who make your world a better place just because they exist, and who you would not have met (in real life or not) without the Internet, then post this same sentence in your journal." :-)

This Explains A Lot To Me

Thu, 31 Jul 2008 14:56:02 GMT

From today's Writer's Almanac by Garrison Keillor, honoring J.K. Rowling on her birthday, comes this passage concerning Rowling's tastes in literature:

J.K. Rowling has launched a new generation of readers (and some adult readers) into the world of fantasy, but it's a genre that she doesn't actually like much herself. She didn't even realize that she was writing fantasy until after her first book was published. She says, "You know, the unicorns were in there. There was the castle, God knows. But I really had not thought that that's what I was doing. And I think maybe the reason that it didn't occur to me is that I'm not a huge fan of fantasy." She has never managed to finish the Lord of the Rings series or the Narnia series, and her favorite authors are realists: Jane Austen, whom she calls "the pinnacle to which all other authors aspire," and contemporary Irish novelist Roddy Doyle.

This to my mind is a big reason why she's had such success. If you think like a genre writer, you write like a genre writer, and it's a very limiting thing. It's one reason why I like crossover fics so much: I like to see favorite characters from different books and genres interacting (imagine, for instance, how young Lily and young Sev might have turned out if they'd fallen through a hole in the universe and wound up in the Ramtops at Mistress Weatherwax's front door?).

A clever cartoon

Thu, 17 Jul 2008 02:00:27 GMT

Can be found here.

File this under "Talking People Off Ledges"

Tue, 01 Jul 2008 17:33:58 GMT

The AP earlier reported that Obama was allegedly planning to expand Bush's faith-based programs. Except that he's not -- not the way Bush tried.

Here's the reality, courtesy of Steve Benen at Salon:

http://www.salon.com/politics/war_room/2008/07/01/faith/index.html

It turns out that Obama, far from following Bush's policies, is turning them back.

He is going to RESTORE THE SAFEGUARDS that Bush had removed.

The deal is that, prior to Bush, religious charities and the Feds had worked together for decades, but always within strict parameters. Bush blew off those parameters. Obama intends to restore them. End of friggin' story.

And again, since we’re not likely going to get a rollback of all the tax cuts for the rich that have occurred over the past few decades, the only way that Obama can even begin next year to restore major portions of the frayed social-programs safety net is with the aid of religious charities.

Now can we stop freaking out about this? Thank you.

Father's Day

Sun, 15 Jun 2008 15:49:36 GMT

Shiv mentioned earlier that some people seem to think that fathers actually being fathers -- that is, spending time with their own children! (gasp!) -- is "babysitting"; that is, that it's either an act of self-abasement or a truly noble sacrifice. Well, being a good father is a noble thing indeed, but spending time with your kids isn't some extraordinary act -- it's part of the job.

I was reminded of this again by this blog piece written by a guy who spent the first three years of his wee daughter's life at home with her, looking after her and doing his blogging, while his wife and Fi's mom did the 9-to-5 thing (actually more like the 70-hour work week thing). On this Father's Day, I thought it might make some good reading.

Good for David Davis

Sat, 14 Jun 2008 05:38:02 GMT

I'm glad to see that he has a spine and a conscience.

Good News for Shiv (and everyone else, really)

Thu, 12 Jun 2008 15:55:17 GMT

Hope this helps the aching back and hands:

The Supreme Court Endorses Obama (UPDATED with VIDEO)
by wmtriallawyer [Subscribe]
Thu Jun 12, 2008 at 07:40:08 AM PDT
Well, not really. But with today's 5-4 decision restoring the writ of habeas corpus from the dastardly Military Commissions of Act of 2006, the Supreme Court sided with those Senators and Congressman -- including Obama -- who understood the rule of law and respected the Constitution more than fear.
I thought it might be constructive to go to the way back machine and see what the Democratic candidate for President exactly said about this act and the writ of habeas corpus in 2006...

Below is the full text of Obama's remarks on the bill on the floor of the Senate:

Mr. President, I would like to address the habeas corpus amendment that is on the floor and that we just heard a lengthy debate about between Senator Specter and Senator Warner.

A few years ago, I gave a speech in Boston that people talk about from time to time. In that speech, I spoke about why I love this country, why I love America, and what I believe sets this country apart from so many other nations in so many areas. I said:

That is the true genius of America--a faith in simple dreams, an insistence on small miracles; that we can tuck in our children at night and know that they are fed and clothed and safe from harm; that we can say what we think, write what we think, without hearing a sudden knock on the door. . . .

Without hearing a sudden knock on the door. I bring this up because what is at stake in this bill, and in the amendment that is currently being debated, is the right, in some sense, for people who hear that knock on the door and are placed in detention because the Government suspects them of terrorist activity to effectively challenge their detention by our Government.

Now, under the existing rules of the Detainee Treatment Act, court review of anyone's detention is severely restricted. Fortunately, the Supreme Court in Hamdan ensured that some meaningful review would take place. But in the absence of Senator Specter's amendment that is currently pending, we will essentially be going back to the same situation as if the Supreme Court had never ruled in Hamdan, a situation in which detainees effectively have no access to anything other than the Combatant Status Review Tribunal, or the CSRT.

Now, I think it is important for all of us to understand exactly the procedures that are currently provided for under the CSRT. I have actually read a few of the transcripts of proceedings under the CSRT. And I can tell you that oftentimes they provide detainees no meaningful recourse if the Government has the wrong guy.

Essentially, reading these transcripts, they proceed as follows: The Government says: You are a member of the Taliban. And the detainee will say: No, I'm not. And then the Government will not ask for proof from the detainee that he is not. There is no evidence that the detainee can offer to rebut the Government's charge.

The Government then moves on and says: And on such and such a date, you perpetrated such and such terrorist crime. And the detainee says: No, I didn't. You have the wrong guy. But again, he has no capacity to place into evidence anything that would rebut the Government's charge. And there is no effort to find out whether or not what he is saying is true.

And it proceeds like that until effectively the Government says, OK, that is the end of the tribunal, and he goes back to detention. Even if there is evidence that he was not involved in any terrorist activity, he may not have any mechanism to introduce that evidence into the hearing.

Now, the vast majority of the folks in Guantanamo, I suspect, are there for a reason. There are a lot of dangerous people. Particularly dangerous are people like Khalid Shaikh Mohammed. Ironically, those are the guys who are going to get real military procedures because they are going to be charged by the Government. But detainees who have not committed war crimes--or where the Government's case is not strong--may not have any recourse whatsoever.

The bottom line is this: Current procedures under the CSRT are such that a perfectly innocent individual could be held and could not rebut the Government's case and has no way of proving his innocence.

I would like somebody in this Chamber, somebody in this Government, to tell me why this is necessary. I do not want to hear that this is a new world and we face a new kind of enemy. I know that. I know that every time I think about my two little girls and worry for their safety--when I wonder if I really can tuck them in at night and know that they are safe from harm. I have as big of a stake as anybody on the other side of the aisle and anybody in this administration in capturing terrorists and incapacitating them. I would gladly take up arms myself against any terrorist threat to make sure my family is protected.

But as a parent, I can also imagine the terror I would feel if one of my family members were rounded up in the middle of the night and sent to Guantanamo without even getting one chance to ask why they were being held and being able to prove their innocence.

This is not just an entirely fictional scenario, by the way. We have already had reports by the CIA and various generals over the last few years saying that many of the detainees at Guantanamo should not have been there. As one U.S. commander of Guantanamo told the Wall Street Journal:

Sometimes, we just didn't get the right folks.

We all know about the recent case of the Canadian man who was suspected of terrorist connections, detained in New York, sent to Syria--through a rendition agreement--tortured, only to find out later it was all a case of mistaken identity and poor information.

In this war, where terrorists can plot undetected from within our borders, it is absolutely vital that our law enforcement agencies are able to detain and interrogate whoever they believe to be a suspect, and so it is understandable that mistakes will be made and identities will be confused. I don't blame the Government for that. This is an extraordinarily difficult war we are prosecuting against terrorists. There are going to be situations in which we cast too wide a net and capture the wrong person.

But what is avoidable is refusing to ever allow our legal system to correct these mistakes. By giving suspects a chance--even one chance-- to challenge the terms of their detention in court, to have a judge confirm that the Government has detained the right person for the right suspicions, we could solve this problem without harming our efforts in the war on terror one bit.

Let me respond to a couple of points that have been made on the other side. You will hear opponents of this amendment say it will give all kinds of rights to terrorist masterminds, such as Khalid Shaikh Mohammed. But that is not true. The irony of the underlying bill as it is written is that someone like Khalid Shaikh Mohammed is going to get basically a full military trial, with all of the bells and whistles. He will have counsel, he will be able to present evidence, and he will be able to rebut the Government's case. The feeling is that he is guilty of a war crime and to do otherwise might violate some of our agreements under the Geneva Conventions. I think that is good, that we are going to provide him with some procedure and process. I think we will convict him, and I think he will be brought to justice. I think justice will be carried out in his case.

But that won't be true for the detainees who are never charged with a terrorist crime, who have not committed a war crime. Under this bill, people who may have been simply at the wrong place at the wrong time-- and there may be just a few--will never get a chance to appeal their detention. So, essentially, the weaker the Government's case is against you, the fewer rights you have. Senator Specter's amendment would fix that, while still ensuring that terrorists like Mohammed are swiftly brought to justice.

You are also going to hear a lot about how lawyers are going to file all kinds of frivolous lawsuits on behalf of detainees if habeas corpus is in place. This is a cynical argument because I think we could get overwhelming support in this Chamber right now for a measure that would restrict habeas to a one-shot appeal that would be limited solely to whether someone was legally detained or not. I am not interested in allowing folks at Guantanamo to complain about whether their cell is too small or whether the food they get is sufficiently edible or to their tastes. That is not what this is about. We can craft a habeas bill that says the only question before the court is whether there is sufficient evidence to find that this person is truly an unlawful enemy combatant and belongs in this detention center. We can restrict it to that. And although I have seen some of those amendments floating around, those were not amendments that were admitted during this debate. It is a problem that is easily addressed. It is not a reason for us to wholesale eliminate habeas corpus.

Finally, you will hear some Senators argue that if habeas is allowed, it renders the CSRT process irrelevant because the courts will embark on de novo review, meaning they will completely retry these cases, take new evidence. So whatever findings were made in the CSRT are not really relevant because the court is essentially going to start all over again.

I actually think some of these Senators are right on this point. I believe we could actually set up a system in which a military tribunal is sufficient to make a determination as to whether someone is an enemy combatant and would not require the sort of traditional habeas corpus that is called for as a consequence of this amendment, where the court's role is simply to see whether proper procedures were met. The problem is that the way the CSRT is currently designed is so insufficient that we can anticipate the Supreme Court overturning this underlying bill, once again, in the absence of habeas corpus review.

I have had conversations with some of the sponsors of the underlying bill who say they agree that we have to beef up the CSRT procedures. Well, if we are going to revisit the CSRT procedures to make them stronger and make sure they comport with basic due process, why not leave habeas corpus in place until we have actually fixed it up to our satisfaction? Why rush through it 2 days before we are supposed to adjourn? Because some on the other side of the aisle want to go campaign on the issue of who is tougher on terrorism and national security.

Since 9/11, Americans have been asked to give up certain conveniences and civil liberties--long waits in airport security lines, random questioning because of a foreign-sounding last name--so that the Government can defeat terrorism wherever it may exist. It is a tough balance to strike. I think we have to acknowledge that whoever was in power right now, whoever was in the White House, whichever party was in control, that we would have to do some balancing between civil liberties and our need for security and to get tough on those who would do us harm.

Most of us have been willing to make some sacrifices because we know that, in the end, it helps to make us safer. But restricting somebody's right to challenge their imprisonment indefinitely is not going to make us safer. In fact, recent evidence shows it is probably making us less safe.

In Sunday's New York Times, it was reported that previous drafts of the recently released National Intelligence Estimate, a report of 16 different Government intelligence agencies, describe:

. . . actions by the United States Government that were determined to have stoked the jihad movement, like the indefinite detention of prisoners at Guantanamo Bay. . . .

This is not just unhelpful in our fight against terror, it is unnecessary. We don't need to imprison innocent people to win this war. For people who are guilty, we have the procedures in place to lock them up. That is who we are as a people. We do things right, and we do things fair.

Two days ago, every Member of this body received a letter, signed by 35 U.S. diplomats, many of whom served under Republican Presidents. They urged us to reconsider eliminating the rights of habeas corpus from this bill, saying:

To deny habeas corpus to our detainees can be seen as a prescription for how the captured members of our own military, diplomatic, and NGO personnel stationed abroad may be treated. . . . The Congress has every duty to insure their protection, and to avoid anything which will be taken as a justification, even by the most disturbed minds, that arbitrary arrest is the acceptable norm of the day in the relations between nations, and that judicial inquiry is an antique, trivial and dispensable luxury.

The world is watching what we do today in America. They will know what we do here today, and they will treat all of us accordingly in the future--our soldiers, our diplomats, our journalists, anybody who travels beyond these borders. I hope we remember this as we go forward. I sincerely hope we can protect what has been called the ``great writ''--a writ that has been in place in the Anglo-American legal system for over 700 years.

Mr. President, this should not be a difficult vote. I hope we pass this amendment because I think it is the only way to make sure this underlying bill preserves all the great traditions of our legal system and our way of life.

I yield the floor.

Thank you Senator Obama. Thank you, 5 members of the Supreme Court.

But no thanks to you, Sen. McCain. You voted for the act.

UPDATE:Video of part of Obama's speech below for those so enclined to view it:

Um, hello?

Mon, 09 Jun 2008 17:45:13 GMT

Coming up for air. Anything exciting happen while I was out?

Three of a Perfect Pair: Family Reunion

Thu, 13 Mar 2008 01:27:21 GMT

In which we find out that Johnny Slade is not very nice.

The last part is here.

The next part starts right behind the lj-cut:

(UPDATE: Since everybody whined about it being too short, I've added a bit more. :-)

It was the smell of bacon that brought House around. That, and the ever-present pain in his leg. It had been ages since his last Vicodin. Or at least a few hours.

He kept his eyes closed, feigning unconsciousness while he roused his other senses to full alert. He was lying on his back on a bed with a crappy mattress, unable to move but without physical restraints; that probably meant he was under the Full-Body Bind spell Snape had mentioned during his efforts to explain the wizarding world to House. Small room, to judge from the acoustics; probably a spare bedroom in a cottage somewhere. He could hear the clanking of a steam-heat boiler underneath him; it must be an older cottage, then.   His nose told him that the kitchen had to be nearby.

There was a voice in his head.   House? It's Snape. Can you register me?

Yeah.

Any idea where you are?

In a cottage. In a bedroom. I have all my limbs, so far. There's bacon cooking somewhere.

House felt a slight wave of what could have been horror coming from the potions master.   Fuck.

What's up, Snape?

That's almost certainly not bacon.   A pause. Have you seen your aunt?

House's stomach did a backflip, one he knew Snape could sense. He could feel another gasp on the psychic party-line; Hermione was listening in as well.

I thought so, Snape thought at him grimly.

There were sounds of someone moving around in the hallway outside the bedroom. House could feel the energy level of the Triad shoot up a few notches.

House, listen, Snape mind-whispered. When he comes in, I want you to look him full in the face. Understood?

Understood. Why?

No time to explain, just do it, Snape replied, just as Johnny Slade stepped into the room, bringing the bacon-smell with him. "Wakey, wakey, Greggy," he said, his mouth full of something. House suspected that he knew what it was...

Quick as a flash, House lifted his head and locked eyes with Johnny Slade.

There was a tremendous rush of power being poured into House's body. His frame stiffened in the Full-Body Bind, but most of the energy passed through him and straight into the wizard whose eyes met his.

Slade's eyes went wide. He made a choking sound, spitting out whatever he'd been eating; the plate from which he'd been eating fell to the floor with a crash. He found himself being shoved against the wall opposite House's bed with tremendous force.

House heard the unmistakable crack of bone against bone. He guessed, correctly as it turned out, that Slade's squama occipitalis had smacked against the C1 vertebra, cutting into his spinal cord. Slade's limbs went slack, and panic set in on his face as he realized that nothing below his chin worked any more, including his heart and lungs.

As he slid down the wall, Johnny Slade opened his mouth one more time: "Gaa-aa-aaa..."   House judged he had about five minutes, maybe ten, before he succumbed to hypoxia.

There was another rush of energy, and the double crack and flash that heralded a twin Apparition. Hermione and Snape stood at his bedside, holding hands.

"Let's get you out of here," Snape said, as Hermione cast the Finite Incantatem that freed House from the body bind.

"What about my aunt?" House said as Hermione helped him sit up, though he was afraid he already knew the answer. He could feel the hum of Granger's magic as she touched him, and it was comforting.

"It's too late for her," Snape said, indicating the contents of the fallen plate. "And it's best if you're not found here when the police arrive." He gave House a searching look. "Are you able to stand?"

"Yeah, if I had my cane --"

"Here," said Hermione briskly, pulling a piece of wood from her purse and tapping it with her wand. The piece grew, twisted, changed shape, and became something House recognized very well indeed.

"You'd dropped it when Slade took you," she said. "Here."

With Snape and Granger flanking him, House got to his feet. His hand held the cane with a white-knuckle grip.

"Okay," he rasped. "Let's blow this pop stand."

"Right," Snape nodded.

There was another double crack-and-flash, and the room was empty of all living humans, save one. And he wouldn't be alive much longer.

---------

"So," House said five minutes later, after Granger had put an Anti-Nausea Charm on him, "Slade had some sort of voodoo going to keep you from finding me?"

"Correct," Snape said, between sips of Glenfiddich. He, House and Granger were sitting together on the large sofa in the house in Beare Green, for psychic comfort more than anything else. Though the compulsion of the Triad was still there, simmering...

"He had both anti-tracking and anti-Apparition spells on the cottage," Hermione added; her own tumbler glass was nearly empty, and House refilled it for her before she could ask. "So long as he was alive, or at least able to sustain his own spells with an undamaged brain, we couldn't see you clearly, much less track you and rescue you.   If it hadn't been for the Triad..."

"I'd be goulash by now."

"Not yet," Snape said consideringly. "But you'd soon wish you were." He shuddered, despite the considerable amount of Glenfiddich already inside him.

"How did you know it wasn't bacon?"

"Because Slade's own particular quirk as a Death Eater was taking the concept quite literally."   Snape found himself shifting closer to Hermione, who was between the two of them. The comfort he was drawing from this astonished him. "He believed in what was euphemistically called 'incorporation'."

"By eating someone, you take on their power?"

"Precisely." Snape shuddered again. "There weren't many adherents of that particular bit of ghoulery, even among the Dark Lord's followers -- Slade, Bellatrix Black-Lestrange, McNair, perhaps a few others."

Just as she had in the cab, Hermione reached out to the men on either side of her -- but this time, she gripped their hands. "How.. disgustingly stupid."

"Indeed. Even the Dark Lord himself knew it didn't work. Though he didn't discourage the practice. He thought it useful to humour his minions."

There was a long stretch of time after that where none of the three said anything. They each merely sipped their drinks in silence, digesting -- for lack of a better word -- the events of the past few hours.

At last Hermione set down her glass on the table, looked at the men beside her, and said:

"So what do we do now?"

Now It Can Be Told

Tue, 26 Feb 2008 02:21:51 GMT

The sshg_exchange Big Reveal is here!

The story I wrote is here. The story written for me is here (thanks, ayerf!)

I had a blast, and I hope everyone else did, too.

Three of a Perfect Pair: Part I Forget What

Tue, 05 Feb 2008 17:03:58 GMT

Anyway, Clare's made her update, which can be found here and right here past the LJ-Cut:

A man stepped out of the room into which the other doctor was about to
take House. His hair was brown and scraggly and thin on top, but House
immediately knew who he was.

Johnny Slade.

"Hello, Greggy. Stupefy."

-------

"Oh Fuck," Snape and Hermione said simultaneously and managed to get
the disapproving stare of a mother herding her young children past
them.

"Sorry," Hermione said to the woman's retreating back, but Snape was
already running down passage. Hermione recovered from her shock and
sprung after him. "Was that...?" she said, shouting after him as he
shoved a couple of disgruntled nurses aside.

Snape grunted. "Yes."

"He was waiting for us, wasn't he?"

"Yes."

Hermione was not too sure where they were going, but knew innately
that the direction was correct - just like she knew where her arm was
at any given moment, even if it wasn't visible. "It was a trap,
wasn't it?"

"Will you stop stating the bloody obvious?" Snape said, not bothering
to hide the panic in his voice. Hermione could feel it as well as
hear it. In those last split seconds before House had fallen
unconscious, they had both seen who it was that House had been trapped
by. Johnny Slade had returned. It appeared that while in the midst
of all this triad business, they'd forgotten the real danger, and now
they were caught right in the middle of it.

And then Hermione stumbled due to the force of a wrenching sensation
inside her and skidded to a full stop. "Oh God," she said as she
leaned out to catch a wall for support. She clutched at her side,
gasping for breath. They must have run across half the hospital.
She raised her head and noticed that Snape had stopped just a little
way ahead of her. He was pacing between the two walls of the passage
they were in, and at one point stopped and slammed his fist into a
wall.

"Bugger," he said. "Bloody fucking buggery fuck bugger."

Hermione tentatively approached him. "We've lost him, haven't we?"

Snape gave her a look that could have wilted grass.

"Yes, yes, I know, the obvious and all that. We've got to find him.
What do we do?"

Snape sneered. "I don't know, Granger - my whole idea was to prevent
this from happening in the first place. You were the one who wanted
to go on an excursion."

Anger bubbled up inside her at the insinuation. "Look, I only agreed
to go with House because I knew he'd do whatever he wanted to whether
I was there or not. Someone had to watch him."

"We should never have left the house."

"Well it's too late for recriminations. We have to do something now!"

Snape narrowed his eyes and gave her a calculating look. "Yes, we are
going to do something." He began to walk back the way they had come,
grabbing her arm as he moved past her and yanking her along with him.

"What are you doing?" she said, sputtering her words.

"As soon as we get to a more secluded area, you are going to Apparate
home. I will look for House."

Hermione tried to pull her arm from Snape's grip. "Like bloody hell I
am. I'm coming with you."

"You'll do as I say."

"I'll do no such thing, Snape. Who do you think I am? I'm not your
student that you can bully around."

Snape stopped abruptly and turned on her. "You are no match for
Johnny Slade, little girl, and if you think you are, then you are more
of a danger to me than not. Go home, Hermione."

"No, Severus. I've fought against the likes of Slade, stood shoulder
to shoulder with Harry Potter, duelled countless Deatheaters in the
battle of Hogwarts and managed to evade even Voldemort for months. I
think I'm more than qualified to stand at your side. I can't say I'd
want to face Slade on my own, but two wands are better than one." She
tried hard not to pout as she looked at him steadily, knowing that
even the slightest movement of her bottom lip would betray her lack of
bravado. She dropped her voice low. "And, don't forget the triad."

Snape looked at her intently, and she wasn't sure what it was that he
was trying to prove to himself, but then he nodded, and she found
herself almost sighing in relief. He lifted a finger and dragged it
down her cheek. "Yes, the triad... Back in the cab, when we..." he
cleared his throat, "I could feel him there, with us. I can't feel
him anymore, can you?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, the link has been severed. Perhaps
because he's not conscious?"

"Perhaps. I don't know enough about the phenomenon to postulate.
There is a chance the link will return when he wakes up. Then again,
there is a chance that he won't wake up."

"You know Slade, is he the type to kill his enemies cleanly?"

There was a grim smile on Snape's lips that had nothing to do with
joy. "No, of course not. Slade will keep him alive - at least for
now. Whatever he wants, death is far too straightforward for Slade.
Perhaps we can bank on that - we have a little time."

Hermione nodded. "Good. Let's not bank on that too much." She
didn't want to think about what Slade would do that wasn't so
straightforward but trying not to think about it only brought House's
predicament to the forefront of her mind. A grisly frieze of images
marched across her mind, and she couldn't hold back the shudder which
was followed by a half-swallowed sob.

Snape reacted and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her
tightly. "We'll find him."

She burrowed her face into the crook of his neck, wishing she could
escape the situation for a little longer, but knowing that one quick
hug was all the solace she could allow herself before they began their
search in earnest. Already she was cataloging in her mind their
resources - people she could beg help from, books that might shed
light on the usefulness of the triad... But, in the midst of it all,
Snape's closeness still managed to ignite a fire under her skin and
caused her heart to race. They both froze.

"Hermione," Snape said almost inaudibly, "listen..."

She did. The general sounds of the hospital - electronic beeps and
whirs, hushed sounds of talking, brisk footsteps and the creak of
wheels - all faded away as she focused on the sounds of her own
breathing, and Snape's, her own heartbeat, and his... and then she
heard it. It was extremely faint, and she had to strain to pick it up
- but it was there: a soft, yet steady thump-thump. Her heart
constricted.

"It's his," she whispered. "I can hear it. He's still alive."

"And we're still connected."

Hermione drew away to look at Snape and lost the sound. "Wait," she
said. "I can't hear it anymore."

He quickly dragged her back into his arms and pressed her close.
"What about now?"

Smiling into his shoulder, Hermione said, "Yes, there it is. Now I hear it."

"Interesting..."

First they came for the librarians...

Fri, 11 Jan 2008 19:22:31 GMT

This is unbelieveable:

Remember when librarians used to be caricatured as stern matrons telling us all to shush up while we were at the library? That is, until they took on a front-line fight defending the civil liberties of Americans who just want to read books (or use computers). We all owe a debt to those librarians fighting against PATRIOT Act restrictions on free speech.
Which is why I'm not so sure it's a good idea for the FBI to make such a clumsy stand against free speech at the librarians' Midwinter Meeting tomorrow (h/t Momsrighthand) [note, the ALA article has been updated, but I'll keep the original]:
The attorney who represents FBI Supervisory Special Agent Bassem Youssef, chief of the Counterterrorism Division’s Communications Analysis Unit, advised the American Library Association’s Washington Office two days before the agent’s scheduled January 12 speech at ALA’s Midwinter Meeting at the Pennsylvania Convention Center in Philadelphia that the FBI had warned him against delivering the speech. Instead, Youssef would appear to answer “acceptable questions presented by members of the audience,”

The FBI has already gotten in trouble for trying to silence Special Agent Youssef. But apparently, they still don't want him to talk about problems with the FBI's counter-terrorism effort.
[F]ollowing a December 20 ALA press release that detailed the program, the FBI e-mailed Youssef January 3 and “expressed its displeasure at the proposed content of his presentation, and the viewpoints for which he would raise at the conference.” Kohn added that the Bureau “explicitly took exception” to the idea that Youssef “is expected to discuss a number of critical failures within the FBI’s Counterterrorism program, which undermine basic constitutional rights of American citizens and threaten the effectiveness of America’s counterterrorism efforts.”
The FBI e-mail then issued a clear warning to Youssef against making such a presentation, noted Kohn, who explained that the agency also forwarded to Youssef a multi-page document setting forth various rules concerning pre-publication clearance of any potential speech and forbidding him to show the rules to anyone outside the agency. “The FBI does not want the general public to know the contents of the censorship provisions it unconstitutionally demands that its agents follow,” Kohn wrote, advising that Youssef would not be able to make the planned presentation.

Call me crazy, but this is just clumsy.

Considering that it comes from the same agency whose wiretaps got turned off when it failed to pay the telephone companies running them (well whaddaya know? Greed works to preserve the right to privacy for a change), I'm not especially surprised.

Happy Birthday, Professor Snape!

Wed, 09 Jan 2008 05:51:25 GMT

So glad to see you beat the venom and the veil. ;-)

Happy Birthday, Lillith!

Wed, 09 Jan 2008 05:50:19 GMT

Many happy returns!

Three of a Perfect Pair, Part Nine

Mon, 24 Dec 2007 02:26:37 GMT

In which the Triad go to hospital:

About thirty seconds into the cab ride, House began to do something he hated to do, which was to question his own judgement.

It was bad enough having to walk alongside Snape and Hermione; being squeezed into a cab with them, even a capacious London cab, put the torture, and the urges, onto a whole new level. The one saving grace was that Hermione was between him and Snape, as he really didn't think that the professor, even in his current state, would appreciate having House's tongue down his throat. Though, House mused, I did shave this morning, so he might actually like it...

His musings were interrupted by a hand on his thigh. Oh, God.

The sad thing was that Granger wasn't even looking at him; she was reacting to Snape's nuzzling her neck. Her head was drawn back, and each of her hands had reflexively reached out for something -- someone -- to grab. At least with House, it was his leg she'd grabbed.

Not that Snape seemed to mind. Damn, he was good, House realized. As far as the cabby could probably tell, he was merely whispering comforting words into the ear of a fevered, sick girl. It was only the link enabled by the Triad's formation that let House know just how close Snape was to coming in his pants -- or how close he was to having Granger do the same. Her face was flushed and sweaty and dammit if it had been any other situation than this, he would have happily joined in. But he wasn't going to let some stupid spell or whatever the hell it was usurp his free will. He might be a drug addict, but he had some fucking pride. Uh-oh, he shouldn't have thought of fucking....

Hermione shuddered, then relaxed against Snape's shoulder, just as the cab pulled up to the marble fronted facade of Misercordia Hospital. She gave Snape a squeeze, and he soon joined her in release, the only outward sign of which was a momentary blankness that passed over his face. He didn't even need to whisper the Evanesco that cleaned his trousers.

As he paid off the cabby, House noticed that the energy emanating from them seemed to have dropped substantially, though there was still some there.

"Yes, it's dropped off considerably," Snape replied, picking up House's unspoken thoughts, as they walked through the foyer and into the reception area. He had one of Hermione's hands in his own, and he seemed more his old self, complete with bitter smirk, though perhaps there was a touch more of gentleness in his voice. "But all we did was buy some time to try your way and have it fail first."

"I'm not going to let some spell tell me what to do, Snape --"

A man in a while lab coat rushed up to them. "Greg! Thank God you're here! Did you get my phone message?" It was Andrew Scythemore, looking as flushed in his own way as Snape and Granger had not too long ago, though his agitation probably had a different origin.

"No, I didn't. What's up?"

"It's this patient of mine - I was going to tell you on the phone but you weren't there. Come this way."

House turned back towards Snape and Hermione. "I'll be back in a minute. You two keep each other company." He smirked, and then disappeared with Scythemore through a set of double doors down one of the corridors leading from the reception area to the rest of the hospital.

"What do we do now?" Hermione asked as she and the professor watched the doors swing shut behind House and the other doctor.

"We wait." And we eavesdrop.

How -- oh, replied Hermione, as she felt Snape establish a strong link between his mind, her mind, and that of House. They could now see what House was seeing, in a sort of hazy way, as he and the other doctor walked the corridor.

One of the Triad things?

Correct.

House, of course, was not pleased. What the fuck are you two doing in my mind?!

Keeping an eye on you, House. We're supposed to be protecting you, remember?

I don't need to be protected here, you dip--

A man stepped out of the room into which the other doctor was about to take House. His hair was brown and scraggly and thin on top, but House immediately knew who he was.

Johnny Slade.

"Hello, Greggy. Stupefy."

Rogue Chocolate.

Thu, 20 Dec 2007 17:34:30 GMT

http://www.roguechocolatier.com/products-page/

That is all. :-)

Three of a Perfect Pair, Part Eight

Wed, 12 Dec 2007 02:44:05 GMT

Clare's done her part, and here it is:

Watching Snape wrap his arms around Hermione as they kissed, left
House with a distinctly uncomfortable feeling. Not the least was some
of the things he appeared to be experiencing as they did so that made
him wonder if he'd finally overdosed on the vicodin. He could swear
he felt pressure against his own lips and a whisper of a hand on the
back of his neck, or was that on the small of his back? It was as if
an odd type of double sensation had layered itself over his own, and
he could actually feel Hermione... or possibly Snape... press their
body against him. The intensity robbed him of his breath and
completely unnerved him at the same time.

Thank God the train took that opportune time to jerk to a halt and the
couple were split apart.

House, who had to steady himself with the help of a seat back, reached
for his cane. "Come on, children, we're getting off."

He watched Hermione as she blinked a few times, then ran her pink
tongue across her lips. "Our stop's a couple over from here, House.
That will give a direct tube line to Diagon Alley."

"Due to circumstances, I think our little date has been cancelled,"
House said. "Wouldn't you agree, Snape?"

Snape nodded. His skin was flushed and his forehead was glistening
from his recent encounter. "We might want to remove ourselves from
the public, for now."

House peered through the window to the name of the station. "I have a
better idea."

He didn't wait for them to follow, but found his way off of the train
and onto the mostly empty platform. They were on the outskirts of
London, he knew that much, and he wasn't completely ignorant of the
city to know that they weren't too far off from Andrew's hospital. A
cab would get them there in no time.

What had happened on the train had rattled House more than he cared to
admit, and when all else failed, he reverted to what he knew best.
Medicine. Of all the stuff he'd encountered in the past week, this
'triad' business was the most frightening. He'd been able to deal
with the fact that magic could possibly exist in the world, that
wizards and witches existed apart in the same reality by rationalising
that there would always be things that science could not explain, and
that people only called 'magic' that which they could not understand.
That didn't mean that there wasn't an explanation or a reason or
something behind it. It was there regardless of if he knew it or not.

But this triad... this was something personal. This was something
that affected him directly. More directly that his aunt and her
deranged husband Johnny Slade. He felt the symptoms of it in a very
real and inexplicable way. He knew already that he was flushed, that
every nerve ending in his body thrummed with an unknown energy. As
soon as he had touched Granger on the train, it had been let loose.
And, there was no denying they way their kiss had felt, even though
he'd been standing a good two feet away.

It was impossible. By everything he knew and everything he had ever
learnt, such a thing was not possible. Not what Snape had suggested.
A magic that bound them together, with him as a catalyst, that would
burn them out unless... unless what? Unless they fucked each other?
It was damn ridiculous, that's what it was. Under normal
circumstances, he wouldn't mind sleeping with Granger - although she
was so young, barely an adult, that it would be borderline wicked - in
a good way. She was obviously no shrinking violet, no coy virgin, but
that much could just be false bravado. He'd seen that determined look
on Cuddy's face before... when she'd come to tell him about his leg,
about what Stacy had done.

House's stomach clenched at the unwanted thought and he shoved it back down.

But triad implied three. That meant not only Granger, but Snape as
well, didn't it? He tried to ponder the possibilities
dispassionately, and had to honestly tell himself that it wouldn't be
the worst thing he'd ever done. Snape's view on the matter would be
entirely different. The man had a broomstick shoved right up his ass
he was so straight. He doubted he'd care to have anything else shoved
up there. House allowed himself a smirk at the thought – it would be
worth the look on Snape's face simply to suggest it.

The idea turned to bitterness when House realised why sleeping with
either of them was so distasteful at the moment. It was the
compulsion that galled him more than anything. Given the opportunity
to fuck either one, or even both, House knew that he would probably
say what the hell and give in to his more hedonistic side – but only
of his own free will. But he wouldn't be forced to do it. Not him.
Nobody forced him to do anything he didn't want to do.

House came to the conclusion that he would have to figure out what was
really making this happen. Magic or no – there was always an
explanation – and he'd be damned if he wasn't one of the best
diagnosticians to ever walk the face of the earth. He needed to find
out what was really wrong with them and fix it.

He stopped walking and turned to look behind him only when he'd
finally reached the pavement outside the station. They had both
followed him obediently and were standing only a few feet away, hand
in hand, he noted.

Granger had a puzzled expression on her face and, Snape's was as dark
as a thundercloud.

"What do we do now?" Granger said first. "Find a hotel?"

She sounded brashly confident, but House didn't miss the quick shift
of her eyes.

"We still have some time, we should... make preparations." Snape's
tongue darted out to lick his lips. He couldn't hide his nervousness
as easily as Granger.

Strange, he was the one who was supposed to be the hardened spy.

Snape said, "We can't rush into this. From what I've read, there are
certain ways to go about, um, diffusing the tantric energy. A wrong
step could be fatal for one of us."

"No, of course not," Granger said as her eyes narrowed at Snape. "How
much do you know about this triad business, then?"

"Some, but not enough. The Dark Lord took an interest in it once and
set us to dig up whatever we could about it – although we found
little. I know it's a very rare phenomenon, but the stories of any
real cases of it have devolved into mythology – I wasn't convinced it
could really happen. Until now..." He gave Granger an odd sort of
look. His expression was almost tender – not one that could sit
easily on the pale man's face.

Granger pursed her lips. "I admit it is all a bit strange." Her eyes
flicked to House and back to Snape again. "I feel... I can't quite
describe it."

"Like every nerve in your body has been attached to a tiny electrode
with the voltage building up infinitesimally each passing second?"
House said.

Her lips twisted into a rueful half smile. "Somewhat like that,
although..." She looked at Snape expectantly.

"... the kiss," Snape continued for her, "increased the voltage one
hundred fold."

"I've never felt a kiss like that," she said quietly, her fingers
reaching up to touch her blood-infused lips as though she could
re-ignite the fire.

"I'm not that good a kisser, Miss Granger," Snape said with
self-mockery in his tone. "It's the magic – we invoked the triad."

"Hermione..." she said, absently, still brushing her fingers over her
lips in awe.

"I think if you've had your tongue down someone's throat you've got
the right to use their first name, Snape." House informed him
blithely. "Anyway, I think I need to find out what Hermione's talking
about." House stepped forward with a smirk, reaching for Granger as
he did.

Snape had other ideas. He stepped in front of Granger. "What do you
think you're bloody doing?"

"You got to kiss her," House said, "now it's my turn. It's only fair."

"I don't think so," Snape said. His voice was low and menacing.

"Would you rather I kissed you?" House said. The suggestion went down
as well as he expected it to. Snape made a nasty face, his lip
curling up in disgust.

"I'd rather kiss Weasley," Snape said.

"I'm sure you would, but unfortunately for you, Weasley's not part of
our little triad." House watched with a raised eyebrow as Snape's
fist clenched tightly. At least he hadn't drawn his wand on him yet.

"This pissing match is getting a bit old, don't you think?" Hermione
had stepped out from behind Snape with her hands planted firmly on her
hips and a cross little look on her face. Her hair was starting to
frizz at the ends a bit.

God, thought House, she looks entirely fuckable, now. I'm going mad.

"This is getting us nowhere. What we need to find is a library," she said.

House raised his other eyebrow. "Kinky, Granger, not what I'd
expected of you, but I'm game if your boyfriend is up for it."

She placed a hand on Snape's arm, his wand arm, House noted, and the
man flinched a little. "You should know by now to ignore him," she
said bluntly to Snape.

"If God exists," Snape said through clenched teeth, "then he's a sick
bastard for putting me through this on top of everything else."

House shrugged. "Well, all the chit chat is wonderful, but it's not
getting us anywhere. I've decided to veto Granger's library, as
tempting as that sounds." He turned to hail down a passing black cab.
"You two are obviously in no state to decide anything right now.
That kiss scrambled your brains. I've got more objectivity on a
bucket of vicodin."

"What do you propose, then?" Snape said rather hoarsely.

House smirked. It was practically an admission of surrender. "Get in
the cab," he said.

Hermione looked reluctant, but when Snape nodded, she followed him
into the back of the cab. House took the moment to admire her rear
end before he, too, climbed into the vehicle.

"Misercordia hospital," he told the driver.

Dear Sensible Texans

Thu, 29 Nov 2007 21:22:09 GMT

Do you know that a bunch of creationist nimnulls forced your state's Director of Science Curriculum to resign because she forwarded an e-mail on an upcoming talk by Barbara Forrest, renowned expert debunker of creationist bullshit?

In other words, the person in charge of your state's grade-school and high-school science curricula was forced to resign for doing her job, which in part includes the promotion of good science and alerting people to science-based events.

Finally finished my Exchange fic!

Tue, 06 Nov 2007 19:15:34 GMT

It's in the hands of the SSHG betas now. Whew!

This started off well, but the inspiration fairy deserted me after the first two thousand words; the middle thousand were a slog and a half, but the last five thousand came out of me in one glorious morning and afternoon. I'm afraid that it's short weight as stories go, but I hope that there's enough quality to make up for that.

Lily Evans is a silly person. Discuss.

Mon, 29 Oct 2007 15:09:08 GMT

Let's see: She lets Severus take all the blame for reading Petunia's mail exchange with Dumbledore (an incident that seals Tuney's hatred of wizarding folk), she freaks out at his display of inadvertent magic when she's been doing the same sort of thing, and she drops him, a person who literally worshipped the ground she walked on, for a guy who actually threatened to hex her ("Don't make me hex you!") -- and never really, despite her voiced dislike of his Slytherin friends, made any apparent effort to steer him from them. One gets the impression that he was just the non-cool childhood friend that she couldn't be around any more if she wanted to be Little Miss Cool Chick.

You're better off without her, Severus. Seriously.

Fandom News, Gathered From Unusual Spots.

Sat, 27 Oct 2007 16:46:37 GMT

Got this over at the Dark Christianity LJ group (where I don't usually find my Potterverse news):

http://community.livejournal.com/dark_christian/989048.html

The person shutting her site down because she thinks that a gay character in the Potterverse is amoral is also the person who was most famous a few years ago for drawing and showing a pic of naked-Snape-in-bathtub, his genitals obscured by soap foam and bubbles. For a fee, IIRC, she'd send you a version of that pic without the bubbles, as well as other naughty pics. (Here's a reference to said bathtub pic, thanks to the magic of Google. The original link was over at her site on http://www.jareth.com/bath.html but the pic's been taken down.)

This has been your Weird Potterverse News From Unusual Sources for the day. :-)

UPDATE: Thanks to sander123, who found an archived version of the covered-by-bubbles version of the bathtub pic. Do you see that he's reading a National Geographic? Back before Playboy and the like, American men (if not British ones) would use this mag as a 'respectable' way to ogle naked women, since it was okay to look at naked women if they came from the developing world and weren't white women.

(Crossposted to snapedom and my own LJ.)