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Welcome to Subtextual Healing!

Severus Snape is my little black dress of the Harry Potter fandom; I'm also an unrepentant pairing (and genre) whore—I like gen, too! With the exception of Getting Severus Married, my fic is publicly posted at the Archive of Our Own.

I agree with Tom, this is my fave photo caption on Wikipedia, too.

In other news, I saw Miss Bess and Evoria today.

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Today was too busy to completely recap at the mo, but it started in a rather motivating way for Shog with Albus' cold nose in his behind; I heard Shog's shout from the kitchen. ;P This is relevant because now cats are pawing sharply at his delicate bits with the intention of persuading him to feed them. Din is v. late!

*goes to save Shog*

A proper weekend (long post is long)

Shog and I had an interesting weekend of entirely planned unplanned activity; we just decided not to make any plans and keep going until we couldn’tCollapse )

I hope that you all had a great weekend! :D

P.S. Shog sends links: Same bat time, same bat place and a capybara with puppies!
I'm out of homemade bone and veggie broths, so I had to wing it with store bought broth and bouillon, but it turned out all right. My goal: clean out my fridge and pantry! My solution: Fridge & Pantry Soup!

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We enjoyed the soup tonight before its flavors had a chance to meld overnight, but that's fine. I'm going to freeze some of it, and to a four-cup, reheated pot (some time a few, cooler weeks from now), I'm going to blend in some peanut butter to make it a wee bit heartier. :D

It's been a pretty damn good day: I walked, read, wrote, volunteered, cooked, baked, communed (with my fuzzies), and talked (a friend down from throttling her teen in his sleep; someone was Pokémon Go-ing all night and slept most of the day). I think I might reward myself with a movie. Shog wants to see Sausage Party, which is never going to happen. I'd much rather see Florence Foster Jenkins. Of course, we could always stay in and watch Deadpool a fourth time. *rolls eyes*

*smooches all*
Shog is walking between 8-10 miles per day and restricting his calories, sometimes to approximately 1200 calories per day. (I think his weight loss success is making him impatient to Lose All the Weight Right Now!) That's not healthy because a grown man shouldn't dip below 1500 calories per day. This morning when he made noises about possibly skipping lunch, I decided to make Homemade Blueberry Market Muffins to tempt Shog into eating more calories, and it worked! *\o/*

I'm usually quite supportive of Shog and don't try to steer him away from his goals, but I can't have the man falling over for lack of eating coupled with excessive exercise and sun exposure, so I thought a homemade market muffin was the way to go. Now, a typical market muffin can have anywhere from 800-1200 calories (and is baked with who knows what craptastic ingredients), which is alarming. Under the cut tag, please find my healthier recipe for Homemade Blueberry Market Muffins.

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I've purchased an actual, physical book!

I've purchased an actual, physical book!

Lovecraft Country, by Matt Ruff, is:

A novel of Jim Crow America that melds historical fiction, pulp noir, and Lovecraftian horror and fantasy.

Chicago, 1954. When his father goes missing, twenty-two-year-old Army veteran Atticus Turner embarks on a road trip to New England to find him, accompanied by his uncle George—publisher of
The Safe Negro Travel Guide—and his childhood friend Letitia. On their journey to the manor of Samuel Braithwhite—heir to the estate that owned one of Atticus's ancestors—they encounter both the mundane terrors of white America and malevolent spirits that seem straight out of the weird tales George devours.

Lovecraft's mythos seems like it would dovetail quite terrifyingly with the Jim Crow era; I cannot wait to see how Ruff connects the two.

Yes, I know; I've bought another book before finishing the one I already had *coughsCursedChildcoughs* but Shog's work week has been hell, and we've not yet had time to pick the play back up. I suppose that I could, but it's been fun reading together. *is impatiently patient*

I'm currently reading Anne of Green Gables to the kids at the library. Making me happy: the little boys are just as interested in it as are the little girls. Making me happiest: the kids are actually listening to an "ancient" book!

Expected reaction: The tittering I heard when Anne asks, "Marilla . . . do you think that I
shall ever have a bosom friend in Avonlea?" The kids definitely have opinions on the matter of bosom friendship. ;P

jedibuttercup is love!

jedibuttercup is an amazingly prolific writer (66 fandoms, including HP!) who can make one believe anything; she is the Crossover Queen! She just revisited the First Lines Meme, and you might really enjoy taking a look at her range because she's one of fandom's best writers.

Of late, I've read and enjoyed her take on Oz in Star Fleet (Spock figures!), Engineers Wear Red Shirts, Too (B:tVS/Star Trek AOS; gen; 3000 words): Oz knows there's no mission like an away mission with half the senior staff in the line of fire, and her excellent Sleepy Hollow/B:tVS crossover fic involving Abbie Mills and the Scoobies, Into Every Generation—Whoops, Wrong Tagline (PG; gen): Abbie meets another universe's version of 'she who saves the world a lot.'

P.S. I also got to alpha read her fic for the het_bigbang, and it is wonderful, and wonderfully fix-y!
I updated my list of SS/HG fan works, now my list of SS/HG & SSHG Fan Works, to include not only pairing-centric and implied-pairing fic, but also gen fic. So far, that's a list of one story because, after reading a certain play, I realized that I'd written an SSHG story involving a Time-Turner in 2011 for hogwarts_houses. It was Once Upon an Unspeakable Spin (PG-13; Hermione Granger, Severus Snape, and others; 1805 words): Things spin out of control for Hermione and Severus on the edge of Hogwarts' grounds. I really like this fic; I can't believe I forgot it!

I've also been working on my smutty_claus sign up, but things have taken an odd turn. Do I really want to see Canon Male Character/Original Hag Character in a holiday gift exchange present? Yes, yes, I do, but pragmatically, I need to dial back the rarity of my requests. :P I thought I'd only written for the fest three times, but today, I realized that it was four times!

FYI: smutty_claus has posted this year's rules and FAQ. :D

I also realized that I needed to get going on my Obscuro! offering. I did think about it today.

As well, I remembered that I had written Severus/Petunia—A Brief Exercise in Self-Occlumency (PG-13; Severus Snape; 2790 words): Severus reflects upon his failures and vows not to fail a little girl who doesn't know what he is—so I updated my Snape-ian LBD Number list. (My Snape-ian LBD number is 63!) I wrote this super long beginning to what would have been a fairly epic fic, but then I thought, Oh, the ownficfest's deadline is coming! and had to cut the story down a lot. I would like to finish that story, among a few others . . . .

What I learnt today was that I can read and enjoy my older fics (and that I've written too many of them {791?!} to remember them all *snorts*); that made me happy. As well, I don't need to be asking for Mrs Ginny Potter/Draco on my smutty_claus sign up, either. It's a holiday fest, damn it!

*rolls eyes at self*

Shog and I had no time for response reading Cursed Child today; his work mates released a lot of dragons that he had to recapture and/or slay, and while he was doing that, I dealt with bills, property taxes, and various acts of heroic cleaning and grudging editing—not mine; I owed a friend a favor, and her syntax is nasty boring. *says that with love*

I hope you're all well and that your day was not outside in the elements. *waves*

P.S. No, I've not forgotten slash, really. I still write that.
Even though it sucks to keep having to wait for him (although the basement is clean now *\o/*), I'm thoroughly enjoying reading the play aloud to Shog (and he's enjoying being read to, even though he doesn't want to admit it). These thoughts continue to be of the moment and not quite coherent. You should be able to follow them if you've read the play. We pick up just after the start of the second act and end closer to its end than not.

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Oh, I'm sorry we stopped where we did, but my poor confused dog needed a walk. Albus: "Why do you keep saying my name?!" *pets him*

Shog-sent links & question

"This is the kind of stuff that makes news in a small town." WS story involving a man's equipment. Funny.

Not Safe for Hearts: Poutine pie—Shog wants to try this. I do not.

One morning at the market. Warning for naked carrots. WS for people.

How was the weather for everyone, today? It felt to me as if stepping outside was stepping into simmering water. I'm really glad that I didn't have anywhere else to be after the farmers' market. *prays to weather gods for a break*

I'm prepared to make sacrifices for cooler, dryer air. What do you think the weather gods would accept?



Shog appears to have been so appalled by something that he's taken refuge in Harry Potter dad jokes, so I thought I'd make another response post. Spoilers follow!Collapse )

P.S. These are the dad jokes Shog's making up to amuse/distract himself:

  • If Harry Potter had bad grammar at Christmas, he would be the boy who gived.

  • If Harry Potter went to prison and killed someone with an improvised knife, he would be the boy who shivved.

  • If Harry Potter played a 4X video game, he would be the boy who civ'ed.

  • If Harry Potter made pasta, he would be the boy who sieved.

  • If Harry Potter became a Catholic priest, he would be the boy who shrivved.

*rolls eyes*
Just FYI: If you're on Reddit, r/harrypotter has some interesting discussions by people who've seen the production, and someone's doing an AMA there (sorry for the lack of linkage, but Google still works).

To the cut! Spoilers follow!Collapse )


Now I know why Shog hasn't wanted me to go downstairs to the basement; his neglect of the cat boxes has become the neglect of most of the basement. It is bad, so bad that my shriek of dismay, which carried with it not a little bit of rage, scared him half to death.

I will see to it that he meets a full death if the basement isn't, as he's just promised, completely cleaned by tomorrow evening.


I'm going to have to find a cleaner immediately. I just can't do everything by myself.


Non-spoilery note: These reaction posts aren't meant to be "deep"; they're just my squeeing/not squeeing as I read to Shog.

Non-spoilery, unpopular opinion: I am (only three scenes in) enjoying reading the play. I am reading aloud to Shog, so it will take some time to get through the play; Shog has limited patience and interest in it as he's an Epilogue? what Epilogue? man.

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Snarry, translated!

A Hidden, Reckless Softness (PG; Snarry; 650 words: Severus knows the secret to keeping a lover) has been translated into Russian by lir_oi! *dances* Thank you, lir_oi!


lir_oi wants to translate A Hidden, Reckless Softness into Russian! Of course, I said yes! *dances*

Best of all? Shog saved bacon for me!

I awoke an hour and a half ago to find myself blanketed by cats, bolstered by dog, and without Shog. He was doing dishes. Dishes! Why? Because I've not been doing dishes for the same reason that I occasionally refuse to wash "the" towels (they are our towels and dishes, after all), and Shog apparently felt the need to fry bacon to add to an early-morning roast beef, bacon, and cheese sandwich. *snorts* When he saw me, he asked a Very Important Question.

Shog: "Do you ever feel awash in ignorance because of all you don't know? You know, like you're just floating on top of an ocean of information in which you'll never swim? . . . I mean, just what are those holes in waffles called?"

I: "They're dimples. They might have a more technical name, but they're still dimples. . . . Okay, Google, what are the holes in waffles called?"

Google: [Sends us to the language-related Stack Exchange, where we learn that, among Belgian waffle makers, Belgian waffles being, apparently, "the best kind of waffles," waffle holes/dimples are referred to as "pockets."]

I: "There we are, 'adry' in knowledge, and no, I'm not going to make waffles."

Shog: [Pouts.]

I: "I never feel dismayed by all the knowledge I don't know. I accept that I can't know everything, and that upon Cthulhu's eventual rise from R'lyeh, I'll simply have to escape through an extra-astral portal and make a new life for myself in the ruins of his world with the other refugees. . . . You'll always be welcome after your fight against the Old Ones with cold iron is done—unless you've become an actual shoggoth, that is. In that case, we'd have to run tests on you, first."

Shog: "So, if I were a Cylon, you'd kill me outright, but if I became a shambling horror, you'd run tests on me?"

I: "Biddable shambling horrors have their uses."

I then tucked Shog back into bed and fed the fuzzies before trying to get back to sleep, myself, while considering how very much I wouldn't want to be eaten first in the event of Cthulhu's awakening.