Then and Now

I'm pleased to say that I have finally posted chapter twenty-six of Riddles in the Dark-Tom and I-. I'm not exactly sure why I'm posting this here, only that in the future, I hope to post a link on my HPFF author page to my humble blog, here.

So, if anyone from HPFF happens upon this, the chapter is entitled "Then and Now."

When the Cat Grasps On To Life

I feel a little bit better now. Better enough, at least, to put down my thoughts in more of a coherent manner.

My dad came into my room not too long ago, just to check on me because my door was closed. Inevitably, he discovered me crying, inquired what was wrong, and I told him about what I had just found. It felt so good just to talk to someone about it, and I was immeasurably grateful that he had walked in at that precise moment. I had no one else to talk to; indeed, if I hadn't been found, I wouldn't have told anyone. Not yet.

I learned that my grandfather has written quite a bit in the past--not creatively, more analytical than anything else. It eventually came to the point that whenever he released a new book, the critics would brutally tear him into pieces without even reading what he had written before doing so. I wish that the same would apply to me in this case, because some of my "flamers" had valid points, even if they noted them harshly.

In English, we watched a movie on John Steinbeck, and as we did so, I couldn't help but notice the parallels between us. Steinbeck, after being criticized extensively for The Grapes of Wrath, took their words to heart and never wrote a word of fiction again. This is something, about only an hour ago, I considered doing.

But I suppose that I do feel somewhat better after talking with my dad. I am not, by any means, happy, but I've been coaxed into not deleting A Maid in the Malfoy Manor from HPFF. It's been deleted from everywhere else except Quizilla already.

When Curiousity Brutally Murders the Cat

I've often wondered why it is that good things never last. At the moment, I don't know what more I can really say, because I'm so upset that I cannot bring myself to even cry. My body is shaking and my heart is pounding; this has happened to me only once before.

Since I do not know if I can even stand to type, I'll simply provide a link. I'll simply say that my fanfiction.net name is MyPhoenixLament. Here is the reason that I don't think I'll be able to write for a while.

But I think that it will suffice to say that A Maid in the Malfoy Manor is going to be deleted from each and every place it has been posted. It has only brought me trouble and heartbreak.

Trusted Author At Last

As I entered the forums and made my way to the Prefects' Lounge this afternoon, something caught my eye.

The Prefects' Lounge is a place for the more trusted members of the HPFF forum to discuss the site itself, or go more into depth about things mentioned in the main forum. Only Prefects can access this section of the forum. As I am a Prefect, this is where I first heard of this year's April Fool's Day event.

As I was browsing the Lounge, looking for an interesting topic, I found one entitled "Hello Trusted Folks." Immediately, I clicked on it, for I had been hoping to find any information about becoming a Trusted Author on the archive. (A Trusted Author is the equivalent to a Prefect on the forums.) I had been coveting this status for a year now, and had begun to worry that I would never reach it.

Several months ago, I foolishly attempted to make my own banner for a one-shot that I was posting, and, unaware of the size limitations posted it only to have it deleted and an email sent telling me it was a pixel or so too large. From reading various things about Trusted Authors, I knew that this meant I would be returned to "square one," and would have to wait quite some time to achieve the Trusted status—if ever.

Much to my delight, this is what I read:

Well, Lauren brought up the list of prefects that
weren't trusted and compiled it. You all understand the site rules, so please
don't break them Most of you were bumped to trusted except for the author names
I couldn't find. So, if you are a prefect and your account hasn't been moved to
trusted - here it is - your chance to yell at me. Actually, if you could just PM
me your pennames if you can't log in that would work too
shade

I bit my lip and hurriedly returned to the archive to log into my account. And sure enough, as I logged into my account and proceeded to click upon the "Add New Chapter" link under Edit/Delete Stories, I found that I could, indeed, add a new chapter. Excitedly, I rushed to log into a friend's account, someone who I knew wasn't on the Trusted list. And when I went to add a chapter, it told me that I couldn't (or rather, she couldn't, depending how one would choose to view it at the moment) do it. I was given an error message.

And so, I am ecstatic to say that I am now officially a Trusted Author on HPFF, thanks to my status as a Prefect. I've had such wonderful luck this week on HPFF, I feel a rather blissful happiness wash over me as I lay here upon the sofa—the same sofa on which I was so frightened last night.

Websites to Avoid

No doubt, by looking at the time, you have realized just how late it is. For some reason, sleep seems as if it wishes to elude me tonight, or at least for the time-being, so I am left with nothing to do but let my fingers carry me away as I type.

But now, to the task at hand.

There is a website or two that I have encountered that are really quite terrible. Websites, in fact, that I used to enjoy, but no longer do because of what they have become--or rather, what I have realized them to be.

For instance, the website you should be the most careful to avoid is Gaia Online. At this site, you are sure to encounter a collection of the rudest people in the world. And I mean this quite literally, because Gaia is a place where people of all ages from all countries commune. From that last sentence, you would think that it is a wonderful place. The truth, as you might have guessed, is that it is far from wonderful. Gaia is a ghastly place, most especially the Writer's Forum. Once, did I enter said forum, and my visit only resulted in being flamed to death for attempting to help someone.

Several hours ago, I allowed my stepsister to use my account, as she quit the site some weeks ago, and I gave her access to it. Unfortunately, she posted a topic in the main forum (the Chatterbox), which is something I vowed never again to do. (This was because of the fight that erupted in the Writer's Forum. I secluded myself to select guilds.) Just minutes ago, I checked the topic, and to my horror, I found myself once again flamed. At first, I had thought that it was just me that all of the Gaians seemed to dislike. But now I realize that they aren't prejudiced. They flamed my stepsister as well.

Now. The other websites which I rather dislike (or begrudge) are admittedly not as terrible as the one I have just mentioned. I still use them, though I am careful when I do.

Fanfiction.net is rather frightening, simply because of all the things you can find there. (Such as highly descriptive rape scenes, bizarre [slash] pairings, and terrible writing.) If you ever choose to visit this site, you must be highly certain of what you are looking for, as you can stumble upon some very unpleasant things if you're not careful enough. Granted, there is some decent writing, but it's a rare (and refreshing) thing, rather like finding a rose in a garden of weeds.

However, I would highly caution anyone against actually posting stories there. Just as on Gaia, people are horribly rude. It is highly likely that you will receive reviews that have the capability to send you into a state of depression--and I do not say this lightly. I know this because of a story I attempted to post there entitled A Maid in the Malfoy Manor. My first review told me that my character was a Mary Sue (which she was not, because I have consulted several people on this), and my third review was a flame berating me for how I portrayed the Scottish incorrectly. Needless to say, I deleted the story immediately and refused to post for a long while afterward.

Lastly, two sites you should also be careful when browsing are QuickKwiz and Quizilla. The latter is filled with terrible writing, and the former, while enjoyable if you know what you are looking for, contains a vast quantity of disgusting items. I've not taken personal insult from them, but it is likely only a matter of time.

I edit this later today in hopes that you will ignore this. In light of today's discovery, it would seem that I am to be brilliantly flamed for every little thing that I do, and so I would not want to come off as complaining too terribly, because I am only going to be torn apart for it. Thankfully, as of yet no one knows of this humble blog, so I can complain all I like without anyone to have to listen to me. It's a fair arrangement, I think.

The Secret Diary of Legolas

I really have to post this here. It isn't mine, I'm disclaiming it right now. And I don't mean for this to become a scrapbook or anything of the like, it's just that I happened upon it around four years ago, and fell in love with it. Granted, I was much younger, but still...

The link for the original Very Secret Diaries by Cassandra Claire can be found here.

Late Night Fear

I do not like staying home alone at night. Well, not alone, exactly: my stepsister is sitting here upon the sofa beside me. What I mean to say is that I dislike it when it is just the two of us here, without my father, and will be that way until the following afternoon. That is the situation in which I find myself at the moment.

One might expect that it is a privilege to be left alone for such a length of time. That it shows the trust formed between my father and I, and my stepsister as well. One might expect that I should be proud of this and relish the fact that I have the confidence of my guardian.

This is true, but only to a partial extent.

It is now ten-thirty in the evening here where I live, and just minutes ago, the doorbell rang.

If this has happened to you before, then you should know the absolute terror that went through my mind as I huddled down into the sofa cushions, curling into the fetal position and clutching my father's laptop to my chest,

"Don't get it," she whispered, motioning for me to be silent. She was frozen and her eyes were alert. We listened as our miniature dachshund, Loki, barked feverishly at the front door, just as he had done about an hour before, and for apparently no reason.

We waited in agonizing silence penetrated only by the sound of the television and the dog's persistently aggressive yips. It is a frightening thing, closing your eyes and listening to this, pleading for whoever they are to simply go away. I could almost hear the quick, heavy beats of my heart.

Perhaps I was simply over-reacting, or even being hormonal, but I nearly started to cry. But eventually, Loki's cries died down into occasional snorts, and we could breathe once more.

At the moment, we have no idea who it was calling on us this late at night, but we have hopes that it was simply a neighbor upset that the volume on the television was up too loud. Needless to say, we have turned it down to just above nonexistent.

I often wonder if I over-think things.

But now, the three of us have calmed, and my heart beat has returned to its normal rate. I think that writing this entry has helped to soothe me, because I find that writing about the goings-on in my life helps to clear the troubles from my mind. I've not yet given up on a hand-written journal; I have one here with me now, the last entry a week or so ago. So I suppose I record my thoughts in whatever is at hand--or easily acquired. At the moment, this is my medium.

Melancholy Waltz

Melancholy Waltz

A Kate/Sawyer [LOST] ficlet I wrote

THE hatch was empty of everyone except her. Its usual occupants had long-since left, venturing into the jungle to parts unexplored. And they had left her behind, just as they always had and no doubt always would. The unfairness of it only glanced off her mind, however, as this time, she didn’t mind having a moment alone.

With a switch at the wall, she dimmed the flickering fluorescent lights above–those that had not gone out. For a second, they shone within her eyes, then died. Died as if the very life within them had been snatched away. But she didn’t notice this, even if someone else did. All she noticed, as the room fell into shadows and became cluttered with undefined shapes, was the old record player.

She’d touched it before, but never had she been alone with it to play whatever she so desired. As she examined the multitude of albums, the discs safely slipped inside, she felt a certain thrill at her ability to choose. A world of music was at her fingertips, and there wasn’t anyone there to tell her which one to pluck from the shelf.

But after several moments of contemplation, she closed her eyes and extended her hands. Her fingers brushed against the tattered corners of the albums, and from her sense of touch alone, she selected one, pulling it free from the others.

She didn’t recognize the name. Even the songs, as they spun from the crackling disc, were unfamiliar. Slow and melancholy.

Without thinking, she moved her feet in quiet, awkward steps, just off the music’s rhythm.

One two three, one two three...

She counted the beat in her head, furrowing her brow. A waltz. She frowned slightly, and she staggered. She hadn’t ever liked dancing–not like this. She’d never been so graceful as the slender women she’d seen on the television, gliding and glittering across the screen with their painted lips pursed. She wasn’t one of them, though at one point, she had secretly envied them.

But now, she was just Kate. Kate the fugitive. Kate who climbed trees and hunted boar.

Her steps turned more daring, even angry, as she began to fall into the tune that played. She held her right arm out, her hand grasped around that of an imaginary partner, and together they spun in circles around the hatch. Sometimes she led, and sometimes she followed, but never did she feel in control.

Suddenly, she stumbled, her head spinning in a dizzy delirium. It was like she was watching herself fall, only she never hit the ground. Never felt the impact. All she felt was the pair of strong arms that grasped her from behind and held her tight until all she could do was sink into them and breathe.

”Why you cryin’, Freckles?” His Southern drawl was but a whisper in her ear. She hadn’t noticed the wetness of her cheeks until now, but as she did, she shivered.

”Let me go, Sawyer,” she murmured feebly. As she blinked, she felt the dampness from her clinging eyelashes trail along her skin. “And I’m not crying.”

”You ain’t kidding nobody but yourself, Sassafras.”

He brought her to her feet, and she stood there listlessly, unable to meet his eyes.

”C’mon now, lemme show you how it’s done.”

She felt the roughness of his palm as he laced his fingers between hers, his other hand resting just above her hip. Then she looked up at his rugged face, and he smiled.

And they led each other in a melancholy waltz.

A Pleasant Surprise

IF you've read my first post, you can likely tell how fond of HPFF I am. And one of the reasons for this is, beside the fact that it covers all of my Harry Potter fanfiction needs, every April Fool's Day the site dons the skin of an elaborate spoof (this year, it was of mugglenet) and a multitude of spamming ensues on the forums. This April marked the one-year anniversary of my joining the main fanfiction site, so you can probably guess how eager I was for the first of the month to roll around.

Normally, the forums are run in an orderly manner, where every post expresses, for the most part, educated opinions or predictions about the Potterverse. So you can imagine what a treat it was to just let my fingers loose and type what I pleased--even if it made absolutely no sense at all.

Now, this year, the staff donned new usernames and posted as newbies around the forums, bringing everyone to their wit's ends. There were some of us, of course, that happily realized exactly what was going on, but all the same, we pretended to be frustrated. Some of the alter-egos were Mary Sue, Gary Stu, and QQQ. (A Mary Sue is a character that is perfect, and a Gary Stu refers to her male counterpart. QQQ refers to Quick Quotes Quill.)

At the end of all the blissful madness, a contest was held that asked members to guess which staffers had which alter-egos. On a sudden whim, I put my guesses down, almost sure of only one of them.

And yet, yesterday, this is what I received:

LostMaeblleshire,

LogicalRaven has sent you this email from [website url]

Dear Member,

Congrats, you have won the Guess A Staff competition for our HPFF April Fool's celebration. Please e-mail me at [email address] for instructions on how to claim your prize.

LogicalRaven

HPFF Staff

I couldn't believe it! I'd had a rather terrible day at school (after all, it was Friday, and I'm sure you know how terrible those can be!) but after receiving this, I was grinning from ear to ear for probably the first time that week. My brother surely would have found it extremely odd if he hadn't been immersed in some television program.

I informed my mother just as soon as she came home, and she was ecstatic for me as well.

My prize is to be sent to me very soon, and it is a "two of a kind HPFF anniversary journal." I've no idea what it will look like, but I'm going to post a picture, I think, just as soon as it is delivered!

By the way... The spoof of HPFF can be found here.

Comedy Central and Unveiled Thoughts

It's strange, this whole blogging business. I was just sitting here, watching Comedy Central, when I began browsing one of my most adored websites in the world, HPFF, and I notice that the beloved staffers have started a weblog. And of course, after I read it, I couldn't help but want one of my own. I've wanted one for ages, you see. So I decided that I'd get one tonight. I mean, after all, who's going to read this? I can post whatever I like.

The only trouble with this is that I am currently in possession of my father's computer, and the spacebar is just as good as broken. So what I've got to do is pause between each word and press down extra hard on the center of said key. Quite a bother, but worth it, I think. After all, it's better than nothing, right?

So here I am.

Slowly and steadily, I shall unveil my thoughts to you—whoever you are that has happened to stumble across this—and myself. Myself most especially, as I am the one that needs to realize them most of all.

Welcome to the puzzle pieces of my life. ♥