Huge thank you post is huge - not kidding
Jul. 7th, 2010 11:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nursedarryHello, as you can see, I've made it back safe and sound and then promptly got sick. I blame Justin Bieber and Draco's cock, but I don't think anyone is going to believe that...
It only takes a couple of drunk and desperate fangirls to come up with what sounds like a good idea, but it takes a whole load of sober and talented fen to pull it off. I would like to say a huge thank you to all of the people who attended Crucio 2010 either in person or in spirit who helped to make it the success it was!
So, without further ado, thank you to:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
accioscar, alovelycupoftea, annephoenix, arineat, aurora_sky, being_here, citrus_lime, chthonya, cleo_jay, croatoan6000, daiseechain, delorispea, delphipsmith, dora_the_nymph, dorotea, dripping_cherry, dysonrules, elequent_toast, enchanted_jae, girlofavalon, groolover, hereticalvision, joan_waterhouse, jtsbbsps_dk, katelinmr, kabal42, kennahijja, lady_of_clunn, lazy_neutrino, littleenglolita, lkaet, leochi, lolafalola, lokifan, lotuslizzy, luciusmistress, melusinahp, moonlitdark, morettaallstar, okydoky, phoenixacid, phoenix_on_ice, r_grayjoy, reira_21, robs55, scabbyfish, scarletladyy, seraphimerising, sesheta_66, snarky_scorp, softly_sweetly, sonofdarkness, sra_danvers, thilia, treacle_tartlet, utteramusement, ville_sweet_666, vix_spes, wickedblonde, wwmrsweasleydo and anyone else I've probably forgotten in this cold-medicated state. Please tell me if I've left you off and I shall amend this list and iron my ears, post haste.
I'd also like to say a special thanks todorotea for my lovely VK (with a leetle hint of VK/HP) drabble! And a huge thank you to delorispea whom I'm going to kill if she doesn't write more of the AS/S WITH YOUNG TOM fic which I got!!!
And wo-ho, thanks to the tattoo-designing-tasticthilia, I got this!!! *dances around coughing*
Speaking of gifts, I've been blessed with two absolutely wonderful![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hd_smoochfest pressies: How fantastic was it to find out that the lovely joan_waterhouse wrote my giftfic Friendly Fire??? And how wonderful was it that she told me in person before the reveals so I could hug her and fangirl her? Another huge thank-you goes to the brilliant artist citrus_lime for Got Ya!, in which she managed to draw in loads of my kinks without even knowing she was doing it! Thank you!
I wrote three drabbles for the meet-up, none of them H/D - shock horror. I even wrote one in two different languages (poorly) and then enlisted help for proofing and the the translation into the third. Anyway, here they are: Madam Hooch for the lovelyjoan_waterhouse, the Twins for the talented moonlitdark, and Marcus for the bonita sra_danvers. There's no warnings, as they're mostly gen, although they all got a little introspective rather than silly, and that's so not like me.
The Queen of Quidditch
It truly was the Beautiful Game.
She knew the Muggles said the same of football, and she had watched a match or two, when she’d fancied that Brazilian player who wowed the pundits back in the 60s. Football was full of contact and excitement, but it was hardly beautiful in her eyes.
Beautiful was the sound of a cape flapping in the wind; beautiful were the warning shouts of her Beaters as they whizzed around her, keeping her trio safe. Beautiful was the sight of her opponent’s poorly-defended goal or her teammate’s hand clutched around the smallest prize.
Even the King of Football —indeed beautiful, with his black skin and green and yellow jersey — couldn’t compare to the feelings she had for the towering cathedrals she called home.
It was hard to adjust those first ten years: everything on a smaller scale, her charges with clumsy fingers and unrealistic expectations. But occasionally, someone shone, and she did her best to foster the gift.
And if luck and timing were on their side, sometimes they were called. She’d remember the student fondly to the press, of course. But neither did she forget the others; the concussions, the cracked ribs, the broken wrists who would go on to pursue more earth-bound vocations.
She barely watched events unfold around her, seemingly trivial in the time she’d been alive. When she played, the world was a bigger place.
Later, she heard whispers at the table, warnings and reassurances, but paid them no heed. Her attention was focussed on technique and training, not portents or rumour; when she looked at the sky, she thought of nothing but the weather.
One by one her protégés left, the classes dwindled. She knew those who left would never return, for what could she give them that could rival war?
In due course, the bigger game came to her. And she laughed at the motives and cried at the waste. She knew of better battles — those with casualties but without the dogma.
It had happened before and she would wait once more. Wait until they came to tell her that the game was again sacrosanct. That there’d still be fighting, but this time with standards of strips or national flags. They’d insist this was more civilised.
But she knew that already.
End
Sorted
The hat was placed upon the ginger head.
Ahhh...another one, how marvellous. What’s it been, six years? Always up for a bit of sport, is your lot. Now, let’s see...where to put you? Oh my, you are a mischievous soul, aren’t you? A lion, if I ever saw one. But smart...when you want to be, look after yourself, you do. Might you be an eagle? Could be, could be... Or a snake, perhaps? Definitely a possibility. Have a fondness for the japery, do you? See the funny side in everything? That’s a badger trait, my friend.
You’re a bit of everything, aren’t you? I think you’d do well most anywhere.
But...you’re incomplete, unfinished. You thrive in company; alone you’re not whole. Interesting —never alone. Must consider that, yes.
Hmmm.... An eagle needs its space. And a snake? Suspicious of a partnership, I should think. You have a badger’s loyalty, ‘tis true, but the bond you share is deeper even than that.
You need your family, your pride.
Better be GRYFFINDOR!
The large lumpy hat was removed from the ginger head. One hand slapped another as its owner left the platform and the other one ascended.
The hat was placed upon the ginger head.
Ah, yes, I see now. Indeed, you are the same.
Almost.
So, I’ll say this just to you, second Weasley: Be together, but separate, be frivolous, but tempered.
Be a partner, be a friend, be a brother...
And be strong.
GRYFFINDOR!
End
Great Expectations
Proofed and translated into Spanish and Catalan by my lovely sister
He was good at being a bully, but that didn’t pay the bills. He was better at Quidditch and that did. So he put away the attitude and became a team player.
How he’d hated that term back in school. There was loyalty to one’s House and family and marginal friendships, based mostly on mutual gratification. But there was no real sense of team. Not until he realised, that too, could be used as a tool.
His new improved self, helped along by the skills of a professional publicist, looked better, ate better, slept better, played better. Sure, sometimes it was boring and most of the time it was hard bloody work, but there were moments that made it all worth it.
“Marcus! Over here!” the paparazzi would shout, and he’d give them a dashing smile. Whenever he heard his name spoken in reverence, or awe, or with desire, he knew he’d made the right choice.
It was a hard thing to rail against the wishes of a father, a housemate, and his own destiny, but in the end it had been worth it. The game never lied to him. Watch the players, learn who’s the best, then emulate them until you’ve achieved the same. Words to live by.
What was true back in school was still true today. Any unpopular twelve-year-old could tell you that.
~*~
Le iba bien ser un matón, pero eso no pagaba las facturas. Le iba mejor jugando al Quidditch, y eso sí que las pagaba. Así que dejó su actitud y decidió trabajar en equipo.
Cómo había odiado esa expresión en la escuela. Debía lealtad a la Casa y la familia y las amistades marginales, basada principalmente en la gratificación mutua. Pero no había ningún sentido auténtico de equipo. No hasta que se dio cuenta de que eso también se podría usar como herramienta.
Su nueva y mejorada versión, ayudada por las habilidades de un publicista profesional, tenía mejor aspecto, comía mejor, dormía mejor, jugaba mejor. Claro que a veces era aburrido y normalmente era un trabajo muy duro, pero había momentos que hacían que todo valiera la pena.
“¡Marcus! ¡Aquí, aquí!” gritaban los paparazzi, y les daba una sonrisa gallarda. Cuando oía su nombre pronunciado con reverencia, o respeto, o con deseo, sabía que había tomado la decisión correcta.
Había sido difícil ir en contra de los deseos de un padre, un compañero de casa, y su propio destino, pero al final había valido la pena. El juego nunca le mentía. Mirar a los jugadores, aprender quiénes son los mejores, para entonces emularlos hasta conseguir lo mismo. Palabras a seguir.
Lo que era verdad en la escuela todavía lo era hoy. Cualquier niño impopular de doce años te lo podría decir.
~*~
Li anava bé ser un pinxo, però això no pagava les factures. Li anava millor jugant al Quidditch, i això si que les pagava. Així que va deixar la seva actitud i va decidir treballar en equip.
Com havia odiat aquesta expressió a l'escola. Devia lleialtat a la Casa i la família i les amistats marginals, basada principalment en la gratificació mútua. Però no havia cap sentit autèntic d'equip. No fins que es va adonar que això també es podria utilitzar com a eina.
La seva nova i millorada versió, ajudada per les habilitats d'un publicista professional, tenia millor aspecte, menjava millor, dormia millor, jugava millor. Clar que de vegades era avorrit i normalment era un treball molt dur, però havia moments que feien que tot valgués la pena.
“Marcus! Aquí, aquí!” cridaven els paparazzi, i els donava un somriure gallard. Quan escoltava el seu nom pronunciat amb reverència, o respecte, o amb desig, sabia que havia pres la decisió correcta.
Havia estat difícil anar en contra dels desitjos d'un pare, un company de casa, i el seu propi destí, però al final havia valgut la pena. El joc mai li mentia. Mirar als jugadors, aprendre qui són els millors, per llavors emular-los fins aconseguir el mateix. Paraules a seguir.
El que era veritat en l'escola encara ho era avui. Qualsevol nen impopular de dotze anys t'ho podria dir.
Fin
One last interesting point to the whole weekend was my flight back to London. The cockpit and cabin crew were made up of one woman and five blokes. You'll never guess what the woman was doing...*nods* yup, flying the plane! Right on!
EDT: THANK YOU so much for the lovely flowers -croatoan6000, cleo_jay, softly_sweetly, and wwmrsweasleydo!!!!
Of course, I can't finish this post without thanking the one person, without whom fandom, meet-ups, fests, and everything else in the world would be completely meaningless.
I love you tonnes,Dan cassie_black12!
We hope to see everyone (and more) for Engorgio 2011 in Cardiff. When we can sort it out:D
It only takes a couple of drunk and desperate fangirls to come up with what sounds like a good idea, but it takes a whole load of sober and talented fen to pull it off. I would like to say a huge thank you to all of the people who attended Crucio 2010 either in person or in spirit who helped to make it the success it was!
So, without further ado, thank you to:
accioscar, alovelycupoftea, annephoenix, arineat, aurora_sky, being_here, citrus_lime, chthonya, cleo_jay, croatoan6000, daiseechain, delorispea, delphipsmith, dora_the_nymph, dorotea, dripping_cherry, dysonrules, elequent_toast, enchanted_jae, girlofavalon, groolover, hereticalvision, joan_waterhouse, jtsbbsps_dk, katelinmr, kabal42, kennahijja, lady_of_clunn, lazy_neutrino, littleenglolita, lkaet, leochi, lolafalola, lokifan, lotuslizzy, luciusmistress, melusinahp, moonlitdark, morettaallstar, okydoky, phoenixacid, phoenix_on_ice, r_grayjoy, reira_21, robs55, scabbyfish, scarletladyy, seraphimerising, sesheta_66, snarky_scorp, softly_sweetly, sonofdarkness, sra_danvers, thilia, treacle_tartlet, utteramusement, ville_sweet_666, vix_spes, wickedblonde, wwmrsweasleydo and anyone else I've probably forgotten in this cold-medicated state. Please tell me if I've left you off and I shall amend this list and iron my ears, post haste.I'd also like to say a special thanks to
dorotea for my lovely VK (with a leetle hint of VK/HP) drabble! And a huge thank you to delorispea whom I'm going to kill if she doesn't write more of the AS/S WITH YOUNG TOM fic which I got!!! And wo-ho, thanks to the tattoo-designing-tastic
thilia, I got this!!! *dances around coughing*Speaking of gifts, I've been blessed with two absolutely wonderful
hd_smoochfest pressies: How fantastic was it to find out that the lovely joan_waterhouse wrote my giftfic Friendly Fire??? And how wonderful was it that she told me citrus_lime for Got Ya!, in which she managed to draw in loads of my kinks without even knowing she was doing it! Thank you!I wrote three drabbles for the meet-up, none of them H/D - shock horror. I even wrote one in two different languages (poorly) and then enlisted help for proofing and the the translation into the third. Anyway, here they are: Madam Hooch for the lovely
joan_waterhouse, the Twins for the talented moonlitdark, and Marcus for the bonita sra_danvers. There's no warnings, as they're mostly gen, although they all got a little introspective rather than silly, and that's so not like me.It truly was the Beautiful Game.
She knew the Muggles said the same of football, and she had watched a match or two, when she’d fancied that Brazilian player who wowed the pundits back in the 60s. Football was full of contact and excitement, but it was hardly beautiful in her eyes.
Beautiful was the sound of a cape flapping in the wind; beautiful were the warning shouts of her Beaters as they whizzed around her, keeping her trio safe. Beautiful was the sight of her opponent’s poorly-defended goal or her teammate’s hand clutched around the smallest prize.
Even the King of Football —indeed beautiful, with his black skin and green and yellow jersey — couldn’t compare to the feelings she had for the towering cathedrals she called home.
It was hard to adjust those first ten years: everything on a smaller scale, her charges with clumsy fingers and unrealistic expectations. But occasionally, someone shone, and she did her best to foster the gift.
And if luck and timing were on their side, sometimes they were called. She’d remember the student fondly to the press, of course. But neither did she forget the others; the concussions, the cracked ribs, the broken wrists who would go on to pursue more earth-bound vocations.
She barely watched events unfold around her, seemingly trivial in the time she’d been alive. When she played, the world was a bigger place.
Later, she heard whispers at the table, warnings and reassurances, but paid them no heed. Her attention was focussed on technique and training, not portents or rumour; when she looked at the sky, she thought of nothing but the weather.
One by one her protégés left, the classes dwindled. She knew those who left would never return, for what could she give them that could rival war?
In due course, the bigger game came to her. And she laughed at the motives and cried at the waste. She knew of better battles — those with casualties but without the dogma.
It had happened before and she would wait once more. Wait until they came to tell her that the game was again sacrosanct. That there’d still be fighting, but this time with standards of strips or national flags. They’d insist this was more civilised.
But she knew that already.
End
The hat was placed upon the ginger head.
Ahhh...another one, how marvellous. What’s it been, six years? Always up for a bit of sport, is your lot. Now, let’s see...where to put you? Oh my, you are a mischievous soul, aren’t you? A lion, if I ever saw one. But smart...when you want to be, look after yourself, you do. Might you be an eagle? Could be, could be... Or a snake, perhaps? Definitely a possibility. Have a fondness for the japery, do you? See the funny side in everything? That’s a badger trait, my friend.
You’re a bit of everything, aren’t you? I think you’d do well most anywhere.
But...you’re incomplete, unfinished. You thrive in company; alone you’re not whole. Interesting —never alone. Must consider that, yes.
Hmmm.... An eagle needs its space. And a snake? Suspicious of a partnership, I should think. You have a badger’s loyalty, ‘tis true, but the bond you share is deeper even than that.
You need your family, your pride.
Better be GRYFFINDOR!
The large lumpy hat was removed from the ginger head. One hand slapped another as its owner left the platform and the other one ascended.
The hat was placed upon the ginger head.
Ah, yes, I see now. Indeed, you are the same.
Almost.
So, I’ll say this just to you, second Weasley: Be together, but separate, be frivolous, but tempered.
Be a partner, be a friend, be a brother...
And be strong.
GRYFFINDOR!
End
Proofed and translated into Spanish and Catalan by my lovely sister
He was good at being a bully, but that didn’t pay the bills. He was better at Quidditch and that did. So he put away the attitude and became a team player.
How he’d hated that term back in school. There was loyalty to one’s House and family and marginal friendships, based mostly on mutual gratification. But there was no real sense of team. Not until he realised, that too, could be used as a tool.
His new improved self, helped along by the skills of a professional publicist, looked better, ate better, slept better, played better. Sure, sometimes it was boring and most of the time it was hard bloody work, but there were moments that made it all worth it.
“Marcus! Over here!” the paparazzi would shout, and he’d give them a dashing smile. Whenever he heard his name spoken in reverence, or awe, or with desire, he knew he’d made the right choice.
It was a hard thing to rail against the wishes of a father, a housemate, and his own destiny, but in the end it had been worth it. The game never lied to him. Watch the players, learn who’s the best, then emulate them until you’ve achieved the same. Words to live by.
What was true back in school was still true today. Any unpopular twelve-year-old could tell you that.
~*~
Le iba bien ser un matón, pero eso no pagaba las facturas. Le iba mejor jugando al Quidditch, y eso sí que las pagaba. Así que dejó su actitud y decidió trabajar en equipo.
Cómo había odiado esa expresión en la escuela. Debía lealtad a la Casa y la familia y las amistades marginales, basada principalmente en la gratificación mutua. Pero no había ningún sentido auténtico de equipo. No hasta que se dio cuenta de que eso también se podría usar como herramienta.
Su nueva y mejorada versión, ayudada por las habilidades de un publicista profesional, tenía mejor aspecto, comía mejor, dormía mejor, jugaba mejor. Claro que a veces era aburrido y normalmente era un trabajo muy duro, pero había momentos que hacían que todo valiera la pena.
“¡Marcus! ¡Aquí, aquí!” gritaban los paparazzi, y les daba una sonrisa gallarda. Cuando oía su nombre pronunciado con reverencia, o respeto, o con deseo, sabía que había tomado la decisión correcta.
Había sido difícil ir en contra de los deseos de un padre, un compañero de casa, y su propio destino, pero al final había valido la pena. El juego nunca le mentía. Mirar a los jugadores, aprender quiénes son los mejores, para entonces emularlos hasta conseguir lo mismo. Palabras a seguir.
Lo que era verdad en la escuela todavía lo era hoy. Cualquier niño impopular de doce años te lo podría decir.
~*~
Li anava bé ser un pinxo, però això no pagava les factures. Li anava millor jugant al Quidditch, i això si que les pagava. Així que va deixar la seva actitud i va decidir treballar en equip.
Com havia odiat aquesta expressió a l'escola. Devia lleialtat a la Casa i la família i les amistats marginals, basada principalment en la gratificació mútua. Però no havia cap sentit autèntic d'equip. No fins que es va adonar que això també es podria utilitzar com a eina.
La seva nova i millorada versió, ajudada per les habilitats d'un publicista professional, tenia millor aspecte, menjava millor, dormia millor, jugava millor. Clar que de vegades era avorrit i normalment era un treball molt dur, però havia moments que feien que tot valgués la pena.
“Marcus! Aquí, aquí!” cridaven els paparazzi, i els donava un somriure gallard. Quan escoltava el seu nom pronunciat amb reverència, o respecte, o amb desig, sabia que havia pres la decisió correcta.
Havia estat difícil anar en contra dels desitjos d'un pare, un company de casa, i el seu propi destí, però al final havia valgut la pena. El joc mai li mentia. Mirar als jugadors, aprendre qui són els millors, per llavors emular-los fins aconseguir el mateix. Paraules a seguir.
El que era veritat en l'escola encara ho era avui. Qualsevol nen impopular de dotze anys t'ho podria dir.
Fin
One last interesting point to the whole weekend was my flight back to London. The cockpit and cabin crew were made up of one woman and five blokes. You'll never guess what the woman was doing...*nods* yup, flying the plane! Right on!
EDT: THANK YOU so much for the lovely flowers -
croatoan6000, cleo_jay, softly_sweetly, and wwmrsweasleydo!!!!Of course, I can't finish this post without thanking the one person, without whom fandom, meet-ups, fests, and everything else in the world would be completely meaningless.
I love you tonnes,
cassie_black12!We hope to see everyone (and more) for Engorgio 2011 in Cardiff. When we can sort it out:D
