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nerianasims · 4 years ago

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Billboard #1s 1984

Under the cut.

Yes -- "Owner of a Lonely Heart" -- January 21, 1984

The full version of this song is way too long. Not surprising from a former prog rock band. The music is good and interesting, but it loses me before the end even in the shorter single version. There's too much stuff. As for the lyrics, maybe that prog rock gloss made people think they were profound, but they look like self-help. Some incredibly 80s Reagan-era individualism, better to be alone than to be hurt, you're the only one you can count on, blah blah blah. Not for me. 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

Culture Club -- "Karma Chameleon" -- February 4, 1984

The video to this song has nothing to do with it, unless there's supposed to be a connection between the con artist on the fantasy world 19th century steamboat and the guy who keeps coming and going whom Boy George is singing to. And I didn't fully realize the "you come and go" double entendre until just now. I like the video, anyway. And I like the song quite a bit. It's a very cheerful-sounding song about being strung along by some asshole.

Van Halen -- "Jump" -- February 25, 1984

Van Halen was something boys were into. It's weird how we delineate these things. At least back in 1984, if it got coded as a boy thing, then if you were a girl and also found it interesting, you'd damn well better hide it or certain other more socially powerful kids would tear you to shreds. That was my experience, anyway. (And if other girls were into it and you were not, you were also in serious trouble.) So though when I heard Van Halen songs I thought, "hm, I'm intrigued," I did not dare pursue that interest. Except for this song. This one was allowed. It's fun.

Kenny Loggins -- "Footloose" -- March 31, 1984

Footloose is a pretty good movie. At least I remember it being so when I eventually saw it in college in the 90s. Anything that stands against censorship, and for art and people having fun, already has an in with me. Also Kevin Bacon's great. The song isn't about the movie particularly; it's just about how dancing is wonderful. Though there is a hint at the movie: "You're playing so cool/ Obeying every rule/ Deep way down in your heart/ You're burning yearning for some/ Somebody to tell you/ That life ain't passing you by/ I'm trying to tell you/ It will if you don't even try." Yeah. Agatha Christie at one point lamented that young people in the 1950s were far too serious and self-righteous, and really needed to go dance in fountains. I feel the same now as she did then. Though wait until after the covid vaccine's been widely taken. Anyway, this is a good dance song.

Phil Collins -- "Against All Odds (Take A Look At Me Now)" -- April 21, 1984

It's a lament about being dumped. Apparently, Collins wrote it about his wife leaving him out of the blue, taking the kids and the dog with her. Ouch. There's a great drum part, which keeps the song from being too boring, but I still don't like it. Phil Collins' serious love/heartbreak songs don't do it for me. I find this one depressing without being cathartic.

Lionel Richie -- "Hello" -- May 12, 1984

I remember this video from when it was on the air. Mostly because of the Lionel Richie clay head. But also because I was like... is she his student? Isn't that a bad thing? Even though she's an adult in college, I still thought you weren't supposed to do that? I've had a major squick against teacher/student relationships, even in fiction, since I was a kid. Possibly this is because I come from a family of professors. (I didn't get a PhD and am therefore the black sheep.) Without reference to the video, the song is terrible. The lyrics are just repetitive cheese, whatever, but the song is so slow and blah and I don't like Lionel Richie's singing.

Deniece Williams -- "Let's Hear It For the Boy" -- May 26, 1984

I keep being surprised that there are people who think someone is worthless if they don't have a lot of money and don't dress fashionably. In this song, the titular boy also can't dance, but is that a thing that people get dinged for in reality? I don't know, maybe. This song was in Footloose, and it's the same sentiment as "My Guy"; her boy isn't some smooth-talking rich brat, but "he's my lovin' one-man show." He's like Edward Ferrars, not Willoughby. It's a fun song.

Cyndi Lauper -- "Time After Time" -- June 9, 1984

This is one of the greatest songs ever. Not just pop songs. Any song, of any type.

Duran Duran -- "The Reflex" -- June 23, 1984

These lyrics make no sense. That doesn't matter for this song much, which is all about the music. Which is not the best of Duran Duran's music. For all the many, many, MANY different musical ideas in it, it's actually kinda boring. They'd have done better to simplify. I imagine this sounds something like cocaine feels, though drinking way too many Mountain Dews to pull an all-nighter's my only comparison. Duran Duran were never my favorite, but I do enjoy many of their songs. This one, meh.

Prince -- "When Doves Cry" -- July 7, 1984

Prince only two songs after Cyndi Lauper? Is it my birthday? The song's lyrics start out being about the amazing chemistry between the narrator and "you." That establishes why they're together. Then Prince moves on to how they "scream at each other," and it's what it sounds like "when doves cry." He's accusatory -- "How could you just leave me standing/ Alone in a world so cold?" But then he goes right into thinking maybe it's his fault: "Maybe I'm just too demanding" etc. It's a sexy, thoughtful, and anguished song about a relationship in trouble. I like to think they'll overcome their problems and stop screaming at each other. Trust me, it's very possible. Also the music is great.

Ray Parker Jr. -- "Ghostbusters" -- August 11, 1984

Um. I have no idea how to evaluate this one. I heard it first in the theatre when I saw the movie, but I heard it years after every week when I watched the cartoon. It just... is.

Tina Turner -- "What's Love Got To Do With It" -- September 1, 1984

I have an overwhelming memory of hearing this song when I was alone in the grocery store as a teenager. I have no idea why the memory's so strong. Maybe it was the first time I went to the grocery store by myself? Maybe I ran into a guy I had a huge crush on, though I don't remember that? (If I was 16, that could have been one of any three guys... Romance is my secondary aspiration, after all.) In any case, it's a good song. The attempt to pretend love is a bunch of chemicals and doesn't truly matter is a pretty common one for the broken-hearted. And Tina Turner's great as always.

John Waite -- "Missing You" -- September 22, 1984

Two songs in a row about being in denial over matters of love. Interesting. This isn't the most fascinating song ever, but it's a good solid song about heartbreak that isn't gloopy at all. In the main vocals, Waite keeps insisting "I ain't missing you," but in the background is a soft voice that sings "missing you" over and over. That's a smart artistic move.

Prince and the Revolution -- "Let's Go Crazy" -- September 29, 1984

I liked a lot of pop music when I was 7, but I didn't get Prince. His songs sort of slid out of my brain as a "thing for grownups," and who could understand grownups? He was short and wore fancy outfits, and that's about all that registered. When I hit puberty, though... yeah. This song is more adult than that, though, and I don't mean sexually, though there is plenty of sex in this song. "You better live now/ Before the grim reaper come knocking on your door." The song is about sex, partying, and death. Also Prince was an astonishing guitarist, along with everything else. It's not one of my favorite Prince songs, because the lyrics are pretty depressing and it's super loud, but it's still great.

Stevie Wonder -- "I Just Called To Say I Love You" -- October 13, 1984

I never really listened to the background beep-de-boops in this song before. I've wondered before why this song, with its simple lyrics and melody, didn't bore me. It's the beep-de-boops. They, along with Stevie Wonder's perfect delivery, make this song musically complex. And the simple lyrics, with the more complex musical counterpoints, absolutely work. It helps that this is the kind of thing people really do.

Billy Ocean -- "Caribbean Queen" -- November 3, 1984

That heavy breathing after the line "I get so excited just from her perfume" is unfortunate. Otherwise, it's a song about how he met this "Caribbean Queen" on vacation and she "tamed" him so he's no longer looking for "love on the run." Sure, why not. I'd like a little more story to it, but that's me. It's got a good beat though, and is enjoyable enough as-is.

Wham! -- "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" -- November 17, 1984

I just realized I don't like this song. The beat and hook are sort of irresistible, and as a dance song the music absolutely works. But there's too much nostalgia about stuff that George Michael actually wasn't old enough to be nostalgic about. He was only 21 at the time, born in 1963, and yet he was singing about Doris Day. You can homage anything at any age, but... meh. And speaking of age, it's kind of a childish song and George Michael's voice was always more on the mature end, even if he was young at the time. For me, it hits a jarring note.

Daryl Hall & John Oates -- "Out of Touch" -- December 8, 1984

The beginning makes it sound like this is gonna be a relatively hard rock song, but that ends after a pretty short time. It's still really loud, with huge drums, and Hall pretty much shouts the song. Hall & Oates were great when they stripped stuff down. All this noise doesn't work for them. There are neat parts when all the noise suddenly stops and there's total silence, but then it goes right back to the rather uninteresting loudness. Not for me.

Madonna -- "Like A Virgin" -- December 22, 1984

And so it begins. Backstory: Madonna went to the same high school as my mother. She was friends (maybe more? he won't talk) with one of my uncles. When my grandmother saw the Like A Virgin album on the rack at the store, she said, "I'm so glad [he] didn't marry that girl." When my mother told me that, my reaction was "Are you kidding? We'd be rich!" But my family cares about PhDs and not money. My uncle ran wild in high school, but eventually became a successful career diplomat (and stopped being a jackass) after the woman he was in love with told him he'd better shape up or else. Also he looks a lot like Guy Ritchie, so that was weird for a while. I'd be in the grocery store and for a second think, "Why's my uncle on The Enquirer with Madonna?"

So anyway, the song. The way Madonna sang it in later iterations, I like it. I can't stand the version that became a #1 hit. The Betty Boop voice is just ugh. I love a lot of Madonna's music, and she would be something of an inspiration to me in later days, with her unapologetic persona as a woman who liked and wanted sex -- and enjoyed shocking the censorious -- but I was 8 at the time. I didn't get any of it, I just knew she sounded squeaky in this song and it bugged me.

BEST OF 1984: "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper. WORST OF 1984: "Hello" by Lionel Richie

#billboard number ones

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azeymas-ballad · 4 years ago

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The Gang’s All Here!!

I’ve always enjoyed making characters and playing the story through their unique points of view; keeps the replay value goin’, y’know? Got a wild idea to slap ‘em together in a glorious mess of… this! So I did!

This was also a really nice project to get my brain off the World At Large and my constant eternal blisteringly hot frustration with representation in viddy games. It’s nice to see so much melanin in one place. :3

So, uh. From left to right, starting in the back!

~Back Row~ Theogaud Ormesang: Tired. So tired. Studies arcanima, with focus on summoning and arcane geometries. Plays a wicked mandolin. Bitter Gale: Talks softly and carries a big axe. Matron of the Ahke Louise, a massive flying ship/sanctuary for victims of trafficking and slave trade. Incredible singing voice. Y’aja Adanna: Retired Warrior of Light adventurer, always working with her hands. Proprietor of Sew it Seams, a tailor shop that specializes in low-cost outfits for new adventurers. Nanachi Nachi: A wanderer, a friend. Her heart aches but she doesn’t know why. A music box dancer turning to a song she cannot sing.

~Middle Row~

Scorching Jade: Magical Girl with some anger issues. From a parallel Eorzea; learning about this Same But Different world as she figures out how to get back to her team who are also scattered across time and space (and Data Centers) She doesn’t need to know that last bit. Y’dorha Tia: The original Good Boye. Very cute, and Knows It. Absolutely never uses this to his advantage. Always uses this to his advantage. Gierny Byrde: Garlean, former Imperial soldier; severely injured at Specula Imperatoris. Used the chaos (and being captured by the Eorzean Alliance) to defect, now buries herself in biomechanical engineer studies so she can make herself some RAD prostheses. Hester Haywood: Adopted and raised by a single mother in rural La Noscea. Studying medicine - not healing, medicine - and doing some really reprehensible shit on the side to pay her way through school.

~’Front’ Row~ Wind-up Y’aja: Created to lighten the load taken up by the Original Y’aja. Runs errands, makes deliveries, etc. while Y’aja Actual handles things at home. Quietly learning about the world, grows more fascinated as the days pass. F’ezah Baveh: Serotonin Machine, chocobo handler. Not a local. Found a neat book and definitely isn’t learning how to set things on fire because of it. Dedega Dega: Gremblin. Conjuror-turned-Warguy. They KNOW where you hid the chocolate chocobo biscuits and they WILL claim the whole jar as their own. Tatayadi Seseyadi: Ten gallons of emotion in a one-gallon bucket. Owns a small jewelry shop un Ul’dah. Formidable storm mage, used to guide smuggler ships through bad weather. Does not do that anymore. Magpie T’eal: Hopeless romantic in love with all things. Lives life to its most beautiful while attempting to help others do so as well - if only for a moment.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #elezen #duskwight #miqo'te #seeker of the sun #keeper of the moon #roegadyn #lalafell #au ra #highlander hyur #viera #lots of words under the cut #tags for days #nachi's shit is nebulous and vague by design she'e a mess i love her #graphic design is my passion #half the black population of eorzea is pictured hereh

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erudite-rebel · 4 years ago

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i gasped when i saw your magnus archives au because i'm a huge fan and your artwork on head archivist ooblek is so incredible. do you have any stray headcanons on it, or maybe how grimm translate to entities, or anything really because i'm so fascinated with this concept.

//You got a big storm comin'

Soooo TMA AU was basically caused by @nightmarebcrn and @jinxedcrow getting me into The Magnus Archives and the subsequent chaos thereafter. Barty was actually built slowly after I began season 3 I think (but it may have been season 2 or even earlier. I remember not realizing just how bad I was setting him up for pain). I'm gonna give a write up with as few show-spoilers as possible beyond the basic concept (Entities) and I will chew on the Grimm bc I didn't quite work on them when I developed this but now that you said it that brain's a-firin' away.

So!

The Archivist of Beacon AKA Why Barty Can't Have Nice Things

While I have written a statement on Barty's past, I'll do a quick write up of his history and who he is as the Archivist.

With all of my iterations of Barty, he is neurodivergent. He has Aspergers (low-spectrum Autism) and ADHD. This presents primarily in hyperfocus, being less than adept at social situations, a tendency to shy away from direct eye contact, and stimming (bouncing his leg, jittery movements, counting in dead languages).

Different to his canon verse, Barty is an only child and his parents were of equal age.

His first contact with the entities was when he was a young boy. He was raised primarily running around a now closed, privately run museum that operated near Oxford University. While no doubt several of the items within have made their way into the Beacon Artifact Storage, at the time he was aware of nothing specifically evil. A new lot acquisition included an unusual set of canopic jars that were written off by several scientists as very good fakes. Despite that, one of the employees – Dr. Herbert Renshaw – became obsessed with them and succumbed to their lure. He killed four people by removing critical organs and permanently disfigured a fifth before disappearing with them. While Barty witnessed the attack which killed his parents, and saw what it entailed, he repressed much of it for most of his life. Working at Beacon brought most of it back.

After his parents died he was looked after by his grandfather, who was a strict and no-nonsense veteran of the second World War. The arrangement lasted only two years before he died of cancer and Barty was released into the foster system, inheritance waiting for him when he turned 18.

Shuttled through foster homes, Barty became something of a punk. He had a big chip on his shoulder, was lonely and desperate for a place to fit in when there were so few that could address his needs. Finally he was sent somewhere with a reputation for 'curing' delinquency. Without knowing it he entered a residence under control of the Web.

Qrow Branwen was in his year in high school. While he and Barty didn't at once know each other, as they were both rather withdrawn and loners, they eventually grew close because of similar interests and attitudes. After a few months Qrow spotted a tell-tale scar on the back of Barty's neck. He'd escaped the same boys home the year before in a bid to be placed elsewhere with his twin. Suddenly frightened for Barty's life, he hatched a plan to help Barty escape. Because Barty was far more under the influence of the Web than Qrow had been it had turned into a rescue mission than a run away. The two of them burned the home to the ground and somehow managed to evade implication.

Barty went to stay with Qrow and Raven with their foster mother, Morrigan Branwen. She was careful to help with his needs, and Barty loved her like a mother, though he never considered Raven or Qrow his siblings. In Qrow he'd developed a bad crush that quickly turned into a deep, devoted love. While Barty wasn't much given to the concept of soulmates, he considered Qrow exactly that.

He and Qrow both were accepted into University and he'd thought they would always be together. Eventually though Qrow began to fade away from him, consumed by something else, and dropped out of University. He cut off contact and disappeared. Barty didn't see him again until Morrigan's funeral and never got any explanation for what happened.

Years later Barty obtained both his doctorate in history and a degree in archaeology. His interests were always skewed to the occult, though something always kept him back from pursuing the real deal of the supernatural. He was looking forward to a life of academia, though something always felt empty to him. Sometimes he'd see a familiar face in a crowd and his neck would itch before they disappeared. He never really gave up the torch he carried for Qrow either, despite trying to move on.

After a talk he gave on a lesser known cult during the height of the Egyptian empire, Dr. Ozpin Newman approached him about a job as Head Archivist in Beacon Academy. He might not have accepted the position if he had already been tenured, but Barty had a shaky research position at the University of London, and Ozpin was offering a good contract. Despite knowing Beacon's reputation he agreed... no one could deny the credentials of a Head Archivist of a major academic institute, even one with ties to potential supernatural research.

It was there he is reunited with Qrow again and settled into his job, hardly questioning why Ozpin might want him... why he made such an excellent candidate for Archivist. He was determined to set the archives right after Maria Calavera's treatment of them, set on making a difference, trying hard to hold onto the belief that encounters – despite having been involved in two such events on his own – were rare.

Fear has a way of catching up, has a way of mutating you, as he was ensnared by The Eye, and caught up in a careful game of chess between Avatars. Guilt is acid in his veins as he loses his employees one by one to different entities. Scars began to pile. Secrets began to be revealed, whether the information merely curled out towards him, or a few careful worlds could force them from the lips of those he put question to.

Eventually he had to wonder if he was even really human anymore... when the voyeuristic statements of fear were far more nourishing to his body than food. But surely it's human to be willing to kill to protect Qrow and his people, to make the world right again?

So, that's kind of a basic write up. As for Grimm, I am currently toying with creatures that are far more horrifying than their base in RWBY. The Grimm are soulless manifestations of dangerous concentrations of fear given form, residual negative energies forming into mindless beasts able to be controlled and guided by their Avatars, provided that Avatar embraces its calling. Tools to reap yet more energy for the entities beyond the veil.

#recent history; headcanons #is anything really real anymore?; tma au #the archivist of beacon; tma #anything else you would like to inquire?; answered #becomestorm

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rosesforshego · 4 years ago

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𝓘𝓯 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓜𝔂 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓭, 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3: ᴍᴏɴꜱᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀʏʜᴇᴍ

“August 24th, 2002 8:00 pm.

Dinner with the Possibles was . . . surprisingly uneventful.

At least, in the way that Drew would define "uneventful" to be.”

Jim and Tim, the two who were deemed the most likely to launch their fork-fulls of lasagna at each other, dutifully ate their dinner in hopes to excuse themselves as soon as possible—presumably to scorch James' perfectly manicured lawn. Kim remained fairly quiet and interjected into the conversation when she felt it was necessary. Ron, who sat beside her, continuously shoveled heaping amounts of lasagna into his gullet while simultaneously slipping some under the table to feed his naked mole-rat. Rufus, an honored guest in the Possible house, was spoiled with his own, ceramic plate that Ron had made during his, albeit regrettable, summer at Camp Wannaweep, but remained under the table during family dinner. He didn't seem to mind. Rufus perched upon Ron's toes as if he were seated at the table with the rest of the family and only emerged from under the table cloth when he felt the need to join the conversation—just like Kim.

Per usual, the round-table discussion took a very boring turn for the children. Ann and James discussed their grueling workdays with Drew. James, who had been home all day, tirelessly worked on the newest, top-secret project that the Middleton Space Center had provided for him. When asked about said project, James responded with "It's a secret, but I can tell you one thing: it involves rockets", which prompted a well-deserved eye-roll from Drew, followed by a "No, duh"—a phrase that he had picked up from Kim, herself. She smiled. He was learning.

Ann, however, was not as lucky as her husband. She was forced into work by an emergency operation, which proved to be exhausting as the dark circles under her eyes shifted in the artificial lighting that illuminated the dining room.

When asked about the operation, Ann, with a sigh, responded with "Long". Drew's cheerful look softened into one of empathy. The one word told Drew what he needed to know, and it broke his heart.

"Brain surgery is not easy."

His lips tightened into a fine line. He never assumed that it was and he had always applauded Ann for her commitment to the profession. Nearly every operation, Ann played a delicate balancing act between life and death—a balance that toyed with the stranger that sat beneath her scalpel. On a good day, Ann, in all of her excitement, would give her friend a call and explain to him the intricate details of her latest, and greatest operation. Drew always anticipated those calls—not because he was fascinated by the process that Ann underwent with each procedure, but because it filled him with joy to hear his friend's voice full of exuberance: the product of an adrenaline high. But, when he failed to receive even a peep from Ann Possible, Drew understood. He could only imagine the stains that littered her steering wheel from the salty tears that stung her eyes.

"I-," Drew never knew what to say, so he let his words slip. He hoped that with his somber expression, Ann would understand that he held a deep sorrow within his heart for her.

"I'm sorry."

Eyes downcast onto her scarcely-touched plate of pasta, a soft smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"It's okay," her blue irises rose with a faint gleam that reflected the lamplight. Drew found his breath caught in his throat.

Ann was a strong woman—the strongest that Drew had ever known. To see her eyes reflect a sort of helplessness that he felt deep within his old soul nearly brought tears to his as their gaze locked from across the table. Quickly, Drew pulled away, afraid to lose himself within the deep regret that swam within her sapphire eyes, and turned towards James, who held the same worried expression as his own.

Thankfully, the children, who continued to devour their dinner, were none-the-wiser.

"Y'know," Ann's voice broke the thick silence that laid between them, "I'm just glad that I made it home in time, or else a certain someone would've had to cook."

The side of Drew's lip curled into a half-hearted grin. The last time James tried to cook, he nearly set the kitchen ablaze.

"So, you mean we'd be eating Chinese takeout?"

"You would be correct," James interjected as he tore his troubled gaze away from his wife and stabbed his mountain of sauce-covered pasta with his fork.

A light chuckle, shared between Ann and Drew, dissipated the heavy atmosphere that had befallen upon them. They both knew that dinner would be better off if James didn't don the apron.

Drew's elbows found themselves at home atop the tablecloth as his chin rested upon the back of his hands, "I thought Mama Possible taught her kids how to cook."

"She did," Ann smirked as she mirrored Drew's position, "Slim took all the talent."

Cheeks stuffed with ricotta, James returned to the conversation with a scowl of disapproval. Drew covered his mouth with his free hand in a poor attempt to stifle a laugh while a loud snort escaped Ann's throat, followed by cheeky grins that formed around the table from the children who found enjoyment in poking-fun at the adults in the conversation. It was one against six and James opted to remain silent on the matter. He knew better than to defend himself against the vicious mockery that filled his home with laughter.

Ann's playful snicker that rang within Drew's ears was effortlessly replaced with a jarring ruckus—its origin from the rocket that launched from the patch of scorched grass in front of him.

"See, Uncle Drew?"

"Isn't that so cool?"

Drew rested his arms upon his lap as he watched colorful sparks of hot electricity evaporate into the stillness of the warm, summer night. Fourteen years after the Ol' Faithful incident, he remained a prisoner to his astonishment that his two best friends had created three beautiful, and exceptionally intelligent, children.

They were going to change the world.

"Very," a brief commentary from Drew seemed to suffice. The biochemist was always at a loss for words.

Wide grins spread across the youthful cheeks of the twins as they continued with their project of mayhem. While Drew could never offer a meaningful conversation about rocket science to his two nephews, the twins seemed satisfied with his one-word answers and the look of bewilderment and awe that seized his features. If they wanted constructive criticism, Jim and Tim would have asked their father for assistance. Drew was simply a witness to their greatness.

The twins entered a discussion about intricate theories as to how they could improve the hunk of metal that they had just shot into the night sky. Drew could not understand a single word, the conversation littered with scientific terms and twin-language that were foreign to his cultured ears, yet he remained enthralled by their nuanced conversation.

"Uncle Drew?"

Kim's soft, candied voice shoved away Drew's daydreams. He turned to his left to see his niece close to his frame: her knees crossed; her mind deep in thought.

"What's high school like?"

A slight smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"If you're looking for a simple answer, Kimmie, you're not going to get one."

Her eyes, a piercing, verdant green, squinted as a deep frown rested upon the smooth elasticity of her skin. That was not what she wanted to hear.

"I figured," she retorted, though she had hoped otherwise.

Drew's smile dwindled as Kim's eager demeanor faltered at the utterance of his statement.

The day Drew laid his eyes upon little Kimberly Ann, he knew that he was absolutely smitten. She may not have been his own flesh-and-blood, but, from the moment she arrived home from the hospital, she had been like the daughter he had always wanted—bright and brilliant with an unquenchable thirst to understand life itself. But, as Drew learned, in this quest for answers, within the shadows lurked heartbreak, sorrow, and an immense amount of raw pain that was always ready to pounce upon their next, optimistic victim. Upon discovering his own answers, these horrendous monsters had burrowed their way into the core of Drew's being, filling his veins with a thick sludge of despair that silently spread throughout his body. This kind of pain, embedded in his very identity, could not be washed away with a simple, supportive gesture and, instead, required copious amounts of synthetic chemicals to keep his disorderly mind in check. So, as soon as little Kimmie entered this unforgiving world in the back of his Sedan, Drew made a silent promise to himself to forbid the demons of despondency, that patiently waited behind her rose-tinted glasses, to destroy her.

Drew slowly closed his eyes as the image of a tiny Kimberly faded beneath his eyelids. She was no longer a helpless child who hid from the menacing shadows that skulked across her bedroom wall. She was fourteen years old. Drew could no longer hold her little hand within the palm of his. He had to let her go because he knew that if he continued to coddle her, he would have committed a great injustice. As an uncle, and a Godfather, he continuously tightrope-walked the fine-line between protection and liberation—his guidance in Kim's life was necessary, there was no disputing that, but she had to learn how to make mistakes and part of Drew felt an intense pang of guilt over the way he had protected her all these years.

It was time for Kim to understand that the world will not abide by her rules. Yet, he knew that as soon as she put down her glasses, the world would attempt to devourer her.

Drew was at a loss. All he could do was hope for the best.

"High school is. . ." Drew pondered for a moment, attempting to pluck his words from thin air, "complicated. There are ups, and downs, just like any other part of life." He wasn't sure if she understood, but he continued, "But if you keep a positive attitude, you'll be golden."

That, she could do. After all, she was Kimberly Ann Possible. As her father had told her time and time again, she could do anything.

This sense of immortality terrified Drew.

Kim's head bobbed, as if she gained an understanding, while her green irises maintained a sort of vacancy. She could not comprehend the complexities of which her uncle had spoken, but she grasped onto his vague way of saying "look for the silver lining" and hoped that this was the correct message he was trying to send.

Drew understood the mystifying mysteries that came with this world on a much deeper level than Kim. As much as she longed for the answers as well, she knew that her uncle was not going to let her cheat, but, every-so-often, he did drop a clue or two to guide her along life's journey. So, as much as Drew's message worried the optimistic teen, she didn't hesitate to take his advice to heart.

"The real question is," the man turned his head towards the young teen who used his shoulder as a comfortable pillow, "how do you feel about high school?"

Kim lifted her head as her brows knitted into a tight furrow. She had pondered her answer to this question on many occasions, though no one had ever asked her before. At first, she was petrified. The old eight-graders loved to disperse rumors into the clamor of the middle school halls—horrid rumors that described terrible tales that had befallen their elder siblings; putrid tales of betrayal, hurt, and self-deprecating violence at the hands of broken friendships. But, as she climbed the ranks of the middle school social hierarchy with each passing grade, Kim had learned the hard way that the pool was, indeed, not located in the school's musty basement, so every tale that the eight-graders fed to her sixth-grader self was a lie, right?

"Well," she started, the word rolling off of her tongue like molasses as she used the pause to cultivate her answer, "I feel. . . good."

"Good?" Drew asked, inquisitively, "Only good?"

"What do you mean by only?"

"I thought you'd have a grander reaction, Kimmie," Drew responded. It was the truth. Kim was known for her grandiose reactions to changes in her life. From the time she was allowed to babysit the twins to when she put her best foot forward and embarked on her career as the world-renowned, teen-hero, Kim had often expressed her exuberance through screams of delight and conversations that moved at lightning speed. So, as Kim's next adventure grew nearer, for her to state that this exciting time of her life was simply good, perplexed her uncle.

She shrugged her shoulders, "I mean, high school is just an extension of middle school, right?"

Drew lifted an eyebrow. She couldn't be more wrong.

"Kim—"

"Sure, I may have to study more, but I have cheer tryouts next week, which I feel confident about—"

And Drew did not doubt that she was going to make the team, but that wasn't the point.

"But, Kim—"

"And there are the dances to look forwards to—"

And boys. Drew shuddered. Again, not the point.

"Kim—"

"On top of saving the world? Uncle Drew, I think I can handle it."

Drew lifted a finger as his brows contorted into a minute scowl. He was delighted to hear that there were aspects of high school that thrilled her, but Drew knew that if she were to step foot into Middleton High with this type of attitude, she would be crushed under the weight of reality that she had continuously neglected to accept.

"Yeah," Ron interjected, interrupting Drew before the man could utter a word, "this is Kim Possible we're talkin' 'bout. She's been doin' this for years. Why would high school be any different?"

Drew closed his eyes once again as a deep sigh parted his lips. Oh, how naïve they were.

"Kimberly."

Kim, who believed she had proved her point, closed her mouth at the sound of her name. This got her attention.

"Let me be the first to tell you that high school and middle school are two, completely different fiends."

Ron's once confident expression fell as he gingerly placed his cheek against his knees. That was something he didn't want to hear.

"Fiends," Drew continued, "that can be tamed with an exceptional amount of dedication and patience."

Great. As if middle school wasn't hard enough, the two teens would have to put in additional effort to "tame" the wild beast that was Middleton High. Weren't the adolescent years supposed to be fun? The promise of wild entertainment, coupled with copious amounts of simple, immediate gratification was what Kim and Ron had looked forward to. No one told them that they had to work for it.

Kim released the tension that she held within her arms at the realization that life does not get any easier. Defeated, she turned towards Ron, whose expression of discontent mirrored her own.

"Listen, I'll be frank with you two," Drew stated, his voice low with a hint of a somber tone laced within it. He hated to be the bearer of bad news, but someone had to ground these two eager teens in reality, and as sure as hell James wasn't going to be the one to do it. "High school is a lot of work—"

Their lips nestled into a deeper frown, but the teens let him continue without protest.

"But it's a wonderful time to learn who you are, in here," he brought the tips of his fingers, that were encased in crumbs from his peanut butter stickies, to his sternum.

This did not seem to dissuade his pseudo kids.

"At this point in your life, you will face hardships—some that are easy to overcome, some that are difficult to comprehend—but each challenge, each experience, will contain a certain amount of significance to you and only you."

Subconsciously, Kim and Ron found their bodies leaning towards Drew as they found themselves unexpectedly captivated by his statement.

"Unfortunately, not everything will come up roses—you will encounter failure—"

Kim's eyes narrowed as her gaze bore holes in her uncle's demeanor. Failure was not in her blood. Ron, on the other hand, battled dry-eye as his eyelids continued to widen in fear. More failures? Why couldn't he catch a break?

"But remember that while you're competing at cheer competitions, dancing at prom, or," he turned towards Ron, "spending your afternoons at Bueno Nacho—"

Did Uncle D just call him out? Ouch.

"These experiences don't define who you are, what you do with them will."

Kim and Ron, simultaneously, leaned forward to share a similar, perplexed look. "What you do with them"? What was that supposed to mean?

"But, I believe," Drew continued, unaware that he may have lost the two teens within his philosophical rant, "that you two can overcome whatever challenges life throws at you. Kim—"

She tore her attention away from her best friend and returned to the conversation at hand.

"I understand that your family has the motto 'anything's possible for a Possible', but I truly believe that you have what it takes to go above and beyond—to attain the goals that you set for yourself, despite life's complications."

A soft smile, welcomed by the warmth that rose to Kim's cheeks, returned, "Mom always said I came into this work with a fearsome kick."

Drew couldn't help but offer a smile in return, "She's right."

On impulse, Drew's left arm stealthy snaked out from beside his frame and gently wrapped around Kim's shoulder. He pulled her closer to his chest as her head resumed its position on his protruding shoulder. She exhaled, long as slow, as she let her body relax in Drew's embrace, allowing his arm to hold her in place. This is where she belonged.

"And Ron," his right arm mimicked his left as he brought his other nephew closer to the unconditional love that radiated from the cold caverns of his chest, "Don't sell yourself short, okay?"

Ron stammered as his body followed the coaxing arm of his uncle, "Wh-what do ya mean?"

"You're a bright, young man with a rather," Drew's lips tightened as he searched the recesses of his mind for the word he wanted to use, ". . . interesting outlook on life—"

Interesting was an understatement.

"Use that to your advantage. Solve problems with your creativity," he commanded as Ron's tuff of blond hair tickled the side of his cheek.

"You'll do great things, Ronald, I'm sure of it."

The intensity of Ron's fearful gaze subsided as a small wave of confidence washed over his features. If Drew believed that the meager teenager could achieve great feats, then Ron believed it, too.

Uncle D had never been wrong before.

As Ron leaned into Drew, the chemist felt the tension that the two teens held in their bodies dissolve as their backs pressed against his arms. With a sigh from Kim and a crunch next to Drew's ear as Ron took another, generous bite of his cookie, everything seemed. . . right.

And, for the remainder of the night, the three sat together and blissfully watched Jim and Tim relaunch their rocket into the blackened sky.

Maybe the world was not so cruel after all.

#drakken #dr drakken #drew lipsky #drakgo #kim possible #ron stoppable #kp fanfiction #drakgo fanfiction #if you could read my mind love #iycrmml #iycrmml update

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fuwafuwamedb · 5 years ago

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Oh Shit! My Goddess Pt 16 (Gilgamesh Caster/Archer, Rin, Siduri)

Previous Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 , 13, 14, 15

______

“So my sister is married to your younger self,” Rin clarified.

“Who is a servant right now to a woman in Chaldea named Gudako,” Gilgamesh agreed. “I’m sure that my Caster self has come up with a plan to ruin that somehow to his own aims, but we won’t know until we make it to the palace.”

Vimana was soaring over the city now, slowing as they began to reach the palace.

“What I could do,” Rin offered, “is maybe have another soul wish for Gilgamesh and Hakuno to be separated. It wouldn’t take too much effort and the system would have no choice but to agree.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, but the problem is finding another spirit and being close to Gil-“

“Just call him Proto.”

“Proto?”

Gilgamesh nodded, stopping Vimana at the stairs to the ziggurat.

He hopped down, taking a moment to enjoy the evening air. It’d be raining tomorrow for the kingdom, which meant that tonight was filled with the task of getting jars and buckets onto window sills and closing the windows later in the evening to ensure that the rainfall wouldn’t pour into their homes. The scented air was nice compared to the Chaldean filtration system.

“We call the fool ‘Proto’ because he’s a faulty attempt at what a king could be. He’s too young, too foolish, too entirely without the finesse of a king.” He caught the woman as she jumped down, setting her next to himself.

She hurried ahead of him as he put away his ship, but he wasn’t concerned.

No, in fact, he enjoyed walking in to see Caster losing his mind.

“This is Rin,” he introduced. “Rin is a goddess debugger. A divine persona with the ability to provide checks and balance to the universe. It seems a couple goddesses have escaped from their collective group due to the selfish desires of others. I felt it may be intriguing to see how such a position would work.”

Rin smiled at him a moment before noting Siduri.

She must have been the same Siduri then.

He’d wondered about that when Rin had mentioned a second goddess loose and roaming. Seeing the two run to one another and hug tightly said that he’d been right.

And his Caster self was paling.

Fascinating.

“…We have no need for more goddesses in Uruk,” he pointed out.

“My king is right,” Siduri pulled back, holding Rin’s shoulders. “You have a great responsibility, Rin. You should be home.”

“I have to save Hakuno. I’m going to let this Gilgamesh help me!” She motioned at him.

Truly, he was impressed again. A woman bearing the visage of Ishtar, daring to actually show intellect, charisma, and a brain?

Things were working strangely.

“Don’t make that look.”

Archer glanced to his Caster self, noting the glare.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“The boy is tamed. Siduri is calmer with her sister here. Don’t ruin things.”

Ah, but Hakuno was his wife, technically. The woman had eluded both of them and was running around with their young self. Proto was not responsible enough for handling a wife properly. It was his duty, in the end, to make things right.

“I would not dream of doing anything without reason,” Archer promised, earning a smile from Rin.

They would make quick work of this.

#drabble #drabbles

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silverbastardgoldenfool · 5 years ago

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Realm of the Elderlings Ask Meme Thing

Created by @hermitknut and brought back by @elderling-magic

Thanks @blackandwhitemotley for tagging me :) this is gonna be unnecessarily long because I’m a messy bitch with too many feelings and not enough brain cells

Favourite RotE Book: God it’s impossible to choose properly so let’s just go with the one that always gives me flashbacks when I see it on my bookshelf: Golden Fool

Why: I was already deeply obsessed at this point and had laughed, cried and panicked countless times throughout the series BUT Golden Fool stands out because of the Fitz/Fool confrontation which all but gave me a panic attack. Sure, I’ve been overly invested in book characters my whole life but the fact I was like physically fuckin sweating just because these guys were having a verbal fight, which had nothing to do with the actual plot, is fuckin wild my dude. Also despite my distress I was thrilled in a way because I never expected Robin to address the homoerotic tension in the actual text - and I was even more impressed that she makes the Fool the winner in this fight. You feel for him (ouch!!!!!!!!) but he gets the last word and the whole time you’re on his side and wishing Fitz would just keep his goddamn mouth shut (unless he’s gonna use it to kiss the Fool). She makes you empathise with the Fool without compromising his dignity, without making him a pathetic pining gay stereotype. He is hurt, he is human, but Fitz is the fool in this exchange (forgive the unintentional pun). It’s crazy how this one scene defines this whole huge book for me but it overwhelmingly does. Man it fucked me up.

Top Three Favourite Characters: I’m excluding Fitz, the Fool and Nighteyes cos that’s just a given honestly and there are too many incredible characters to choose from. Also I’m going to choose three characters I think are exceptional on a technical level since that’s the easiest way for me to pick a few out.

1. Burrich - Forever fascinating to me because I disagree with him probably more often than not AND YET I love him so much. It’s seriously like I have the same relationship with him that Fitz does - and/or the same relationship many of us have with father figures. That weird thing where you can fundamentally disagree on some pretty important stuff, and he makes a lot of mistakes and probably irrevocably fucked you up in a lot of ways but you can’t help but love him because you know he’s not doing anything from a place of malice or pettiness or selfishness. He simply knows what he believes and is righteous to a fault. He’s always doing his best - whatever that looks like to him. There are so many things he says or does that make me amazed that I don’t hate him. I think in another series he is the kind of character I would hate. The fact that Robin makes me love him - and conflicted about that love - is a marvel.

2. Malta - I won’t harp on about this too much because we all know the deal. Malta’s early POVs were a tween nightmare. I had to skim them because they were so viscerally irritating. I guess it’s a huge testament to the writing that it really did feel like you were stuck in a tween girl’s head; the problem is that is the worst hell imaginable. It’s an even greater testament to the writing that, through some of the most masterful character development I have ever witnessed, you actually end up loving this girl.

3. Kennit - He’s such a monster that I hate actually saying he’s one of my favourite characters but it’s true. Especially from a writing perspective; it’s fucking witchcraft how Robin has you judging everyone around Kennit for falling for his charms even while you are in some way charmed by him. He’s intelligent, charismatic, enigmatic. You know he’s not a good person yet you enjoy spending time with him, you’re kind of rooting for him just because he’s interesting and you want to see what he’s going to do next. You even know - the narration straight up tells you - that most of his successes are down to pure dumb luck yet we still kind of buy into this persona of his. Absolutely brilliant writing. Not to mention his backstory, which is so tragic and compelling, and manages to explain his actions without excusing them. Without a doubt one of my top five favourite villains of all time.

Top Three Least Favourite Characters: Okay so again going for the writing angle; characters I just felt weren’t handled all that well on a technical level. Keep in mind that this is suuuuuper subjective. Also I can only think of two.

1. Molly - I’ve seen a lot of people assume that people who dislike her feel that way because she “gets in the way” of Fitz/Fool but that’s not true for me. I’ll try and keep this shortish because I have way too many feelings about this topic lol. Having read the whole series I wouldn’t change anything, but for a long time I really felt like the story would have been better if she wasn’t in it, or especially if she had not come back after Assassin’s Quest. Maybe that’s harsh, but I honestly just generally dislike the whole “first love, last love” trope (and in my personal experience have found it v toxic). I never found her character particularly engaging, but by the end of Farseer I had made my peace with her role in Fitz’s story; the way I saw it, she represented the life Fitz wanted but could never have. Of course you could argue then that it makes sense for Fitz to get her back once he is allowed to have a window of normal life - and that would be true EXCEPT the whole reason I saw her as a symbol and not a real love interest was because their relationship was TERRIBLE. It was seriously toxic and literally based on lies. I really felt what would have been healthy for Fitz at the end of Tawny Man would have been to find peace in realising that Molly was his past, not his future, and that what they’d had was teenage lust and not the stuff of soulmates. I don’t like the implication that Fitz was right to idealise this tumultuous, dishonest, immature relationship he had as a teenager all these years. Honestly this is why I was FURIOUS when I finished Fool’s Fate lol, even though I knew this wasn’t the ultimate ending. Now that I know where Robin went with this and that Fitz wasn’t really fulfilled in his life with Molly I don’t mind it as much but I still don’t love it. There was never enough of an honest, genuine, selfless connection established between the two of them for it to feel like anything other than an unhealthy fixation that Fitz projected all his unattainable fantasies onto. He never seemed to see Molly as a fully realised person which made it hard for me to do so. Also seriously, if I had been pining after my high school fling for the last ten years everyone would agree that the best thing for me would be to move on, not get back together with them. I’m not saying Fitz didn’t deserve his little bracket of peaceful years, but it just didn’t have to be with Molly. Sometimes not getting what you thought you wanted is the happy ending - I guess it’s just really jarring in a series that’s generally so subversive to get a standard fantasy trope like this. I really truly was shocked when Fitz got his feelings back from the stone dragon and his realisation was not “Molly is kind of just a girl I used to know a long time ago and our paths have long since diverged” but “yes no actually that girl I haven’t talked to in over a decade is my soulmate” like, wig in the worst way. ALSO SHE WAS FUCKING HIS DAD ALL THAT TIME. SHE BORE HIS DAD CHILDREN. HIS DAD HAD TO DIE SO THEY COULD BE TOGETHER. BRUH. Seriously it did feel like Burrich was sacrificed solely so these two little shits could get back together, and again, that was so infuriating and so not like these books. This and Burrich not being canonically in love w Chivalry are the only two points I actually get riled up about from a writing/critical perspective lol, every other flaw and quirk in this series I will absolutely pardon but for some reason these just get to me dude.

2. Starling - Promise this one is simpler lol. I always found Starling quite irritating “as a person” but didn’t mind her as a character. What I didn’t love was the way her lifestyle (promiscuity, independence, nomadic etc.) was kind of justified when it didn’t need to be, with the typical explanation that she’s only like this because she can’t have kids. It just felt really unnecessary, and it was even worse when she did get pregnant and basically just became a completely different person. But I’m generally touchy when it comes to female characters and fertility/pregnancy storylines as I just feel like they’re rarely done well. And I just really don’t like it when infertility is implied as a justification for character traits (usually traditionally male traits) that don’t need justifying.

Favourite Ship (of the floating kind): Paragon of course, we love a problematic fave.

Top Three Favourite Ships (of the people kind): Fitz/Fool, Sedric/Carson, Althea/Brashen (the only heteros whomst deserve rights)

Would you rather be Witted or Skilled: Honestly wouldn’t want either but if I had to choose I guess the Wit? I’d much rather be inside an animal’s head than another human’s no thanks bb

If you were Witted, what animal would you bond with?: If I’m still living in my current situation in this hypothetical then I guess a house cat. If I really get to go wild then I am absolutely bonding with a big cat, like a tiger or a panther IMAGINE THE SNUGGLES.

Would you rather live in the Outislands, the Mountain Kingdom, the Six Duchies, Bingtown, the Rain Wilds, Kelsingra, Jamaillia, the Pirate Isles, or Fool’s Homeland?: Dude I am so bad at visualising locations so idk lol, I guess queer utopia Kelsingra although obviously it has its drawbacks.

How were you introduced to the books? My mum had been telling me for years that if I liked A Song of Ice and Fire I would like Realm of the Elderlings. I was putting it off because there are so many books and I also knew how much she loved them so I was worried I wouldn’t like them and she’d be let down. But I eventually got so close to rereading ASOIAF (which I swore I wouldn’t do til Winds of Winter is released) that I decided to finally give RotE a go in its stead.

Share a quote you love: I don’t have a book on me rn but that part in Fool’s Errand when Fitz is talking about how the Fool has wandered into the place he’s been living for years and immediately, effortlessly made it a home is TENDERNESS BEYOND COMPARE ARE YOU KIDDING.

Tagging: if you see this and haven’t done it yet, consider yourself tagged!

Take the thing, copy and paste it into your own post, tag it “elderlings” and then tag as many people as you can that you know in the fandom.

#rote #Realm of the Elderlings #robin hobb

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darlingrutherford · 5 years ago

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Once Upon a Time in Thedas Update!

Well, my brain isn’t letting me focus on much, but it did let me finish up this next chapter for my Cinderella!AU! For those who haven’t been following along but would like to, you can find chapter one on both Tumblr and Ao3

Super big thanks to those liking and sharing! Reblogs help boost visibility and are just all around awesome, so thank you if you do! <3

This chapter is pretty mild ratings wise. Enjoy! <3

Once Upon a Time in Thedas - a DA Cinderella!AU | Chapter 3 | Alistair Theirin/Lana Surana | Overall fic rated explicit for further out chapters

Three weeks had passed since Leliana had helped with Lana’s hurt finger. Things had been quiet for the most part, and Lana had enjoyed the calm as much as she could. As soon as the sun went down, once dinner was finished and the kitchen clean, Lana always went straight to bed. When she was younger her mother would check on her throughout the night and reprimand her if her candle burned too late, but at this stage of her life she had learned and they in turn had learned to trust her in that respect. Tonight had been the same as most nights, and though Lana's parents had long since gone to sleep, she found herself sitting on her bed, her hand cupped along the back of a candle to dim its projection as she quietly read one of the books her father had leant to her. It was old, one Lana had read until the pages had frayed at the edges over time. The book told the story of Andraste in a more fantastical manner than the Chant of Light, something meant to entertain children who needed more than cryptic prose and verses. Her mother had insisted that she had outgrown it, but it was one of the areas her father had indulged her. Lana loved the stories of Andraste, of the great battles she had fought on behalf of the Maker, the adventures she had experienced, down to the betrayal by her husband to Tevinter. It was quite morbid for a children's book perhaps, but Lana was fascinated by it.

As Lana turned the page, she jumped as she heard a light tapping on her window. She waited, then it happened again. Maker, was a bird trying to get in? Perhaps an owl? She squinted as she scooted closer to the window, confusion spreading on her face as she saw the distinct outline of Sister Leliana's face. She had almost not recognized her, void of her usual Chantry dress wear and now in a deep purple dress. Quiet as she could, Lana opened her window.

“Sister?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, terrified of her parents hearing her. Sister Leliana waved her towards her with a mischievous smile on her face. Lana opened her mouth to speak, stopping as the Sister quickly moved away from the window and into the garden. Her heart pounding, Lana looked towards her door and listened intently. She hadn't heard a sound in the house for an hour, her parents having gone to bed when she had earlier. Quiet as a mouse, Lana took a leap of faith, putting out the candle and hopping out the window. Her bare feet hit the grass outside, cool dew making her shiver in her nightgown. Sister Leliana had stopped at the edge of the yard before turning around suddenly to face Lana.

“Would you like to go to the ball?”

Lana's mouth hung open. Of all the things to come out of the Sister's mouth, that had been the least of Lana's expectations.

“What?” She asked in disbelief.

“You heard me.” Leliana was grinning wildly, her eyes practically twinkling in the dark.

“I can't - I can't possibly… I'm in a nightgown, and my parents -”

“Were fast asleep when I peeked in their window,” Sister Leliana said. “Would you go? I can make sure you get home before they notice. We can leave at the stroke of midnight. And I've found the perfect dress for you.”

“Why are you doing this for me?” Lana asked in disbelief. She could feel a well of emotions building inside of her, of fear and excitement and everything in between. She looked back at her room, as if she would have been able to hear her parents stirring in their bed.

“Because you deserve a little fun for once in your life. As your assigned Sister, I am hereby demanding it,” Sister Leliana said. “You won't make me return the dress, will you?”

Lana had given in. She knew her punishment would be great if her parents ever found out, but the chance to see Denerim, to see the palace, and the people - it was all too tempting. Sister Leliana had led her to an outstretch of forest where she had hidden a small chest of goods behind the brush. From the chest the Sister had pulled a dress, deep blue in color with similarly colored lace that overlay the breast and flowed onto the off-the-shoulder sleeves. As Lana stared at the dress Leliana had placed in her arms, she watched as a pair of golden colored slippers were placed on top. The Sister had then promptly fussed about her, ensuring she got dressed in a timely manner beneath the light of the moon.

“Where did you get these?” Lana asked in awe. To any noble lord or lady, the dress would not have seemed anything special. It was simple, save for the cut of the dress and its pleats, not with any large petticoat of the sort she had seen in the drawings of children's books. Still, Lana was sure she had never worn anything so exquisite, and found herself unable to suppress the grin on her face as she twirled her hips back and forth to move the long skirt. Leliana laughed as she unbraided Lana's hair and fluffed it over to one side.

“A friend owed me a favor,” Leliana smiled knowingly. “Now, come on. We won't have much time if we take too long getting there.”

The two of them walked through the city on foot. As dark as it was, the streets were lit by lanterns that glowed onto the dirt. The closer they got to the palace, the more cobblestone was paved beneath their feet. Many shops near the marketplace were still open, “On account of the ball,” Leliana had explained. Lana became sidetracked many times by the various stores, peering in through the windows to see what goods they sold. There were shops selling dresses both plain and exquisite, shops with weapons and armory, ones with dried herbs that hung from the roofs and jars of concoctions she had never heard of. Leliana took her by the arm, delicately rerouting her down the path towards the palace.

There were so many people outside the palace, even more so inside. Lana was sure she had never seen so many people in one place before. Everyone was dressed impeccably. Women were dressed in their best gowns, covered in lace and pearls and feathers. There were a few in gold and silver masks, accompanied by men similarly outfitted. Many of the long hallways were open for the ball, but the main event was in the throne room. It had been outfitted for the ball, with great cuts of fabric draped from the ceiling in gold, white, and red to match the Fereldan banner. There was a small band of musicians at the top of the hall near the empty throne, and people dancing to the music in the center of the room. The sides of the hall had been lined with tables covered in various foods and drink, and servants walked around in matching outfits seeing to everyone's needs.

“This is… amazing.” Lana couldn't help but laugh with a smile on her face. In all her wildest dreams, she never could have imagined anything this grand.

“I want you to have fun tonight,” Leliana instructed, smiling brightly down at Lana. “Don't hold back. All right?”

“Okay,” Lana nodded, smiling ear to ear.

“Have you met Lady Casing yet? Her father is Lord Casing, of Calenhad. She rides horses in her spare time.” Eamon was talking, but at this point in the night, after three hours of people eagerly rambling at him and pining for his attention, Alistair found it difficult to focus. “Alistair, are you listening to me?”

“Yes, I met Lady Casing,” Alistair sighed. “She spent the entire time talking about her summer estate and how she hopes she can change things up once she's Queen.”

“Well, the Queen will have a certain amount of influence on the palace, it's true.”

“She wants to ensure she only has human ladies-in-waiting so as to cut down on the stealing.”

“There is an entire room of ladies for you to choose from, your Majesty. If not Lady Casing, how about… Lady Roberts? She's an avid player of chess, the youngest of three…”

Alistair looked around the room a bit lacklusterly as Eamon continued on. Every lady who had shown up had seemed the same as the last: rich, spoiled women who talked highly of themselves and their families only to raise their brows in confusion the moment Alistair tried to bring up anything not to do with wealth, land, or politics. At one point early on in the night, his mabari, Bryn, had snuck his way into the hall in search of a good scratch and a snack, easily crossing ten or so women from Alistair's list as they reacted in disgust. He tried to remind himself that there were three nights of this, but surely any woman interested would be there all three nights? If they were all there was to be, he had doubts of finding someone he could truly connect with at all. As he continued looking around - nodding periodically whenever Eamon's tone piqued as it did when he was asking a question - his eyes drifted over towards one of the tables against the wall, and his eyes stopped as he saw her, his heart fluttering. The woman stood near the table, her focus not on the food or anyone in particular, but on the dancing crowd further away.

“And, of course, you should meet Lady Ansling…”

Alistair nodded his head as if he were listening, but truth be told he could barely hear a thing. All his focus had moved onto this woman. Her fiery red hair lay about her face in a mess, quite contrary to the fancy updos of everyone else, as her eyes skated back and forth over the crowd. She seemed to be in as much awe as he felt, the kind of warm smile plastered across her face that he could feel from afar. She was beautiful. More beautiful than any woman he had laid eyes on that night. Eamon long forgotten, he left his spot in the corner and began walking towards the woman. He walked up beside her, pausing as he tried to find his brain which had conveniently decided to leave him the moment he neared her.

“Nice… Party, isn't it?” He started. He looked down at her, wondering after a moment if she hadn't realized that he had been speaking to her. He reached out and tapped her bare shoulder lightly. He grimaced as she jumped and saw the shock on her face. “Maker, I'm sorry. It's… Loud, I didn't know if you heard me.”

“Oh! I'm so sorry!” Lana said. The initial worry had faded from her face and was quickly replaced by a smile as she craned her neck up to look at him. Maker, but he must have been a foot taller than her if not more, she guessed. He was dressed quite nicely, in a smooth, brown doublet with a trim of darker brown, and a cotton white shirt with long sleeves underneath, though even his clothes were void of the fancy frill Lana had seen on the other lords there.

“Bit of a dusty old place, isn't it?” Alistair said. “I just came for the food, myself.”

“Oh?” Lana laughed, watching him as he took a small, bite-sized treat from a plate and popped it into his mouth. “Not for the dancing? I suppose they're all wanting to dance with the King, though. Probably smart to stick with the food. You might get thrown out if you're caught with the future queen.”

“Yes, that would be unfortunate,” he chuckled. Maker, but she didn't know who he was? Alistair instantly felt himself relax, feeling more at ease with someone who would have no preconceived expectations from him. That meant she wasn't a noble, then. All the nobles seemed to already know his face, though many others had still known him from the hand drawn posters that had made it around the city announcing the ball. “Should I leave you alone, then? So the King gets his turn. I wouldn't want to get thrown out if he has his eyes on you.”

“Oh, I don't think that'll be a problem,” she said. She flushed at his words, her hand tugging at strands of her hair nervously. “A… Friend brought me here, to enjoy it. I'm just taking it all in. I don't think he would be very interested in someone like me.”

“Why do you think that?” Maker, but even her modesty warmed his heart.

“Well, I'm not a noble, for starters.” Lana paused, her voice getting fairly quiet as she continued. “I'm a mage, as well.”

“Not exactly illegal, is it? Being a mage.”

“No, but mages are dangerous… I can't imagine it would be smart, making one Queen.”

“So I could dance with you without worry of royal retribution, then?” He teased.

“You want to… Really?” She seemed shocked at his seemingly innocent proposal, her face reddening by the moment. “Even though… I just told you that I'm a…?”

“I've met dangerous people who weren't mages,” Alistair said, shrugging casually. “I have no reason to fear you, do I? Miss…?”

“Lana,” she said, and for a moment she was sure her face would melt from the heat that rushed to it.

“Lana. Maker, your name is very…” Alistair cleared his throat, feeling heat of his own rush to his cheeks. “I'm Alistair.”

“You have the same name as the King?” Lana asked, laughing lightly at the coincidence.

“We're one in the same, he and I,” He chuckled. “Now…Shall we grace their grace’s presence on the dance floor?”

He bowed rather dramatically in front of her, grinning as she laughed at his presentation. He held out his hand for her, fairly certain he would hold the pose all night if needed. Lana bit her lip, looking around to see if she could find Leliana in the crowd to give her any sort of direction. When she couldn't locate her, Lana timidly placed her hand in his. Lana felt as if her heart would burst from sudden adrenaline as Alistair whisked her off to the dance floor in no time at all. Her heart pounded as he placed a hand lightly on her waist.

“I don't know how to dance,” she admitted sheepishly.

“That makes two of us. Just follow my lead,” Alistair said, giving her a quick wink. “Well, I've had a few lessons recently, but they were rather rushed and the teacher was pretty awful… Either that or I was so bored out of my mind I've forgotten it all.”

“Bored from dancing?” Lana repeated in disbelief. She looked down at their feet as Alistair began, trying to follow his motions.

“I suppose with the right partner, it's all right,” he said. He smiled as he watched her concentrate, each step carefully taken. “Don't think about it too much. You're doing great.”

“Just… Follow you, right?”

“Right.” Alistair felt his heart flutter as her eyes met his again. They were such a deep blue, like how he imagined the ocean at its deepest point. Red spread across her cheeks again the longer he stared at her, and he couldn't help the stupid grin that plastered on his face. “Are you enjoying the ball?”

“It's unlike anything I've ever seen,” Lana said. Her eyes darted around as they danced, trying to take in everything from the new angle. More people had gathered around the dancefloor than she had remembered a moment ago, some dancing, others watching. “I've never seen so many people… I feel like they're watching us.”

“Probably because you're such a good dancer.”

“What?” Her head snapped back to look at him with a smile. She felt as if every word he directed towards her was making her flush, and she wasn't wrong. He seemed so genuinely interested in her, it was almost alarming. At the same time, it felt… Incredibly nice.

“Putting them all to shame with your perfect moves.” He grinned as she laughed. “I bet you're secretly a bard or something, come to seduce the king and set the kingdom in turmoil.”

“That's it. You've found me out,” Lana snorted.

“I knew it,” Alistair scoffed. “That's all right. I'll keep your secret, if you keep mine.”

“Oh? What's that?”

“I'm here to do the same. Don't you laugh - I'm very seductive, I'll have you know!”

“Really? When's the last time you seduced an unsuspecting target?” She teased.

“Well… If you must know… Right now.”

“Me?”

“You said you're a mage, right? I figure... I seduce you, you use your magical ways to get me to the King’s chambers…”

“You think you're seducing me with a few steps to the side and back?” Lana laughed.

“Oh, I haven't shown you all my moves just yet.” Alistair let go of her waist before lifting her hand high above her head. He moved his hand in a tight circle, spinning her until the skirt of her dress lifted from the ground around her ankles. Lana let out a loud squeal in surprise as she was spun, the hall a blur to her as her eyes tried to focus on anything, but ultimately failed. When Alistair finally stopped spinning her, she tripped over her feet as she stumbled while the floor seemingly moved beneath her. Alistair quickly caught her, and the two of them laughed loudly as she clung to his arms for balance.

“I don't think we're behaving quite properly, judging on the face of Lord Pompous in the mask over there…” Alistair murmured quietly to her with an impish grin. Lana leaned back, her hands still gripping tightly into his arms, finding the man in the intricate silver mask wearing more frills than anyone else in the hall. He was sporting a scowl discernible even with the mask, clearly unapproving of their playfulness at such a serious event. Lana tried to hold down a laugh, but one look at Alistair and she lost it, the laugh bursting from her simultaneously with his.

Time eluded the two of them. Lana and Alistair spent what felt like mere moments to them dancing. They talked the entire time, and for that time Lana was the happiest she had ever felt. Here was the first person she had spoken to outside of her parents and the Chantry in more than ten years, and he had looked on her more favorable than any of them ever had, even knowing full well that she was a mage. He was so kind, wanting to know as much about her as possible. She knew it wouldn't last long, but Lana felt herself wishing for a way to make that night last forever. After more than an hour, Alistair had looked behind her and grimaced as he saw Teagan waving him over. He paused his feet, smiling at Lana in regret.

“Give me one moment, I'll be right back,” he pleaded. He brought her hand up to his mouth and placed a warm kiss on the back of her hand. Heat spread like wildfire from her fingers to her face at the touch of his lips. She felt frozen to the spot as he left her, floating in the clouds high above the palace. Then, the sound of a great clocktower began to ring the hour, and her heart sunk. Midnight. She wondered if there was time to tell him, and then she saw Sister Leliana near the arched doorway waving for her. She had to go. She looked around the room, unable to find Alistair on account of her short stature and the crowd that had gathered where he had gone. She bit down her disappointment, reminding herself that this was all a short lived dream after all, and ran towards the door.

When Alistair had finished speaking with Teagan, he found himself distraught. He scanned the hall with no luck, no sign of the red hair that was burned into his memory. She was nowhere to be found. He left to wander the halls looking for her in case she had gone to get some air, still coming up empty and wondering what he had said wrong. Eventually Eamon had found him, insisting that he return to the ball. Alistair reluctantly followed him back, praying to the Maker that she'd return the following night.

#alistair theirin #suranistair #dragon age #cinderella!au #once upon a time in thedas #lana surana #my ocs #my work #fanfiction

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danyka-fendyr · 6 years ago

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As the Raven Flies: Part 3

Okay, everybody, you know the drill at this point. I write, I edit, I queue and post, and then I sit here desperately awaiting your feedback while hoping Tumblr didn’t royally screw this whole thing up. Ah, the joys of posting your fic on a barely functional site and trying to keep a schedule. The good news is, the apocalypse is always tomorrow depending on who you ask, and it’s always 5 o’clock somewhere, so just hang in there kids!

Wordcount: 2641 approximately because I may have written this last minute sue me

Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines @rhabakoli @disengagefrmreality

(Look! We’re at three people in the taglist now!)

Vivien tried to listen in on their conversation, but they went outside to talk, much to her chagrin. Slowly, what little she could hear of their voices faded away. And then she was fast asleep, gone until the next morning.

Vivien hated mornings more than anything else in the world. This was for two reasons, the weekday reason and the weekend reason. The weekday reason was, of course, that she had to go to school. She didn’t exactly hate school, but she would have honestly preferred to just learn of her own volition. Not to mention the anxiety deadlines gave her. Reason number two was just that she had to wake up. There was just something so pleasant about sleeping when you were as exhausted as Vivien was all the time.

“Vivien, sweetie, you have to get up. You have school.” Karen’s voice spoke softly from above her as Vivien groaned, refusing to open her eyes.

It was always so bright during the day. She hated it. She hated everything.

“I don’t want to go. Can’t I just call in sick?”

“Sorry kiddo, but that’s not going to happen unless you start puking into my potted plant.”

“Darn it.” Vivien cracked open an eye to glare balefully up at her current nemesis, former role model.

“I made smoothies,” Karen bribed her.

“Really?”

“Really. I also made you a lunch to take to school and set out some clothes for you. All you have to do is get in the shower.”

“Ugh. I guess.” Vivien crawled out of bed, body limp and floppy. “Thanks Karen.”

“You’re welcome. Now go!”

Vivien hopped in the shower, borrowing Karen’s toiletries. She already had a spare toothbrush here since Karen let her sleep over pretty often. Said she needed to get away from the boys sometimes, and Vivien agreed.

She plugged her iPod into the alarm clock dock, unashamedly playing Love Bug. What? The Jonas Brothers made a comeback. They were totally cool again.

She pulled on the clothes Karen had put together for her that Matt had brought over after finishing his nightly patrol. Admittedly Matt had only been able to find them because after the first time this had happened it had gone so poorly she’d left a few spare sets of clothes laying around in her room where Matt could find them, but she’d give him credit anyway. She also may have done some lip-syncing and dancing, but that was between her, God and the downstairs neighbor.

She headed out to the kitchen, and Karen handed her a smoothie in a Mason jar with a straw. “You, missie, are going to be late, and so am I. Go!”

Vivien swung her backpack (also courtesy of Matt, bless his soul) over her shoulder and ran out the door to catch the bus as Karen pulled on her heels, nearly flashing everyone in the hallway while also narrowly missing landing on her face. Vivien steadied her with one arm before taking the steps two at a time, just barely making it before Janet closed the bus doors. She flashed the elderly lady a smile before finding a seat.

School was what school always was. Mostly boring. Her AP classes were fun, but everything else was painfully easy. It wasn’t that Vivien thought she was smarter than everyone else. In contrast, she was firmly under the impression that everyone else was just very, very, abysmally stupid. Poor creatures.

Eventually, her school day started to come to a close. She survived her second least favorite part, gym, only to make it to the worst part of her day. Every Wednesday, like clockwork, she reported to the school counselor’s office. She wasn’t required to do so by the school, but she was required to do so by her own mind. She had conditioned herself to want to do it by buying herself a soda afterwards. It sort of worked. She still hated it, but she was here, wasn’t she?

She took a seat on the other side of the counselor’s desk, trying to seem pleasant and dare she say it, happy.

“Hello Mrs. Brannigan.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Hello Miss Fairchild. How have you been since we last met?”

“Oh, the usual.” Vivien fake smiled again. She did a lot of that here. “Just working hard at my studies.”

Mrs. Brannigan nodded. “And making new friends.”

Vivien grimaced. “I have friends, Mrs. Brannigan. They just don’t go here.”

Mrs. Brannigan nodded, but she didn’t seem like she believed her. “I just think it would be best if you were friends with some of your peers as well.”

“I’m friendly with my peers. Isn’t that enough?” Vivien jutted her chin out, sharp eyes drilling into the counselor.

Mrs. Brannigan did not balk. Mrs. Brannigan didn’t seem like the kind of person to balk. She seemed like the kind of person to continue blinking placidly even if the building was burning down around her, her mousy brown hair coated in ashes and her dark eyes clouded with smoke.

“I’m afraid not, Vivien.” Oh good. They were dropping the formalities now. “You need friends at school. People you can rely on.”

“I rely on Mr. Carp to give me a good art grade.”

Mrs. Brannigan had the nerve to give her The Look. The sort of look you give someone when you want to convey that you are absolutely done with their nonsense. Vivien was very familiar with this look. Not only had she been on the receiving end of it many times, but she had also leveled it on Matt and Foggy many, many times, even though only the latter half of that duo could see it.

“Do you ever let yourself be happy, Vivien?”

“Yes.” The answer was immediate, and apparently, it was too quick for Mrs. Brannigan.

“What makes you happy then?”

Vivien blinked at her. It wasn’t like she could tell the woman that leaping across rooftops at night and fighting criminals was what made her happy. That would get her put in an institution, at best.

“Music,” was the first thing she choked out.

“How so?” Mrs. Brannigan folded her hands together, placing them on the desk and leaning forward.

“I like dancing to it. You know, just...by myself. It’s fun.”

Mrs. Brannigan nodded. “Well, at least you still know what happiness is.”

Vivien was pretty sure it was meant to be a joke, but it hit a little too close to home. She knew this was supposed to be good for her, but she really did hate it. It wasn’t that Mrs. Brannigan wasn’t a nice lady, but Vivien liked to handle her problems herself. This was entirely too foreign and unpleasant and exposing for her.

“And your family?” Mrs. Brannigan spoke softly. “Have you...been to visit their graves lately?”

It was like someone had found Vivien’s off switch and abruptly flipped it. The light fell out of her eyes, the fake smile from her mouth, and she became just another mannequin sitting in that office, eyes glazed and staring into the distance. She was just...empty.

“Every Sunday. I bring flowers after church.”

“That’s good.” Mrs. Brannigan’s voice was soft, and her face conveyed that she did not think anything that was happening right now was good, an understandable reaction when your patient completely shut down.

“Yeah.” Vivien stared down at her empty palms sitting in her lap.

Uninvited, her brain conjured up an image of them covered in blood. She could hear ringing in her ears, and she closed her eyes tight against it. She shook her head, shaking his voice out of her ears.

Her eyes were wet when she opened them again.

“Well, I think that will be all for today,” Mrs. Brannigan said.

She sounded disappointed, but they both knew she wouldn’t get much farther with Vivien like this. She had tried their first few sessions, but it never worked. At some point, she pushed too hard, and Vivien shut off. They were just working on waylaying that point at the moment.

“You should work on making some new friends though. I’m sure your classmates are all very nice people. Perhaps someone who sits next to you?”

“Okay,” Vivien said numbly.

They both knew she wouldn’t really try. Or maybe she would, and she just wouldn’t try hard enough to succeed. What a familiar feeling that would be.

“I’ll see you for our next session Miss Fairchild.”

“Yeah. See you then. Thank you Mrs. Brannigan.”

Vivien took her backpack, grateful she always saved her counseling sessions for the last part of her day. She swung by one of the vending machines to buy a cream soda before heading out to catch her bus. She popped her headphones on, drinking her soda as the driver pulled the bus forward.

She stared out the window on the way home, trying to think of anything that wasn’t the color red. This was difficult, considering the fact that Matt wore almost entirely red. She did her best though, trying to take herself back to this morning, when she had been happy with Karen, taking breakfast onto the bus.

But the truth of the matter would always be that she could never go back to who she was.

So instead she escaped. Usually her coping mechanism involved punching people, but that was probably not the best option at this very moment in time, so instead she chose a more literal form of escapism. She pulled George Orwell’s 1984 out of her backpack, flipping to the middle of the book. Was it required reading? No. But it was interesting, that was for sure.

She spent the rest of the bus ride drinking cream soda and reading her book, avoiding the attention of other students. Lately, that hadn’t been much trouble. There had been a certain amount of morbid fascination with her after everything first happened, but it only took a few months for that to wear off, and then came what always came to survivors of great tragedies. She became a social pariah, someone no one wanted to be around or actively interact with if they could help it. After all, no one liked a reminder of the darker moments of their lives, and the walking talking ones were the worst kind. Vivien knew this better than anyone.

She used to have friends. Of course she had. You didn’t get to your senior year of high school without ever having any friends at all, fake or otherwise, and Vivien had the oddly good fortune to be something resembling not unpopular. This fell apart quickly though after her own great tragedy.

Some of them decided that she was simply no longer worth socializing with. That might have hurt if she hadn’t been dealing with far more pressing losses. The others she managed to slowly push away. It started with her new, unapproachable personality. She was pointedly aloof, exaggeratedly lifeless. She didn’t want anything to do with anyone, that much was clear.

She had a few friends who were more persistent than that though. Sometimes she missed them. Right now she missed them. Maybe they had pitied her, maybe they had loved her. It was hard for Vivien to tell the difference these days. Either way, she had to actively tell them to go away, scream at them until they ran for the hills. After everything that had happened to her, she just wanted to be left alone.

She just wanted to be left alone.

“Hey, Fairchild.”

Vivien’s eyes snapped open. She had closed them, head resting against the back of the seat at an awkward angle that would have left her staring at the ceiling if she had kept her eyes open. After a few moments of that undesirable view, she changed her mind and decided to rest her eyes for a minute.

The face she now saw hovering above her own was disappointingly familiar. Wide blue eyes, half a smile, and night black hair that was longer than it probably should be, but not long enough to necessarily be considered long. She only knew him because he had been the only person in the entire school not to spend a brief period trying to bother her as much as he possibly could during the brief interim where she was a person of interest. She sort of didn’t hate him for that, which was unfortunate, because she was pretty sure she was about to.

For a long moment, Vivien considered telling him to go away. Mrs. Brannigan’s voice echoed in her head though, begging her to just please, please try. She sighed, rolling her eyes before rolling her neck, turning around and deciding to play nice.

“Hello Hunter. Your hair is stupid.”

He laughed. She had known he would. He was good at that. Laughing in the face of adversity.

“Thanks. So, how have you been?”

“Oh, the usual. Annoyed. Unapproachable. Trying to decide if I should be goth or punk.”

“Ah, but your prep aesthetic is working so well for you!” He said, with feigned dismay.

Vivien cracked a smile, despite her best efforts. “Yeah, well, I’ve been keeping an eye on Jessica Jones, and her whole leather jacket thing seems to really be working out for her.”

“Fair point. I would like to counter with the fact that it is the woman that makes the clothes, not the clothes that make the woman.” James Hunter settled his arms on the back of my otherwise empty bus seat, resting his head on them.

“If that’s true, then why should I keep the prep clothes?” she countered.

She thought for sure that would stump him, but he didn’t miss a beat. “Because I like them. Not that my opinion particularly matters, as you have made very clear, but wouldn’t you rather have one of us insignificant fools like your clothes than none of us insignificant fools?”

I thought about it for a moment. “Alright. I’ll keep the button downs, Hunter, but only because I don’t want to go shopping.”

“Heaven forbid you have to buy anything that isn’t a sweater vest, am I right?”

“I don’t wear sweater vests.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Sometimes you do.”

He was right. Sometimes she did.

“They’re hand me downs, okay?”

He took his head off his hands to raise them in the air, a gesture of surrender. “Hey, I’m not judging Fairchild.”

“I just want you to know that I’m only talking to you because my therapist said I need friends.” She wasn’t sure why she told him that.

“Well, normally I would say that Mrs. Brannigan is full of it, but I think she might actually be right about that. You’ve been painfully alone since the beginning of the year, are you aware of that?”

“Acutely so.”

“I would ask what happened there, but that doesn’t really seem like any of my business.”

Vivien raised an eyebrow. She had...not been expecting him to say something so utterly self-aware.

“Not yet, anyway. I expect you’ll want to be friends first before you tell me why you have none.”

“And who said we were going to be friends, Hunter?”

“I did. Good news Fairchild, you are no longer beholden to Mrs. Brannigan’s unreasonable demands. I promise to be low maintenance.”

She squinted at him before the corner of her lips quirked up a little bit. “Cross your heart?”

“And hope to die.”

The smile fell right off her face. “Don’t do that.”

“Right. Sorry. Uhh...hope to get high.”

Vivien snorted with the unexpected humor of it. Everyone knew Hunter was clean as a whistle.

“There you go. We’ll have you smiling again in no time, Fairchild.”

“No promises Hunter.”

The bus screeched to a halt as she spoke.

“As much as I would like to extort some promises out of you in turn, I do believe this is your stop, Vivien.”

She looked up, and sure enough, they were in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen.

“See you tomorrow.” He smiled at her again, and she told herself that she only smiled back out of obligation.

“See you tomorrow, James.”

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edream93 · 7 years ago

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I’m Hooked On All These Feelings (Harry of Auradon AU) Part 4

Okay so let’s all just assume that I’m not going to be able to give up Tumblr for 6 weeks. Oh well! Anyway, back with Part 4 of the Harry of Auradon AU (here’s the link for Part 1 , Part 2 , and Part 3)? Enjoy and of course let me know what you think either on here or on AO3 or FF.net. Likes are great but comments, even in the tags of reblogs are always appreciated.

I’m kind of nervous about this chapter because it really gave me a hard time but I hope you all still manage to enjoy!

On the Isle, 6 years ago

He hadn’t been there. Didn’t see it in person himself but the rumors that had spread throughout the Isle were so detailed, so vivid that ten year old Gil almost felt like he had been there which seemed so much worse to him than actually being there.

He checked everywhere he could think of. The dilapidated shack of an old pirate long dead that she would stay in any time her mother kicked her out. The rocky patch of the grey beach that she often went to when she was in one of her moods and wanted to be alone. He searched high and low until he finally found her alone in an alley near her mother’s shop. He could smell the rotten shrimp even before he got anywhere near her. Luckily enough, LeGume’s were made with stomachs of steel. And luckily enough for the girl he found alone and dejected in the alley, this son of Gaston, albeit not the smartest, was extremely loyal to his best friend.

“Go away!” Uma growled, wiping at her red eyes roughly before throwing a nearby empty bottle at him while sending him the nastiest glare she could manage.

Gil managed to easily dodge the bottle, barely batting an eye at the fact that she actually had been aiming for his head.

He got closer to her, frowning at the sudden realization that he never noticed how much shorter and smaller she was compared to him. Sure, Gil had recently gone through a growth spurt but she was tiny, just barely making it up to his chest. Her personality and confidence had just always seemed so large and reliable up until this point. Now...wow...he really couldn’t get over how small she looked.

“You have shrimp in your hair,” he pointed out reaching out to pull it from her hair. She slapped his hand away hard, taking a step back from him.

“How fucking dumb are you?” Uma yelled at him, kicking a nearby old and rotten crate until it collapsed. “Don’t you think I already know that?”

Gil saw that the act of destruction didn’t do anything to soothe her anger. Her rage. Her pain.

He felt helpless.

If it was a matter of strength or doing a small errand for her he knew explicitly what to do: he followed her, knowing Uma always was planning something. She was the brains, the beauty, the reason why they had both survived so long on the Isle and he was...well he had the brawn. But brawn was honestly a dime a dozen on the Isle. Replacing him wouldn’t be that hard...

“How could she do something like that? I thought we were partners! The baddest of the bad! I thought we were friends!” she cried out angrily shoving a nearby stack of crates, blinking rapidly against the tears in her eyes. Uma earned a yowl from one of Lucifer’s many kittens that had been perched on the crate before it jumped onto a nearby low roof, away from the rampaging girl. “Screw you!” she yelled after the cat. Suddenly, she turned her fury towards Gil. “And you! Why the hell are you still here? Where were you? Were you in on this the whole time? Thought it would be funny? Huh? HUH?!” she yelled at the boy,” pushing him hard with all her strength with each question.

At his unresponsiveness, her open palmed pushing turned to closed fisted hits that didn’t care where they landed.

“Why are you not fighting back!?” she growled angrily, braids flying, when the most he would do was let out a pained grunt. “Come on! Fight me! I’m already at the bottom of this fucking Isle food chain. Come at me!”

Gil shook his head. “No, I don’t want to, but you can keep hitting me,” he offered quietly, a stark contrast to her anger fueled rant. “My dad usually feels better after he’s done that when he has a rough day. You can do it too, if that’ll make you feel better. He usually goes until he knocks me out” he said earnestly, his expression showing that he wanted to please her, that he just wanted her to be alright.

Uma stared at him, the fire in her instantly simmering. She looked away from Gil’s eager to please face, disgusted with herself. Disgusted with the Isle. Disgusted with Mal and her backstabbing. Disgusted that hearing your friend was a punching bag for his dad wasn’t jarring as she knew it would be if they lived off this damn rock.

Uma took a deep breath but nearly gagged on the smell emitting from her hair. “Just...just help me take my braids out so I can watch this gunk out,” she murmured turning to head to the back entrance of the Chip Shop. “Then we’ll plan ways to get off this damn Isle and leave all these losers to rot behind.”

Gil grinned as he followed her, just happy that she was willing to include him in her plans. “Whatever you say, Shrim- I mean Uma!”

Rolling her eyes, Uma led the way and as always since they were six, Gil followed.

---

Auradon, Present

Coldness, that had nothing to do with the rain soaking into her clothes, sank deep into her bones.

“ If you’re against Mal, you’ve basically put a noose around your neck,” Jay’s voice taunted her thoughts.

The grey clouds above rolled across the sky with booming thunder and striking lightning as the only witnesses to her fury, her anger...her heartbreak…

“ Fuck Jay. Fuck Mal,” she thought with a lump in her throat as she imagined blue eyes as blue as the sea.

Why did the universe seem so intent on taking anything good from her life? Why was it that even amongst the villains she was a loser?

“Uma? Are you alright?” a concerned voice questioned above her just as the rain that had been pelting down on her suddenly stopped.

Jolting where she sat, Uma looked up into the worried too warm, too kind, (too naive) eyes of Prince Ben. A bright Auradon yellow umbrella was held above her head, covering her from the rain while the usually pristine blue and yellow of his suit began to quickly be drenched by the rain.

She didn’t answer. Wasn’t sure if she should answer, let alone how. Up until this point, Uma had tried to have limited contact with the prince. She avoided him mostly because his pretty in petty pink girlfriend Audrey was always glaring daggers at any of the Isle kids who dared got close to her precious Benny-Boo. However, If Uma was being perfectly honest though, the way that Ben looked at her, looked at all of them, like he could see the potential that her mother always denied her having, made her feel a twisting feeling in her gut that she didn’t even want to think of a guilt. (Villains never felt guilt, especially over princes.)

“Uma?” Ben questioned again when she still didn’t move let alone respond, eyes filling with more concern when she didn’t respond.

“I’m fine,” she managed to hoarsely get out, avoiding looking at him in hopes that he wouldn’t see how red her eyes were. She needed to get up, to get away from this too bright boy that she would inevitably have to deceive (from this too bright boy she may inevitably even play a role in his death). “You can go now,” she hissed, attempting to mask her discomfort when he continued to look at her with unfiltered concern.

Ben’s expression showed that he obviously didn’t believe her though.

“W-well,” he began sounding uncomfortable himself before his face lighted up in thought. “Let me walk you to wherever you were going at least,” he smiled easily. “I would be a bad host if I didn’t offer you some protection from the rain.”

Uma waited. Waited for him to laugh and mock her like she was so used to people on the Isle doing. Her shoulders slumped slightly when she realized that Beasty Boy was actually sincere. “You’re as sickeningly good as you look,” she sighed, the usual bite in her tone replaced with weariness.

The thunder above rumbled with a rumble of agreement.

Ben chuckled, still holding his umbrella carefully over her head as he gently guided her somewhere else, not seeming to mind at all the way his hair was plastered to his forehead.

“How are you settling into Auradon?” he asked inquisitively. “I haven’t really had the opportunity to check up on you since you’ve arrived and Harry unfortunately likes to keep you all to himself.”

Rolling her eyes, Uma crossed her arms over her chest, easily keeping pace with his much longer legs. “Well school sucks but there’s less mold on the food here and I haven’t had to deal with one of my mother’s beatings in weeks so I guess it’s not horrible.”

She managed to hold back a snicker at the way his smile faltered on his face at her words.

“You’re mother beat you?” Ben questioned, looking very awkward.

“It’s the Isle, Princey Boy. Everyone’s parents either beats them with an extra helping of mentally fuck you up. Besides, a beating you can walk off,” she continued, finding some sort of sick fascination in the way his face grew paler. “Starvation and infection unfortunately is a little bit harder when you’re living twenty years in a garbage strike, eating whatever you royals throw away.” She glared hard at the boy, gaze heavy with blame. “Then again, malnutrition and death probably aren’t as regular an occurrence here as it is on the Isle, aren’t they?”

“I-I didn’t know -” Ben responded. “How is that possible?”

“Because you didn’t care to know! I mean who ever thinks about the villains?” Uma cut him off, ready to go off as soon as the first excuse left his mouth. However, the prince surprised her.

“You’re right. I didn’t,” he said honestly. “I never really thought about what life could have been like over there. I don’t think anyone here has. But I don’t think that’s acceptable for anyone, villain or not.”

Uma scoffed, choosing to focus on the way that water squished in her shoes than on the way that Prince Ben was looking at her. It was a look that was somewhere between the blind faith that Gil always showed her and the intense genuine interest Harry never failed to give her. It was unnerving seeing the ways the gears were turning in Ben’s head but not knowing exactly what he was thinking.

Silence settled thickly between them as Ben walked her around seemingly aimlessly. Not for the first time, Uma wondered how in the Seven Seas she found herself in this awkward situation and if there was any way she could get out of it. She just wanted to change clothes and hide away in the makeshift security of the library. Pretending that Mal didn’t exist. That Jay didn’t exist. That she didn’t have to once again lose what she wanted just to survive in this shitty world.

“You know, you’re not afraid to be honest, even with the a future king,” Ben grinned brightly once again though the remnants of their previous conversation obviously still weighed on his mind. “Another reason why I suppose Harry likes to spend time with you.”

“More like stalking,” Uma murmured with no real heat.

“You’re important to Harry,” he shrugged with a grin growing wider, trying to hide his barely concealed giddiness when her cheeks darkened at his comment. “And I think it’s important to vet my fiance’s new girlfriend.”

Nearly tripping over her feet, Uma quickly spun around to face him, eyes wide.

“FIANCE?!?!” she snapped. Lightning flashed brightly above followed by a loud thunder clap. Uma ignored the way her heart felt like it was being stomped upon.

Barely a second passed before Ben broke out into laughter. Uma frowned, resisting the urge to stomp hard in the nearby muddy puddle and splash him. Instead she crossed her arms and demanded to know what was so funny.

“Sorry, sorry,” Ben apologized, a chuckle or two still escaping. “W-when Harry and I first met we were both really young and I had much longer hair,” he explained grin still wide on his face in nostalgia. “When our parents introduced us to each other, Harry apparently thought I was the prettiest girl he had ever seen and proposed to me right on the spot. When our parents had stopped laughing and explained that I was a boy he said just shrugged and said he would have a pretty boy as his husband then.”

Something in Uma’s chest twinged at the the thought of a little Harry, all wild, wind-swept dark hair and bright blue mischievous eyes taking a confused young prince’s hands in his and proclaiming his intent to marry.

“You know you just gave me perfect blackmail material against him,” Uma managed to smirk.

“And I hope you put it to good use,” Ben winked at her before his expression quickly sobered.

The rain around them seemed to lighten as Uma watched the little twitches his face made as he tried to make up his mind on whatever he was thinking. He was too easy to read, something that she realized she didn’t necessarily want to exploit at the moment.

“Listen Uma,” the prince sighed, looking at her with such an open and concerned expression she had to look away, fiddling with the sleeve of her rain and mud soaked jacket. “I know we haven’t had the chance to talk all that much but Harry never shuts up about you. Actually,” he chuckled slightly in thought, “I’ve never seen him like this with anyone else before. He really cares about you and maybe I shouldn’t say this, but he looks at you like...well, like the way I expect a person does when they’ve found their true love.”

“Or maybe it’s just gas,” Uma hissed, suddenly feeling angry, pushing down the realization that she wanted his words to be true. She wasn’t some pretty pink princess. Who was this boy to tell her this? To play with her heart that had been broken and torn and stomped on so many times by crushing tentacles and purple heeled boots and give her something that she had long ago learned to abhor: hope.

The sky that had once seemed to have lighten quickly became dark again.

Ben shook his head. “I’m not lying to you. You’re-”

“I’m just a good time , aren’t I?” Uma cut him off, moving away from underneath the protection of the umbrella to put some space between them, her glare not letting up even as rained rolled down from her hair to her skin. “Probably placed a bet with you and the rest of you uppity goody-doers.”

“Uma,” Ben said placing a gentle hand on her arm when she tried to move from underneath the umbrella. Though gentle, his eyes were hard and Uma was hit with realization that her sailor was cared for. People cared about Harry. The prince cared about Harry.

That realization made her both somber and jealous in a way that she had difficulty understanding.

“Harry cares a lot about you. Deeply. He wouldn’t have given you his mother’s necklace if that was case,” he nodded towards where he knew the necklace was hidden underneath her shirt. “His younger sister, CJ, wouldn’t be hounding me for details about you if he wasn’t head over heels. I mean,” he shrugged, letting go of her arm and seeming to struggle to find the right words. “When I look at you both...it just...it just fits. Does that make sense? Like you two were made for each other.”

“You’re talking about true love aren’t ya?” Uma groaned, nose wrinkling in distaste. Love was looked down upon the Isle. Love made you foolish and stupid. That was one thing her mother did teach her. “That shit doesn’t exist.”

“How can you be so sure?” he said with such a gentle smile that it made Uma nauseous to realize that he was being completely genuine. “I’m...I’m actually really jealous of Harry,” Ben continued, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, eyes growing dim for just a moment. “I-I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who I wholeheartedly wanted to give the moon and stars for.”

“Not even with Princess Sleeping Snobby?” Uma found herself asking, somewhat surprised to find that she was genuinely curious about his response.

Ben sighed as if he was reminded of a great burden. “Maybe at one point I think I did,” he said smiling at her sadly, a far off look in his eye. “But I’m actually not sure anymore,” he sighed before ushering her back under his umbrella. “Sometimes, I feel like the person I’m searching for is only real in my dreams. I mean, I thought- I thought if…” He stopped shaking his head. “Nevermind,” he smiled not at all convincingly.

She wanted to ask more, not to exploit him but because she was actually genuinely curious. She noticed, however, like walking out of a fog, that rain was no longer falling around them. This time, they were now inside the boy’s dorm, rain continuing to fall as a light sprinkle outside.

“I figured we could ask Harry for some spare towels,” Ben grinned down at her, a hint of his previous mischievousness in his eyes before she could stop him from knocking on the door.

They both paused when the door was pushed open on its own. Ben paused, worry evident before suddenly pushing further inside, calling Harry’s name, Uma at his heels. She held back a curse though when she bumped into the prince’s back when he suddenly stopped.

When she peered around the prince, she immediately wished she hadn’t, knowing she would never get the image out of her head of Harry lying on the ground, deathly pale with a familiar yellow bandana clutched in his hand.

---

On the Isle, 10 years ago

When they were six, when she jumped into the filthy water that surrounded the Isle after his brothers tied him up to the heaviest pieces of cement, she hadn't been trying to save him.

To be brutally honest, she didn't care one clam if one of the few legitimate sons of Gaston drowned or not. There were plenty of Gaston bastards on the Isle to replace the littlest LeGume runt.

However, Mal had dared her to. (Instigated her. Taunted.) The half fae had guessed that the cement would pull the young boy to the deepest of the deep murky depths of the surrounding waters and stated that she didn't believe that Uma was big or strong enough to swim down and retrieve the boy, despite her mer-folk lineage.

“ At least I know how to swim, Dragon Breath,” Ursula’s daughter had teased in that way that only close companions, friends, could. That way that had no real bite but underlining affection that was only still present in the youngest of the Isle before it was beaten out of them. (Neither of then realized how in four years that nickname would be said as a curse and with the force of a storm threatening to rage on the horizon...)

So Uma swam, barely breaking a sweat as she reached the water’s bottom where the youngest son’s of Gaston struggles were beginning to slow, gaze growing heavy, the amount of bubbles leaving his mouth diminishing.

For a moment, Uma thought about leaving him and just grabbing the silly yellow bandana he always covered his head with at least for proof that she actually did make it to the bottom of the water. Letting him drown would probably be the nicest thing she could do for the boy, anyway. After all, life on the Isle had no place for one so weak…

She was just about to swim away after grabbing his bandana when a slightly larger hand grasped her own. For a brief second as she looked back at the boy, their eyes met and something that Uma hadn’t realized was untied within her knotted.

Mine , was the only word she could put to the feeling that forced her to cut the ropes of the then once again unconscious boy before kicking her legs with a strength not common in a girl of her size until they broke the water surface.

And as she pulled Gil back to shore, seaweed stuck in her hair and Gil coughing up water along the way, Mal watched from the safety of dry land with narrowed eyes, clenched fists, and raging jealousy held within her tiny frame…

Mal rolled her eyes as she stepped back as Uma dragged the nearly drowned boy onto land, watching as the teal hair girl nearly glowed with smug satisfaction from the boy’s praise after he had the chance to cough up all the water.

Mal noticed the boy’s signature yellow bandana had been dropped on the wet sand at some point, forgotten by its owner. She picked it up, smiling wickedly to herself as she shoved it in her pocket for a later time.

“If you can’t take it,” she thought, continuing to watch as Uma pretended to hate the attention the Gaston boy was giving her. “Break it…”

#disney descendants #edream93 fanfic #edream93 fanfiction #i'm hooked on all these feelings #harry of auradon #uma descendants #ben descendants #mal descendants #jay descendants #harry hook #uma #ben #mal #jay #huma #harry hook x uma #uma and gil friendship

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whimsicaldragonette · 7 years ago

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Some Other Metal Than Earth (Part 1 of 5)

Summary: Draco Malfoy is bored out of his mind in his eighth year at Hogwarts. After a prank gone wrong, he discovers that Harry's life isn't really that much better than his own. As they try to keep their friends from realizing that they've somehow swapped minds, they find it's easier to spend time together. Becoming friends comes naturally. But are their friends really as fooled as they believe? Complete at 5 chapters; will post a chapter a day all this week as a birthday present to myself.

Part 1 (You are here)~ Part 2~ Part 3~ Part 4~ Part 5~

-Part 1: Monday-

A fly buzzed around the windows of the new Potions classroom, hurling itself futilely against the glass. Draco found himself wishing he could do the same. Salazar, he was bored. He sighed, propping his head on his hand, fighting to keep his eyelids from drooping. His attention wandered from the lecture again and he found himself watching dust motes dancing in the beams of golden late-afternoon light.

Thank Merlin this was his last class of the day. Staying awake through double Potions right before dinner was turning out to be nigh impossible. Especially on days like this when the sun had heated the room and turned it stifling.

Professor Slughorn’s voice droned on, listing the properties of something-or-other in painfully exhaustive detail. Merlin. The man was worse than Binns. Nearly, anyway. At least Binns could be relied upon to turn a blind eye to the eighth-years’ increasing absences. Draco had been ducking out of History of Magic for weeks now, joining most of his classmates out on the grounds.

Well, not joining, exactly. He usually joined Blaise and Pansy for a walk around the grounds, steadfastly ignoring the Gryffindors as they ran about in their usual madcap fashion or lounged in the sun. Sometimes Daphne tagged along, hauling Theo with her, but Draco was indifferent to their presence. He was only close with Blaise and Pansy, anymore. Greg had chosen to enter an apprenticeship in lieu of returning for eighth year, and Vince…

Draco tried not to think about Vince.; it hurt too much. There was an empty spot on his left, a bit like a missing tooth, and it was so hard to keep from prodding at it. Vince had brought it on himself, gotten in too far for Draco to pull him out again; but he still felt like he’d failed him.

He sat as far from the fire as possible now, leaving the cozy chairs for the irritatingly fearless Gryffindors. He felt his face pull into the familiar sneer, but he didn’t have the energy to keep up the expression. He felt the smallest flicker of jealousy; he’d loved the crackle and hiss of a cheerful fire, once. But now all he could see in the dancing flames was the fear in Vince’s eyes as he fell, burning, burning…

The other students ignored them, mostly, as they strolled around the lake. It rankled a bit. He could do with some brawling, but no one thought them worth fighting anymore. Not even Potter, who seemed content to run about with the others.

The fly buzzed past his head, avoiding his absent-minded swat and bashing into the other window. Draco tuned back into the lecture for a moment. Salazar. Slughorn was talking about Mugwort, now. He knew all this — they’d learned it years ago. Severus’ slow drawl returned unbidden, overlaying Slughorn’s higher, more nasal tones.

He could just walk out. Grab his things and— But, no. He’d have to cross in front of Slughorn to reach the door, and there was no way the man’s sharp eyes would miss him.

The screech of dozens of chair legs scraping across flagstones jolted Draco from his daze and he jumped. His eyes flitted to the clock — there was still nearly an hour left of class. Was Slughorn letting them out early? Then he noticed that the others were queueing up at the supply cupboard and grinned. Labs had been few and far between under Slughorn’s tutelage. Finally. The chance to have a bit of fun.

Draco absently gathered his supplies, wondering how best to relieve his boredom. He hesitated, hand hovering by the jar of powdered lacewing. Just a pinch would react with the mugwort and cause a decent explosion. He’d seen Finnegan do it a few times. The first by accident, the others… well. Finnegan was an enthusiastic pyromaniac. Draco tried to avoid him, as a rule. It had less to do with his infuriating Gryffindor-ness and more to do with safety.

He gazed at the small jar in his hand, wondering. How best to go about this? The sound of approaching footsteps startled him, and he hurriedly replaced the jar as another student entered the dim cupboard, blinking owlishly behind ridiculous lenses.

Draco felt his lips curl into a slow smirk. Congratulations, Potter, he thought. You just volunteered to make things interesting. He shivered in delicious anticipation, wondering whether to make his meddling known. No — there was always the chance that Granger would stick her over-large nose into it and spoil his fun. He’d just have to content himself with the knowledge that he’d been the one to cause their mishap. Though, knowing Potter, it wasn’t likely that he’d cast the blame on anyone else. History had proved that if there was anything he could blame on Draco he would, with relish.

“Potter,” he said, raising a brow as he eyed the other boy. He looked so tired lately, as if all the fight had drained out of him, leaving him an empty shell. He racked his brains for an insult that would knock Potter out of that stupor. “Granger actually trusts you to get the ingredients?” he asked, shaking his head in mock alarm. “Surely she realizes she’s jeopardizing her grades?”

Potter’s eyes flashed warningly, and Draco tensed in anticipation of finally getting a rise out of him, but the fight drained out of his face as Draco watched. It was wrong. He’d thought he’d be relieved at not being tormented or shunned by Potter this year, but this was just wrong. Potter was supposed to be brimming with rage and fire and passion. Draco felt his stomach turn over with a strange, slow flop, but ignored it. It wasn’t important just now. Potter was important. Sparking Potter’s fire was important.

Potter just shrugged, world-weary and listless, and quietly asked Draco to pass the murtlap. Draco didn’t think. His hand shot out and he snatched the illegibly-labeled bottle of lacewing he’d been eying earlier. He held his breath, hoping Potter wasn’t watching, that he wouldn’t notice the switch.

Potter didn’t look at him, just nodded as he accepted the bottle and moved back toward the light of the classroom.

Draco blinked, watching him walk away. He was a mess of roiling emotions, of frustration at Potter not responding to his taunts, relief at not being punched in the face, anticipation for what was to come. He shivered, letting the anticipation take hold, then grabbed the last jar he needed and hurried back to his seat. He didn’t want to miss the imminent explosion.

“Draco?” Pansy asked warily, as he returned to their desk with the ingredients. “What happened?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing.”

She scooted away from him, the legs of her chair scraping across the flagstones. “Well, whatever it is, don’t get me involved. I’ve not had any detentions yet this term and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Draco shrugged. He didn’t want her help anyway. He wanted the satisfaction of finally getting a rise out of Potter all to himself.

Nothing happened for several minutes. The students measured and mixed, murmuring about the changing appearance of their potions and taking notes. Draco left the majority of brewing to an exasperated Pansy. He was too busy watching Potter adding ingredients to his cauldron.

Potter picked up one of the last jars left on his desk, tipping it over the gently bubbling cauldron. Draco leaned forward, trying to see if it was the lacewing.

“Draco! What on earth are you—”

He waved her off, not taking his eyes from Potter, ignoring her heavy sigh.

It was the lacewing, he was sure of it. The powder was tipping forward, right at the lip of the jar, and—

“Harry!” Granger lunged at him, trying to knock away his hand, but she was too late. Draco stood up abruptly and moved closer, watching in delight as the powder fell into the cauldron, settling for a moment on the sludge-brown surface — wait, Draco thought, feeling an icy finger of dread creep up his spine, it’s not supposed to be that color, is it? — and then they melted into it, spreading a golden lacy layer atop it, and he stared, fascinated. He’d never seen anything quite like it.

And then everything happened at once.

Granger’s grasping hand knocked Harry’s arm. The rest of the lacewing fell into the potion. For a second, nothing happened, and then it sucked inward and erupted with a sickening glop all over Potter and himself.

Granger escaped the muck, tumbling backward into Weasley’s arms, and Draco scowled as he wiped the brown goo from his face. It really wasn’t fair, how all of his schemes ended up backfiring. But even that frustration was familiar and oddly comforting.

Professor Slughorn approached, waving his arms in alarm, and hovered over Potter, turning occasionally to scowl darkly at Draco, then finally bundled them both off to the hospital wing.

Pomfrey listened to his rant, seemingly quietly amused, and then sent Slughorn away and turned to examine him and Potter.

“Well, boys,” she said, after running several tests, “you appear to have escaped harm this time. I feel I really ought to thank you for livening up my afternoon. It’s been duller than a blast-ended skrewt’s love life here lately.”

Draco snorted in amusement, surprised at the wan conspiratorial grin Potter flashed him. It faded quickly, though, leaving Draco feeling oddly empty.

“Come along Potter,” he drawled, “wouldn’t want you to miss dinner on my account. You’re far too thin as it is.”

Potter studied him, an odd expression on his face, and Draco racked his brain for an insult to hurl at him, just to put them back on familiar ground. But his mind had gone curiously blank, and eventually, he turned with a sniff and dramatic whirl of his robes that did little to reassure him as he stalked toward the Great Hall.

Why could Potter still get under his skin like no one else? From the moment they’d met he’d felt like Draco’s personal tormentor. His eyes darted to Potter’s face, quite without his permission. Somehow he’d caught up to Draco, and now they were walking in step, the squeak of Potter’s worn-out trainers mingling with the crisp slap of expensive leather on stone.

Draco grit his teeth. Potter was smiling at him, that lopsided smile that always sent Draco’s stomach into slow flips, though it wasn’t usually directed at him.

Draco pressed his lips together firmly, determined not to smile back. He didn’t know what Potter was doing, but they were not friends, and he wasn’t going to let his guard down that easily. Potter, seemingly reading his mind, shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other, and turned away as the entered the Great Hall, veering toward the Gryffindor table and leaving Draco feeling as if the stones under his feet weren’t quite as solid as they appeared.

“So,” Blaise asked as he sat down, nudging Draco in the ribs. “What happened?”

Draco frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t be coy, Draco,” Pansy drawled, “it doesn’t suit you. You and Potter have been gone for ages.” She raised one carefully stenciled brow, and Draco sighed.

“Drop it, Pansy. Nothing happened. Pomfrey just insisted on running as many tests as she could think of.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And, what were the results of your little… experiment?”

Draco shrugged. “Nothing. A bit disappointing, really. I’d hoped for an explosion.”

“From Potter or his cauldron? Oh, don’t look at me like that. You’ve been itching for a fight with him since we got back.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Draco rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the stiffness that had been building there, and turned his attention to his food. The only way to shut Pansy up was to ignore her so thoroughly that she gave up. After several minutes of pointedly focusing on his plate, she huffed in annoyance and turned her back to him, joining Blaise and Daphne in some inane conversation Draco had no interest in.

It was like it had never happened — those last, horrible years. They were all pretending so very hard that he thought some of them had started to believe it. He didn’t want to forget it, didn’t think he could. Maybe it was different for them. They hadn’t let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Hadn’t tried to kill Dumbledore. Hadn’t had the sodding Dark Lord living in their home, commandeering their bedroom to house some of his more loyal followers.

As usual, the thought of Greyback and Aunt Bella left Draco’s mouth tasting of ash. He shoved his plate away, suddenly unable to stomach even the thought of food, trying to shove the memories away with it.

“Excuse me,” he said, not caring that he had interrupted Pansy mid-sentence. “I’m not feeling well, after all. Think I’ll go sleep it off.”

“Draco? You don’t look so good — should we take you to the hospital wing?”

He waved her off, needing to get away from the food, the chatter, the overwhelming press of people in the Great Hall. “No. No, I just— I just need to rest, I think.”

He turned, stumbling a little as he hurried out of the room, wanting nothing more than to fall into bed, sneak another sip from the vial he kept under his mattress and let the arms of Dreamless Sleep claim him.

Part 1 (You are here)~ Part 2~ Part 3~ Part 4~ Part 5~

You can also read on AO3, FF, Wattpad

#drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #eighth year #bodyswap #mindswap #hogwarts eighth year #my writing #my fic #some other metal than earth #drarry squad #slytherdornet

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sparklingtg · 5 years ago

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Reflective Journal of Consumption 1

Week One

October 20th Sunday

Brunch & Cafe in Les Vraies Richesses

Dinner Chicking

Green tea extract

For me, Sunday is a no-class day, but I decided to go to my favourite cafe in Sherbrooke. I bought a turkey sandwich and a cup of coffee. As for dinner, I ate Chicking with Katrina because she said she ate Chicking several months ago, that was one of her great eating experiences. However, after I ate my combo, I thought it tasted fine. The last item I bought was a bottle of Green tea extract. The introduction of this item says it helps in weight management.

I noticed that the container of Chicking is plastic. That reminds me that I use plastic products every day. If you buy coffee from Tim Hortons, Starbucks, or a bus stop, do you notice lids? Most of them are made of plastics. I just used a recycled paper lid once in China. Indeed, plastic products bring convenient in our life. There are seven kinds of plastic products we usually use, and I find a picture to introduce them. Although plastic products are divided into different levels, it does not mean that they are safe. On the contrary, they threaten animals’ and humans’ health and lives. From the picture, we can see that plastic products will be out of shape when they suffer from high temperatures. Then, the toxic materials will come out. In addition, some animals die because of plastic products. For example, birds get caught in plastic bags and suffocated. Marine animals think plastic products are food, and they eat and be choked to death.

However, before we find an alternative material to replace plastic, classifying and recycling them might be a sound choice.

youtube

Plastics 101 | National Geographic

youtube

Recycling plastics – Resource efficiency with an optimized sorting method

Reference:

National Geographic. (2018, May 18). Plastics 101 | National Geographic. Retrieved from https://youtu.be/ggh0Ptk3VGE

Rochman, C., Browne, M., Halpern, B., Hentschel, B., Hoh, E., Karapanagioti, H., . . . Thompson, R. (2013). Classify plastic waste as hazardous. Nature, 494(7436), 169-171. doi:10.1038/494169a

VDI Zentrum Ressourceneffizienz. (2018, September 27). Recycling plastics – Resource efficiency with an optimized sorting method. Retrieved from https://youtu.be/I_fUpP-hq3A

October 22nd Tuesday

Grocery: milk, yogurt, egg, cocoa powder, vegetable, fruit and lotus biscuit

McDonald’s

The cocoa powder and lotus biscuit were used for baking lotus brownie. Local snacks or dessert are too sweet for me, so I’d like to bake in leisure time. Also, I believe that baking gives me time to think or stay with myself without any words. I am a person with performance goals, kind of. I care about my performance in other people’s eyes. Also, I enjoy the moment when some eat the food I made or when he or she like my baking food.

McDonald’s is the choice when I am too lazy to cook. However, if there are KFC, McDonald’s and Burger King around my home, I definitely choose Burger King. Because at the same price, the hamburgers and fries in Burger King are bigger than those in KFC and McDonald’s.

I remember that someone used McDonald’s hamburgers and fries to experiment.

The audience is shocked when they watch this video because the fries of McDonald’s changes little when they are put in a jar for several weeks. I have a similar experience. Once I bought a hamburger and put it in the refrigerator, then I forgot it. One week later, when I cleaned my fridge, I found it. It is still a complete burger. However, I cannot refuse the burgers’ invitation when I am hungry. I try reducing the times I eat those junk food, especially when I see the nutrition and calorie table.

youtube

The Decomposition of McDonald's Burgers and Fries

Add a BBC News on 1st November about a 10-year-old McDonald’s cheeseburger

https://www.bbc.com/news/blogs-trending-50262547

The last McDonald’s restaurant in Iceland has been closed for ten years. The cheeseburger and the fries in this picture were bought ten years ago. I prefer to call them “Zombie Burger and Fries”, although McDonald’s says this phenomenon happens because the burger and fries live without moisture.

Reference:

DebunkerSam. (2010, August 29). The decomposition of McDonald’s burgers and fries. Retrieved from https://youtu.be/8uHxRwQqWFo

October 23rd Wednesday

Nike air force 1

In one year, I usually buy one or two pairs of shoes. I like shoes, but I cannot afford them, so I only buy the one I love so much. When my friend recommended this pair of shoes to me, some words appeared in my brain: I need them. My parents cannot understand that because they are not interested in shoes. When my mom finds a bag she likes, I will see this bag at home the next day. We have a special ability with money to make our dreams come true. Money and desires allow us to be magicians. However, it may lead to spending addiction.

Sometimes I cannot refuse the recommendations from my friends. In Chinese, we call it “安利 (an li)”. When my friends describe one product, they introduce the benefits, wonderful appearance and proper cost-effective, which impede my critical thinking. In China, online living shopping is popular. One of the most popular hosts is Jiaqi Li. He sold five thousand products in three minutes. Most of the audience is female. He uses “Oh my god” and “all girls” as the hook to introduce the benefits of products. Coupons and discounts lure consumers. Before living shopping is over, you may buy something. Sometimes you buy something you will not use. Why? Why do we buy something useless?

There are three reasons: 1) improving self-esteem; 2) releasing pressure; 3) reducing anxiety and improving mood.

Some people prefer to compare with others when they buy luxury things, and they want to show off, which helps them to improve their self-esteem. Moreover, there is an Ebates survey shows that “63.9% of women and 39.8% of men shop to improve their mood”. Also, retail therapy is a consumers’ behaviour, they use is to control their emotions and improve their mood (Atalay & Meloy, 2011). Although Atalay and Meloy (2011) show that there is no significant negative response from retail therapy, I do not believe that retail therapy is an effective, long-term solution.

Reference:

Ebates survey: More than half (51.8%) of Americans engage in retail therapy-- 63.9% of women and 39.8% of men shop to improve their mood. (2013, ). Benzinga.Com.

Atalay, A. S., & Meloy, M. G. (2011). Retail therapy: A strategic effort to improve mood. Psychology & Marketing, 28(6), 638-659. doi:10.1002/mar.20404

October 24th Thursday

American visa fee

Soft drink: Canada Dry

Last Christmas, my uncle’s family went to San Francisco for vacation. I did not have an America visa, so I stayed at home and had Christmas alone. After they came back, they told me their incredible experience in the Yosemite national park that makes me jealous, so I apply for an American visa.

I love sparkling water, and sometimes I drink soft drinks. Through checking my statement, I found that each week, I spend about eight dollars on sparkling waters or soft drinks. Only this year, I want to abandon the habit of drinking soft drinks three times. The longest one is forty-two days. There are so many videos on YouTube to demonstrate how harmful to bodies when people drink coke. When I watch those videos, I changed soft drinks to sparkling water because there is no calorie in sparkling water. I hope that I could abandon soft drinks and sparkling water in two months.

October 25th Friday and October 27th Sunday

Tim Hortons: Coffee

For me, coffee is not a necessity, but if I have classes or I have to complete assignments, coffee is a sound choice for me to concentrate on tasks. When I was in China, there is a Starbucks on my way to work. I spent lots of money on coffee and other products (such as membership cards, mugs, and food). I had almost sixteen Starbucks membership card, and one card costs ninety-eight RMB (about 19 CAD). Each card involves five coupons (one free breakfast coffee, one free coffee, and three coupons for second cup free). Also, each card has a unique theme, and its fascinating appearance attracted me. Now, I regret that I spent money on those cards because they forced and engaged me to spend more on coffee and other products in Starbucks.

Then, when I came to Canada, I found Tim Hortons. One cup of coffee in Tim Hortons cost 2.26 CAD (after tax), while it costs 6.26 CAD in Starbucks. However, Starbucks has more types of coffee than Tim Hortons.

In Sherbrooke, there are only two Starbucks. It takes me forty minutes to arrive at the nearest one by bus. Fortunately, the distance helps me to save money.

0 notes

useyourrwords · 6 years ago

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Down the TBR Hole // To Read Soon – Part 4/4

Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming.

The optimist in me right now is Dory, the realist who is impatient and likes to drop things before finishing them is Marlin.

This is the last post for my To Read Soon Shelf so that’s something…

But I still have 3 more posts for my To Read Eventually shelf!

And then I can do my Down The TBR Hole wrap up! I’ve never been so desperately excited to be able to do a post!

It does not help that as I’m writing this I am fucking tired as shit because I’m currently working more shifts than normal and my brain fog is in high gear the last few days! Thanks chronic illness!

Hopefully dumping a bunch of books will give me the energy I need to get through to the finish line!

If you would like to buy any of the following books please consider using my Book Depository Affliate link!

Added November 2017

1.│Coffee Boy│Austin Chant│

│ I added this because…A trans story actually written by a trans person! This is the shit I want. Stay or Go? Moved to my LGBTQIAP+ shelf!

2.│Happily Ever Awkward│The H.E.A. Files #1│T.L. Callies│ I added this because…They had me at pirates. Stay or Go? Go! Pirates aren’t enough!

3.│A Curious Beginning│Veronica Speedwell #1│Deanna Raybourn│ I added this because…This sounded interesting! Stay or Go? Go!

4.│Call Me by Your Name│André Aciman│

│ I added this because…Okay, so here’s the thing: I watched the film first and boy I had some really mixed feelings as I shared in my post of films I watched while on my first hiatus. The age gap just makes me super uncomfortable. Stay or Go? Go! I’m sorry, don’t come for me.

5.│The Girls Who Drank the Moon│Kelly Barnhill│ I added this because…This sounds so stinking cute! Stay or Go? Stay!

6.│Adulthood is a Myth│Sarah Anderson│ I added this because…Adulthood is a myth! Stay or Go? Moved to my Graphic Novels shelf!

7.│Burial Rites│Hannah Kent│ I added this because…Everybody has read it! Everybody has loved it! Stay or Go? Stay!

Down The TBR Hole

Down the TBR Hole // To Read Soon – Part 1/4

Down the TBR Hole // – To Read Soon – Part 2/4

Down the TBR Hole // To Read Soon – Part 3/4

Added December 2017

8.│The Falconer│The Falconer #1│ I added this because…I follow the author on Twitter and this honestly sounds like it could be a fun time! Stay or Go? Stay!

9.│The Outsiders│S.E. Hinton│ I added this because…Story time! So this is a classic. I know. I don’t get along with classics. I watched the film in High School, though I don’t really remember much of it. The reason it’s on my TBR at all is because one night I was talking to my parents’ friend about books and he said he would read one of my faves (I spent ages trying to figure out which one might be the closest to his taste) if I read one of his. I chose the Six of Crows for him to read (he had it for nearly a year before I demanded it back I AM NOT BITTER!) He chose The Outsiders. Only he couldn’t fucking remember the name of it and it took me hours to figure out the name of what book he was referring to because I knew exactly which book he was talking about but do you think I could remember the name either??? Stay or Go? Go! He hasn’t read Six of Crows so I feel no duty to read a classic I’m not interested in.

10.│The Law of Moses│The law of Moses #1│Amy Harmon│

│ I added this because…This book sounds intense and messy! Stay or Go? Go! This one is too hard for me to get a hold of!

11.│Bloodline│Claudia Gray│ 12.│Lost Stars│Claudia Gray│ 13.│Leia: Princess of Alderaan│Claudia Gray│ I added this because…I was super late to the Star Wars train. The day of the Midnight screening for The Force Awakens, my best friend asked me if I want to go. I didn’t know anything at all about it! Neither did she. So we read a summary of each film and off we went. Now I love this film series! I added these books because I heard they were the best of the Star Wars books. Stay or Go? Go! I think this is a series I prefer to just watch the films for.

14.│The Confessions of Young Nero│Nero #1│Margaret George│ I added this because…Ancient Rome has always fascinated me! Stay or Go? Go!

Added January 2018

15.│Foolish Hearts│Emma Mills│

│ I added this because…Strong female friendships! Stay or Go? Moved to my TBR LGBTQIAP+ shelf!

16.│Rebel Queen│Michelle Moran│

│ I added this because…This sounds super kick-ass! Stay or Go? Stay!

17.│Fresh Ink│Lamar Giles│

│ I added this because…I love diverse anthologies! Stay or Go? Moved to my TBR Anthologies Shelf

18.│UNSUB│UNSUB #1│Meg Gardiner│ I added this because…A Thriller inspired by the Zodiac Killer? Sign me the fuck up! Stay or Go? Stay!

19.│The Fourth Monkey│4MK Thriller #1│J.D. Barker│ I added this because…Krystin’s review. Stay or Go? Stay!

20.│The Dollmaker of Krakow│R.M. Romero│ I added this because…What the actual fuck?? This sounds crazy weird! Stay or Go? Stay!

21.│Rookies on Love│Tavi Gevinson│ I added this because…Poetry anthology! Stay or Go? Go! Too hard for me to get a hold of.

22.│Jane Steele│Lyndsay Faye│ I added this because…Does it count as reading Jane Eyre if you read a gothic retelling of it instead? Stay or Go? Go!

23.│Cranky Ladies of History│Tehani Croft Wessely│

│ I added this because…They had me at the title! Stay or Go? Moved to my TBR Anthologies shelf!

Grey Reads

Book Review // Girl Made of Stars – I Am Broken

Grey Reads // Everything’s On Fire and I Couldn’t Be Happier – Girls of Paper and Fire

Grey Reads // Bloody Moors & Candy Castles – The Wayward Children 2 & 3

Added February 2018

24.│The Alchemist│Paulo Coelho│ I added this because…I couldn’t tell you. Stay or Go? Go! WHY DO I KEEP ADDING CLASSICS WHEN I KNOW I WON’T EVER READ THEM????

25.│The False Prince│The Ascendance Trilogy #1│Jennifer A. Nielson│ I added this because…More middle grade please! Stay or Go? Stay!

26.│The Thousand Names│The Sadow Campaigns #1│Django Wexler│ I added this because…Again, I couldn’t tell you. Stay or Go? Go! Why do I keep adding genres I hardly ever read??? One adult fantasy at a time. Or maybe 5…

27.│NOS4A2│Joe Hill│ I added this because…I thought it was because of Krystin’s review. But that doesn’t make sense because she rated it 3 1/2 stars and I don’t think I would have added it because of that rating. Who knows! I sure don’t! Stay or Go? Go!

28.│Where Futures End│Parker Peevyhouse│ I added this because…At first I thought “Why the fuck did I add a book with an average rating of 3.48???“ Because that sure as shit doesn’t sound like me but then I looked further down and I’m pretty sure it was because of Elise’s 5 star review. Stay or Go? Stay!

29.│Don’t Call Us Dead: Poems│Danez Smith│

│ I added this because…I’ve seen Smith’s poetry on Facebook and they’re really good. Stay or Go? Move to TBR Poetry!

Added March 2018

30.│Speak Easy, Speak Love│McKelle Geroge│ I added this because…I love Shakespeare retellings because Shakespeare is so extra and dramatic but I can’t understand what the fuck he’s saying in his own words. Stay or Go? Stay!

31.│Ace of Shades│The Shadow Game #1│Amanda Foody│

│ I added this because…‘A book about dangerous gangs and gambling, with a bi young man of color as one of the protagonists?‘ Stay or Go? Move to my TBR LGBTQIAP+ Shelf.

32.│Bone Music│Burning Girl #1│Christopher Rice│ I added this because…It’s about the not-so-daughter of a serial killing couple??? Ummm yeah! Stay or Go? Stay!

33.│Akarnae│The Medoran Chronicles #1│Lynette Noni│ I added this because…Catorina @ Little Book Owl talks about this series quite a bit on her Youtube channel! Stay or Go? Go!

34.│The Only Harmless Great Thing│Brooke Bolander│ I added this because…A short story about radiation poisoning. Stay or Go? Move to my TBR Novella Shelf.

Grey’s Shelves

Bookish Bits // Series TBR – Extra Down the TBR Hole

Bookish Bits // Library Love – 2018

Bookish Bits // I’m Finally Participating in A Readathon and Challenge! – Late-A-Thon + January Jam Jar

Added April 2018

35.│Surviving and Thriving with an Invisible Chronic Illness│Ilana Jacqueline│

│ I added this because…I’ve got a chronic illness (Fibromyalgia). Stay or Go? Move to my TBR Non-Fic Shelf!

36.│The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender│Leslye Walton│

│ I added this because…Apparently this book is very true to it’s title. It is both strange and beautiful. Stay or Go? Stay!

37.│The Accidental Bad Girls│Maxine Kaplan│

│ I added this because…Elise’s review. Stay or Go? Stay!

38.│Tiger Lily│Jodi Lynn Anderson│ I added this because…Peter Pan retelling! Stay or Go? Go!

39.│Small Spaces│Sarah Epstein│

│ I added this because…Cait’s @ Paper Fury review. Stay or Go? Stay!

40.│The Last Black Unicorn│Tiffany Haddish│

│ I added this because…I fucking love Tiffany Haddish. Stay or Go? Move to my TBR Non-Fic Shelf!

41.│Where’d You go, Bernadette│Maria Emple│ I added this because…Sounded like a good oddball read. Stay or Go? Go!

42.│Emergency Contact│Mary H.K. Choi│

│ I added this because…LOOK AT THAT FUCKING GORGEOUS COVER!!!! Stay or Go? Go!

43.│You’ll Miss Me When I’m Gone│Rachel Lynn Solomon│ I added this because…This sounded quite interesting! Stay or Go? Go!

44.│Who is Very Kelly│Rosalie Knecht│

│ I added this because…This sounds like a wild ride! Stay or Go? Moved to the LGBTQIAP+ Shelf.

Added May 2018

45.│Amal Unbound│Aisha Saeed│

│ I added this because…This sounds like a great book that highlights the need for change in society! Stay or Go? Stay!

46.│Barbed Wire Heart│Tess Sharpe│

│ I added this because…If this is anything like Far From You then I’m going to love it! Stay or Go? Moved to my TBR LGBTQIAP+ shelf!

47.│The Lies of Locke Lamora│Gentleman Bastard #1│Scott Lynch│ I added this because…This is meant to be great for quenching that Six of Crows thirst! Stay or Go? Stay!

48.│When Reason Breaks│Cindy L. Rodriguez│

│ I added this because…Sounded interesting enough. Stay or Go? Go!

Grey Quotes

Beautiful Quotes // Beastly Bones – You Need to Read This Series!

Beautiful Quotes // Ghostly Echoes – The Quotes Hit Hard in This One

Beautiful Quotes // The Dire King – No, It Can’t Be Over

Added June 2018

49.│The Secret History│Donna Tartt│

│ I added this because…I’ve seen a lot of posts about this book around Tumblr. Stay or Go? Moved to my TBR LGBTQIAP+ Shelf.

50.│Always Forever Maybe│Anica Mrose Rissi│

│ I added this because…Eh. It sounded intriguing Stay or Go? Go!

51.│Sleeping Giants│Themis Files #1│Sylvain Neuvel│ I added this because…This sounds so good and everyone is raving about it! Stay or Go? Stay!

52.│All the Ever Afters│Danielle Teller│ I added this because…Cinderella retelling! Stay or Go? Go!

53.│Getting Over Garrett Delaney│Abby McDonald│

│ I added this because…I fucking love the author’s YA thrillers under a different pen name. Stay or Go? Stay!

Added July 2018

54.│I Had Such Friends│Meg Gatland-Veness│

│ I added this because…I saw this in Big W and it looked interesting, but not enough to buy. Stay or Go? Go!

55.│Spinning Silver│Naomi Novik│ I added this because…I have heard nothing but great things! Stay or Go? Stay!

Top Ten Tuesday

Top Ten Tuesday // My Back List Books – I’m Publicly Shaming Myself

Top Ten Tuesday // Audible and Overdrive Are My Lords & Saviors – My Audiobook TBR

Top Ten Tuesday // Screen Adaptations I LOVED, Ones I NEED & And Ones I NEED NOW – Page to Screen

I am both tired and disappointed in myself.

I only managed to get rid of 22, while I kept 20 and just moved 13!

I wish I could say I cared that much about my failure, but alas, I’m so exhausted that I do not!

I’m just so glad my To Read Soon Shelf is over and there’s only one more shelf to go through!!! I can see the finish line! I’m almost there!

What books are on your current TBR? Any books here that I should hurry up and read? How do you motivate yourself to cross the finish line for things that have lost their appeal?

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