There She Goes Again . . .

That time of month again...

2008-04-22T23:15:56Z

I made this. And am pretty proud of it, lol.

"If you want something said, ask a man,
if you want something done, ask a woman."
(Margaret Thatcher)

Hillary for President!

so not fierce

2008-03-06T04:03:39Z

Jillian should've won.

That is all.

poem.

2008-02-06T22:32:06Z

just something that's been in my head:

when i think of beauty

when i think of beauty
i hear the click-click-click of my grandmother's heels.
her pink lipstick on wrinkled lips,
from which springs a hesitant
"do you like what i'm wearing?"
the question resounding of a teenage girl
desperate for attention
the moment of apprehension
before the compliment makes her beam,
and later:
eyes shining in conversation
hands wildly gesticulating,
voice dancing
is what i think of
when i think of beauty.

when i think of beauty
i smell my mother's j'adore dior perfume.
mixed in with hairspray, conditioner and the dusty smell of rarely-worn velvet.
my mother in a ballgown, glamorous and gorgeous,
letting me zip up her dress and approve of her outfit,
and still taking time
to hassle me about school work
and college choices
and the perpetual mess of my room.
understated elegance
loving reminders and
dinner left out for me in the kitchen
is what i think of
when i think of beauty.

when i think of beauty
i taste vanilla-roisbos tea, brownies and chickpea curry.
my best friends, in pajamas, no make-up
on sleepy friday nights
drained from the week, silences longer than conversations
a comfortable hum over food and movies.
stretching out on a bed,
noses nearly touching
breaths mingling
not much left to say
as the world spins on without us for the night.
blooming zits and shadows under eyes
laughter, hugs and now-familiar smells
the strength of mutual, silent understanding
is what i think of
when i think of beauty.

when i think of beauty
i feel sticky palms and silky puffs of hair.
children, babies, arms wide open
as they wrap themselves around me
gurgling laughter, dirt and spit up
a baby's wide eyes when he spots me
buck-toothed, dimpled smiles and shifty giggles
at being allowed to stay up past bedtime
and mom will never have to know.
milky smells and rich, loud laughter
soft skin and band-aid cover knees
and tiny heads buried in my shoulder
is what i think of
when i think of beauty.

when i think of beauty i see
so much more than gloss and glamor
so much more than high-end retail
so much more than you'd even consider
so much more than you would even see
if you ever thought of what i think of
when i think of beauty.

have yourself a merry little christmas

2007-12-24T12:20:02Z

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Let your heart be light
From now on,
our troubles will be out of sight

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Make the Yule-tide gay,
From now on,
our troubles will be miles away.

Here we are as in olden days,
Happy golden days of yore.
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more.

Through the years
We all will be together,
If the Fates allow
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough.
And have yourself
A merry little Christmas now

I love you all. Have a brilliant and merry Christmas!

Public Service Announcement

2007-12-06T06:39:05Z

www.freerice.com





www.freerice.com    www.freerice.com    www.freerice.com

f r i e n d s only ! ! !

2007-11-29T23:57:28Z

{Despite appearance, this journal is f r i e n d s o n l y}

comment for the good stuff

I'm nice. I'll add you, probably.

fics at charlotte_s_web -- icons at noodlebirdsnest

happy thanksgiving

2007-11-22T16:13:31Z

"Count the blessings, not the calories."

Happy Thanksgiving, guys. When I count my blessings, I always count you twice. Really.

love
charlotte

fic or treat!

2007-10-30T09:14:46Z

comment with the fandom/internet equivalent of candy: fic, drabble, graphics, funny links, recipes etc.

Thanks!

more info here

Dumbelore, Bellatrix and other ramblings

2007-10-23T22:46:28Z

First of all a couple of bulletpointy things:

In light of Deathly Hallows, I think there can be a case made for Spinner's End being the BEST. CHAPTER. EVER. Best chapter ever of the first six books, that is. Deathly Hallows is a whole new category of love.
"I do love knitting patterns" and "a flamboyant purple suit". Honestly, in hindsight: how is it such a shock that this guy is gay? I mean, I was surprised but honestly, it's been there. We just never saw it cause he was, you know, a very old man, but... it's been there. The really, really funny part is how incredibly much Movie!Dumbledore ruins that.
In light of that, *ahem*
charlotte.frey: MINERVA
IS
charlotte.frey: DD'S
charlotte.frey: FAGHAG!!!!!!!!!!!!
1:33 AM chilla: ONE TRUE FAGHAG

before you judge us me, please, please look at the time of this conversation. Plus, this makes the twelve-year-old girl inside me that fails at math and ships Minerva/Albus pretty happy. Actually, that might be the first ship I shipped -well, apart from R/Hr, obviously. Wow. Hi.
You're still with me? After that? Awesome. Here's why the DD/GG thing makes me so happy, and why it kind of peeves me that it wasn't in the book. I know, it's not important and yes, it is a kid's story, and most of the little kids I know would react similarly to stmargaret's son, if not a lot more immature (and yes, I have been stalking all of you on the Quill. Deal with it.), but, here's my but. I have said this before- the Dumbledore story felt tacked on. I was reading it, and a part of me, the part that wasn't riveted, was going "Why do I even care?". And it just makes so much more sense now. Why Dumbledore would be so adamant that Voldemort can't love, why he would trust Snape so absolutely, why he would be this sure about the Elder Wand and how it works- all of it. It just makes the book seem a lot more rounded. And that's why I love it, and that's why I wish it had been in there- not, you know, made a big deal out of, because that would be weird and I agree that the last thing on Harry's mind at King's Cross would be Dumbledore's sexuality, but still... I kind of love DH even more now.
As to the question of interview-canon vs. bookcanon, all I really have to say is this: I have a... selective take on what I regard as canon and what I don't, in terms of interviews. Such as: Dumbledore being gay is completely canon to me, because the minute I read I was like "... OF COURSE he is. How the hell did I miss that?" (Purple Suits. Earmuffs. KNITTING PATTERNS for crying out loud. It's been there.) Another really good example of that is Bellatrix killing Tonks. That could have been in DH -in fact I think it was just edited out, cause of depressiveness overkill- and it made sense for it to be the way it was with canon the way it's lined up- Bellatrix's relationship with Andromeda, the passage in "The Dark Lord Ascending" etc.

But then are things that are just one big WTF to me, and I, um, choose to ignore those. Like Luna marrying Rolf-whatever-his-name-is when Luna/Dean was ALL. OVER. DEATHLY HALLOWS. So, I still think Luna/Dean is what happened, and Rolf-whatever-his-name-is can just go play with Devil's Snare. And honestly, who's to stop me from doing that? Yeah, I write fanfiction- if I can tell a convincing story about Luna and Dean that doesn't contradict books 1-7, then why the hell not? And plenty of fanfiction is neither convincing nor adherent to books 1-7, and people still enjoy it.

But generally, I wish people would stop asking her the freaking "What happens to..." questions and start asking questions about, well, substance. I've said it before- my favorite part of the Dumbledore revelation was Rowling comparing it to Bellatrix's feelings for Voldemort. Stuff like that is FASCINATING to me because every time it happens, it allows me to go back and see the books under a new and different light. And that's what's truly fascinating, because I don't know about you guys, but I would be much, much more interested in WHY Narcissa of all people got to play the part she did in DH and WHY Harry's lasts thought before Death were of Ginny and not Ron and Hermione or his parents, and what she's trying to tell us when, 19 years later, Percy is still a pompus prat, and so on and so on. Maybe it's because I write myself, but the writing process, the choices involved in who to kill and how to relay bits of information- that's something much, much more interesting to me as a reader and as fan than the names of all of Arthur and Molly's grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I can totally understand that JKR has all this information, and I love that she's willing to share it, but I do think the answers she would give on more thoughtful questions would be much, much more insightful and gratifying.

Enough Listyness, and off to some real rambling!
caboca did a "most tragic ship" poll on her LJ (link) (<-chilla, see how I embedded the link? nada copy paste involved! *cowers*) which you should all vote in, and then we talked about it for like, several hours, which was awesome, but the point is that it got me thinking about Bellatrix even more. Which is decidedly unpleasant.

The first thing you have to accept about Bella, as with almost every other character JKR shoves down our throats, is that she comes in shades of gray and shades of evil. The woman is twisted, dark, sadistic, and horrible. That scene in Ootp, where she hunts down Harry doing that baby's voice, "Did you looooove him, little baby Potter"- that's pure, psychotic evil. But she's also passionate, loyal and somehow so incredibly tragic- because she's always, always left wanting from Voldemort, and she's got this hunger than can't EVER be stilled. I love how JKR does this- on the hand she makes it obvious that love is Teh Powah The Dark Lord Knows Not and the answer to everything, but on the other hand -and there always, always is an other hand, and that's what makes me so incredibly happy- the love that she shows us here, the painful, obsessive, destructive force of love.

I do think her story is one of the most tragic in HP canon, ironically enough- or the way I see her, anyway. I think she's someone who was bursting to come to her own, and because she's such a powerful witch she would have wanted something to *do* with all that power and potential. And then she finds it in Voldemort, and he teaches her, and honestly, it's so telling how she was trying to torture his whereabouts out of the Longbottoms. I'm not excusing what she did, or justifying, and I'm not saying there wasn't a very, very large sadistic element of pleasure there; but I do also think that it was a complete act of desperation. Similar, actually, to what McGonagall thought Sirius was doing when Pettigrew blew up all those Muggles. It's a Black family thing, I think- dedicating yourself to something and acting on your darkest instincts.

I always feel a little stupid going back analyzing/explaining my own writing, but I'm going to do it anyway, because the reason why I have been thinking so much about Bellatrix is because I've been writing her for Family History, and had a little dare going on with myself- "Can you write Bellatrix First Person POV and get away with it?". I'm not sure I did- I think once you're in someone's head you do paint them in a much more sympathetic light, I think, especially me. I have a tendency to find, if not redeeming at least human qualities in everyone, and I can't just write Bellatrix as a crucio!ing monster, even though that's exactly what she is. It doesn't make sense to me, and I think it goes against canon- not what's stated in canon as much as the general feel of canon- the shades of gray thing. What I take away from HP at the end of the day is this feeling of "in our darkest hour we're all just shades of gray". Snape, Dumbledore, Ron walking away and coming back, Harry being a brat and saving the world, Cissy and Lucius, of course... variations on a theme.

Anyway, here's what I came up with. This is the very end of the chapter/vignette, which begins with a much younger Bellatrix learning Crucio from Voldemort. Then there's a leap in time (otherwise known as me deciding this wasn't disturbing enough yet) to the Longbottom's being tortured. "She" in this context is Alice Longbottom, Bellatrix is of course the "narrator".

“HE… IS…NOT… DEAD!”

She’s laughing now, openly laughing at me and I can tell she’s trying to aggravate me, trying to distract so she can attempt to recover her wand. “Well then, where is he? Defeated by a baby boy, a half-blood, no less? Unable to come and help you, is he? Not as powerful as you thought?”

I can’t hear a moment more of this, cannot hear this filthy bloodtraitor, this scum, shout my worst fears up at me. “CRUCIO!” I bellow, and the pain spelled out in her face is my pain, and her horror is mine, and with every gasping breath she takes the fire inside me seems to burn a little bit more, and all I want is to burn, to have it done with. “CRUCIO!” I bellow again and again, and her sobs are dying and her body is going limp, but I’m still here, and the pain is getting worse, not getting better, or maybe it's the other way around, and I yell the spell out, again and again and again, but it’s no good, and even when they catch us, when they take my wand and cart us to Azkaban, I’m still burning, and maybe I will be for the rest of my life.

Here's what I was going for.

I did very consciously mirror the "He is not dead" line of Harry's from OotP, because, you know, foreshadowing and parralels are awesome, and really that was where I was going with this chapter- to paint Bellatrix as, well, human. According to Dumbledore's definition of being human, in any case- "the pain you are feeling right now shows that you are still human". And there it is again, the brilliance that these two characters are so totally different, and yet... not.
The crazyness is there, but I do think fifteen years in Azkaban when you're not an Animagus will leave their mark. I think the Bella we see in canon was, truly "as mad as her master" (although I don't like that phrase particularly because of all the things that Voldemort is, crazy isn't really the one that comes to mind), and I'm not saying- well. What they do to people in Azkaban is torture. It's torture, and the first thing they teach you in criminal law classer here is that there are crimes for which their can be no repayment, and that a state, a society, does not have the right to be vengeful, and a society, a Winzengamot, in my opinion cannot send people off to be tortured for the rest of their lives. It's torture and it's wrong, and I'm wary to say that Bellatrix didn't deserve it for what she did, because she probably did, but... there are crimes that have no repaying. There are crimes so heinous that they just stand there in all their heinousness, but a society can't say that a lifetime of constantly reliving the most painful moments of your life, over and over and over again is worth the same as not recognizing your own son. It doesn't work that way.

Thank God I don't post on the Quill anymore. That last part would probably entice a lot of wank.

AND CRAP, now I've gone off on a tangent about to torture and completely lost my train of thought.

Which concludes my ramblings, but I'm sure all of you will have plenty to say on the subject. Right?

i had choir today, and we sang this awesome arrangement of "Can you feel the love tonight?", and WOW- I only ever knew the Disney lyrics, not the proper ones, and they're just... so... beautiful. Honestly. I was completely floored.

Shut up.

HEY, I actually have another thing that's been bugging me. At one point in probably either HBP or OotP Hermione says to, I think it must be to Harry, "Oh stop acting all misunderstood" and it is FUNNY and I was wondering if any of you knew which scene that was.

All of that should have given you plenty to think about, so feel free to give me your two knuts in the comments.

love
char

charlotte!fic housecleaning post

2007-10-14T22:48:23Z

There is part one of a new fic (originally birthday-written for dogstar101, but I'm expanding it) posted at charlotte_s_web. Ted and Andromeda are being fluffy and revoltingly so. I don't get many things right the first time.

This is fic is going to be so much fun to write. I just realized as I was typing up part two -oh god, I hate numbers, but then, so does JKR- that according to the Lexicon Tonks was born in 1973, which means Andromeda had her when she was nineteen. YAY TEENMOMS! And Ted is so working for TV.

*raises hand*

Who in here would actually be interested to see some more Draco/Kate? I'm not sure if I can bring myself to care enough to write a sequel or something. Which doesn't bode well.

!! by the way, this post does very much not mean that you're allowed to ignore my TV poll below!!

bedtime!
<3 muchly
char

My a w e s o m e TV Poll!

2007-10-14T20:00:22Z

This is a quick TV poll I made to see which shows you guys are watching (if it turns out none of you are watching Private Practice, I swear I'll stop rambling about it...so much) and to see if I'm missing any awesome shows. FYI: I'm currently following Grey's, Private Practice and Brothers and sisters.

Can't wait to see your answers!

View Poll: Quick TV Poll

Bright and shiny fic com!!

2007-09-23T18:48:58Z

charlotte_s_web

Am very proud. You should all visit/friend! I even honored the occasion by posting a new fic. Al and Rosie and Scorpius! And Barbra Streisand! Starting Here, Starting Now. Enjoy!

Another brilliant YouTube:

2007-09-18T22:20:22Z

...seriously. How amazing. Doesn't Harry look *just* like he's talking at the beginning. And I'm rediscovering just how amazing P&P really is. Seriously. Especially the BBC version, and Colin Firth hasn't even jumped in his pond yet.

Anyway. I went babysitting with my very favorite family tonight and it was lovely, lovely love. And now I must fold laundry.

Life Support- Love for the Lonely (Matchmaker Fic)

2007-09-15T00:22:31Z

Wanna hear a funny story? Draco is a bitch to write. Heh.

Title: Life Support (Love for the Lonely)
Summary: Kate Fisher (the OC formerly known as Amy) is a magical marine biologist whose life has reached a degree of irksomeness that is, in itself, irksome. Draco Malfoy is working with his uncle and hasn't felt anything in years. Enter Love for the Lonely, the resident Matchmaking agency...

Life Support (Love For The Lonely)

A/N: This was written for the Matchmaker Challenge at St. Margaret’s Livejournal (link). Kate is an OC, obviously.

But I try to open up to what I don’t know,

because reason says I should have died

three years ago.

-Life Support, from Rent

It was upsetting, sure, but nevertheless Kate had to admit to herself that the highlight of her day had been the forty-second exchange of pleasantries with Matt, the blonde, beefcakey boy that manned the reception desk at the Coney Island Magical Appartments, her current home away from home.

Very much away from home, she thought sadly, dropping on her bed with a sigh, listening to the loud humming of her twenty fans inside and the noise from the Muggle Beach on the outside as she unbuttoned her work-blouse and closed her eyes. Even with the fans, it was terribly hot in here, hot and humid and she felt her blouse sticking to her body. She was too tired, too hot and too…gloomy to even summon the energy to cast a Cooling Charm. New York was irksome. Coney Island, Magical Coney Island, with its sailors and whores, drunks and rich snobs, magical ships on the horizon and the constant, constant noise of the Muggle beach pounding against the magical barriers like the bass of a teenager’s stereo, was irksome. Her job, tracking diamond ray swimming patterns for a big-name potioneering enterprise that would use her research to catch and kill the rays she had monitored, was irksome.

In short, her life had reached a degree of irksomeness that was, in itself… irksome.

She blamed the heat for her recently restricted vocabulary. At home, in green Seattle on the beach where on clear days you could see the orcas, where the rain pattered against the roof of her room like a constant lullaby, they would sit at the dinner table playing the Thesaurus Game, her father’s idea of family fun, for hours on end. Once upon a time, that had earned her perfect scores on her SAT verbal, which in turn had allowed her to leave the small, overcrowded Inn on the bay. Not counting Christmas and Thanksgiving, she’d only been back three times in five years, and until now, she hadn’t wanted to.

But now, things were different. She was stuck in a hot, overcrowded magical port of full of loud strangers, far from her family, far from her friends. She was, she realized with horror, lonely.

“I don’t do lonely,” she said, aloud. But then, she didn’t do talking to herself either, did she?

Annoyed, she realized she’d forgotten to get her mail while she was downstairs. Oh, well. A trip to the reception desk and Matt’s sculpted shoulders and baby blue eyes certainly couldn’t hurt. She peeled herself out of the blouse and pencil-skirt she had worn to work and instead fished a clean-looking white sundress out of her laundry-pile. Right. I’m disgusting. I need to clean up. And doing some laundry wouldn’t hurt. She pulled out her wand and condensed the pile of dirty clothes into a basketball-sized blob, which she shoved into a paper bag. She’d get that in a second, flirting would be easier without worrying about her shoddy Condensation Charms and her dirty underwear sticking out of the bag at inopportune moments. Pulling her dark hair back into a perky sort of ponytail, she stepped out of the small room, down the vaguely smelling hall and into a whirring elevator.

Downstairs, she strolled through the lobby, as always appreciating the cool marble and strong Cooling Charms, though not as much as she appreciated the blonde man behind the counter. “Back again?” He grinned at her. She felt her stomach tingle, and hated herself for being so ridiculous.

“Forgot my mail,” she said, going for non-chalantness, and probably missing spectacularly.

“Yeah, let me check.” He bent down behind her to go through the stacks of envelopes on the floor behind him. Kate leaned forward over the counter; enjoying the view of his broad back and perfectly round buttocks in those cute Hawaiian-print shorts. He resurfaced, handing her an envelope. “You’re in luck.”

“Thanks.” She took the envelope, addressed to her in her little sister’s handwriting, and then noticed a stack of forms lying on the counter. “What are these?”

“Oh,” he said, blushing. “It’s this new agency thing a buddy of mine’s setting up. Like a matchmaking thing? You, like, fill out a form and stuff. It’s kinda cool.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Have you filled out a form?”

He shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “Yeah, ‘cause it might be funny, right? You know, like, when one window closes and- I don’t know, I just thought it’d be kinda funny. You want one?”

He’s cuter when he doesn’t talk. “Well,” Kate smiled at him, “only if I get to be matchmade with you.”

He laughed. He could probably do toothpaste ads with that laughed, it made you feel like you’d just been crowned Miss America. “Yeah, that’d be, like, really cool.”

“It would.”

“We should, like, hang out or something some time.”

Why, you’ve swept me off my feet. “I’d like that.”

“Okay, yeah.” The phone rang behind the counter, and he grinned at her as he answered, mouthing, “See you around” as he did.

Feeling a mixture of elation and annoyance, she walked back to the elevator. She stepped inside, smiling unsurely at the blonde young man who was already inside. “You going up?” She asked.

He flinched, as though she had yelled at him. “Oh,” he said, frowning at her. “Yes, I am.” The first thing she noticed was his British accent; the second was that, despite the heat, he was wearing high-necked black wizard’s robes that made him look like vicar. She giggled to herself.

“Something funny?” He asked, coolly.

“Aren’t you boiling in those?” She asked, despite herself. “I mean, I go to work in the thinnest blouse I can find, it’s practically see-through, and I want to skinny-dip in the Arctic after, like, five minutes. How do you wear that stuff?”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Cooling Charms. An old trick of my mother’s. I don’t think she’d appreciate my swimming in the arctic.”

Despite herself, Kate found herself blushing. “Okay,” she said quickly, “but wouldn’t you rather wear something more normal?”

His sneer became a little more pronounced. She was starting to be irritated. “This is normal. I’m shocked to see how many wizards walk around in Muggle clothing in this place.” His eyes traveled over the sundress, lingering on a coffee stain on her midriff she hadn’t seen before and coming to a full stop around the dress’s neckline. “It’s rather improper.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, fully annoyed now. “I happen to think it’s improper to stare at a girl’s cleavage like she’s a cow on the market, but that seems to be a cultural thing. And anyway, I think if you take a good look in the mirror you’re going to find that only one of us looks ridiculous, and it’s not me.” The elevator clanged to a halt, and she made to get off, squeezing past a gaggle of young witches speaking rapid Mandarin.

“This is the seventh floor!” The other snapped, annoyed. “You pressed ten!”

“And what does that tell you?” She paused for effect. “I’d rather walk up three flights of stairs in this overheated bunker than stay with you on this elevator a minute longer. Think about that, would you?”

The doors closed, but suddenly, a pale hand shot out and held them open. “What’s your name?”

“Kate Fisher,” she said coldly. “But you probably had figured that out on your own, right?” She turned, fuming, and stalked off to the staircase, which was indeed, even hotter then the rest of the building. She hesitated for a second before pulling out her wand and casting a cooling charm on her dress.

The crowd outside seemed to part as the pale young man in high-necked robes made his way through them, a derisive sneer on his face, his eyes darting through the mass of oddly assembled faces that populated Magical Coney Island. He came to a halt before a large brownstone in much better shape than the surrounding houses, with a wrought-iron fence and gate and a lavishly decorated stoop. The stone peacocks flanking each side of the red door gave him a pang that was somewhere between annoyance and regret.

He walked through the door, through the marble hall of the Maudlin’s house, past his Uncle’s office, past the downstairs drawing room with its large windows opening on a lavish view of the port and the ocean, and into the kitchen.

“Hello, dear. Are you hungry?” His Aunt Catalina looked up from what she had been reading and gave him a motherly smile. Although motherly was perhaps not the right word, because his Aunt, with her broad face and rotund figure, was nothing at all like his mother.

“No,” he said, sinking down on a chair. “I’m supposed to walk down to the down to the docks with Benoit later, I’m simply a little early.” His uncle, Benoit, ran the family-owned Magical Steamboat business. Technically, his father was supposed to take care of British business, of course, but really, he let Benoit do the work and used the money his brother-in-law earned to push through his laws.

“There’s an owl from your mother for you here,” his aunt said, conversationally. “She flood in this morning, but you weren’t there. She and Lucius send their love.” Draco’s hand flew to his temple, and he rubbed them unconsciously, feeling the usual throb that accompanied thoughts of his parents, especially his father, these days.

“Draco, I know you don’t want to hear this, but don’t you think it’s time-“ He looked up at her, and she fell silent at once. “Suit yourself. But at least read the letter, would you?”

He nodded curtly, reaching out for the familiar thick, expensive envelope addressed in his mother’s neat handwriting. As a child, he had begged her to allow him to use this paper for drawing. Sometimes she let him, and she’d join him, and they’d sit together, wordlessly passing colored pencils. The letter was heavy in his hands, and he thought he smelled a whiff of her perfume. Feeling empty, he pocketed the letter. “I’ll read it,” he sighed as his aunt opened her mouth again, knowing he wouldn’t read it, that it would join the pile of unopened letters of his mother’s plea for understanding in his room. “I promise I will, but not now, all right?”

“All right.” He reached for the Coney Island Times and started scanning the headlines, while his Aunt went back to whatever she was writing. She broke the silence again after a few moments: “Draco, what would you say your idea of a perfect date would be?”

He stared at her. “Why would you want to know that?” He asked her suspiciously.

“Just curious,” she answered, not meeting his eye.

“I’ve never thought about it,” he answered, quite honestly. He hadn’t been on a date, not even an imperfect one, since the summer before his sixth year at Hogwarts. When he’d left England two years later, traveling through the Southeastern Europe and the Near East before coming to America a few months ago, he had had plenty of experiences with women, not all of them pleasant, but none of them of the, well, niveau that you could honestly call them dates.

His aunt sighed resignedly and went back to her writing once more. Draco stared out of the kitchen window, taking in the evening sun in the backyard, the looming skyline of the Muggle City in the distance, the cries of the seagulls and the noise of the street.

As usual, he felt absolutely nothing. He had not felt much of anything since the Dark Lord’s defeat, neither loss nor relief, and since then, nothing. In a dingy Inn in Beirut, he had cut his hand on a rusty nail sticking out of the wall, and not noticed it for several minutes. He had visited the Black’s property in Belarus, Syria and Gaza, had seen dirty, snot-nosed children dressed in little more than rags, and he had felt neither disgust, nor pity. He felt unbelievably separate from the world around them, from the people who laughed and cried, slapped their palms on the table to make a point, opened their arms in an embrace. He just stood there, silent and still as a marble statue.

Sometimes, he wished he had died in that last battle.

A week later, Kate, having received a heart-shaped letter that had informed her to meet her Match, found for her by Love for the Lonely’s foolproof matchmaking system, at nine PM sharp on the Muggle boardwalk of Coney Island; was getting impatient. It was now ten past nine and yet the sculpted arms and maddening swagger of Matt were nowhere to be found. The only familiar face in the crowd was that rude young man from the elevator last week, who was arguing with a round woman who she assumed, was his mother. The letter had said they would reveal themselves to the other through the use of magic, but Kate was fairly convinced she wouldn’t need something as mundane as magic to spot Matt. Absent-mindedly, she watched elevator-guy take out his wand and conjure a bouquet of flowers, which he handed to his mother with a frown on his face. The mother shoved the flowers back in his hands, caught her eye, and suddenly disappeared. Kate suddenly had a horrible thought.

“’Scuse me?” She walked over to him, staring at the bouquet of flowers. “Hi. I’m sorry, but what are you doing with those flowers?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” he replied, coolly.

She sighed. “I think it might be. Are you here for,” she lowered her voice, feeling herself blush, “a blind date?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

He opened his mouth, a sneer firmly in place, but then his eyes traveled from the flowers in his hands to the spot where the older woman had just vanished. “I…” he stared at her. “Yes,” he said, slowly. “Yes, I suppose I am. Are you…?”

“Yes,” she said, slowly. “I mean, this wasn’t… there’s been… never mind.” He was still staring at her, apparently transfixed and unable to speak. “You want to get some food or something?”

He was still irritated beyond belief at Catalina’s meddlesome behavior, but he had to admit that this was a far more enjoyable way to spend your time than sitting in the Maudlin’s drawing room with his tight-lipped, stoical uncle and a bottle of Firewhiskey. On closer inspection, the girl –Kate- was pretty, in a spirited sort of way that reminded him of trees and things that grew, with a self-conscious giggle and bright, blue eyes. She was constantly talking –he thought she might be overplaying her nerves- and showing him around the Muggle Coney Island, which he had never set foot upon. She made him taste a Hot Dog, and something quite delicious called Cotton Candy as they watched the Muggles enjoying those strange contraptions.

He realized after five minutes that she had to be Muggle-born, knowing her way around the crowd so easily, but another two minutes made him realize that he didn’t really care. She was so happy, somehow, so lively, that he hardly dared open his mouth, lest he say something foolish or rude, like he had the first time they had met. She didn’t ask him any questions, just talked and talked about her job and her family and a million other mundane things, and still, it seemed to fill him up, like a good strong drink of butterbeer at the end of a cold day.

Fifteen minutes later, she garbled something about getting up for work early the next morning and hastily excused herself. As he slowly walked back to Aunt Catalina’s, he realized he probably should have seemed more interested in her, should have been more attentive. He had probably annoyed her. He felt rusty, as though he was riding a broom for the first time in ages, and the first few rounds where agony. But he had never exactly been good at this.

Not actually wanting to be around his bustling Aunt and her questions, he turned on the spot and walked, past the docks, to the tiny bit of beach Magical Coney Island called it’s own. He stepped into the sand, still warm from the day, felt the strong, salty breeze on his face; he felt it. With a strange grimace that might have been a smile, he walked back to the apartment building, rode the elevator without a single interruption, and sat down on his bed with a role of parchment.

Dear Mother and Father,

I hope you both are well. I don’t have much news, but I met a girl today…

best. thing. ever.

2007-09-08T16:20:59Z

you have not lived if you haven't seen this at least five million times. heh.

For St.Mag's Matchmaking Challenge

2007-09-01T22:45:05Z

Hi.

I'm kind of ick-ish (okay, worried and upset and depressed) about leaving for uni. Especially since I'm likign the one I picked (okay, the only one that accepted me) less and less.

But whatever.

I'm going to Barcelona with Granny for a week! YAY! Also, yay, fictime. Rather: versebuilding time. Introducing Amy Jordan, Draco Malfoy's one twoo wuv....

Love For The Lonely- Magical Moments For New York Newcomers

Love For The Lonely caters to the crowd of newcomers that come to Coney Island, Brooklyn, New York, the thriving center of wizarding life in America, each year, searching for their magical equivalent of the American Dream.

* * *

Name of the Witch: Amy Cynthia Jordan (OC)

Name of the Wizard: Draco Malfoy

Tell us about this witch: She’s a Muggle-Born Magical Marine Zoologist, born and raised into a loud, big family in Seattle, where her parents own an Inn overlooking Pujet Sound. American Magical Education is organized as a “supplement” to normal education- starting in Third Grade, young witches and wizards attend afterschool, weekend and summer classes, as well as camps, retreats etc. Amy went to a normal American High School, and went to Stanford, where she graduated from the School of Biology and the Magical Chapter of the college. She recently moved to the East Coast, where she is studying the swimming patterns of diamond sting ray, a rare breed of rays whose blood has magical properties similar to dragon’s. She’s living in Coney Island, which is one of the centers of wizarding life in America, in the same building of furnished apartments where Draco is also staying (see below).

Amy is pretty, in an earthy sort of way with high cheekbones, brilliant blue eyes, dark brown hair and a tall, solid frame. She’s extroverted and laughs a lot, is emotionally kind of all-over-the-place, but warm and engaging, with a genuine interest in most people. She’s clever and can be quite snarky at times.

Tell us about this wizard: Draco, as we know, comes from an overprotective, elitist but essentially loving family- loving towards him, in any case. His parents where never cool towards him, in fact they both spoiled him rotten and raised him to believe that he is better than almost everyone else. He joined the Death Eaters in the beginning of HBP out of a mixture of desperation and defiance, both wanting desperately to be treated as a grown-up, and terrified of the consequences for himself and his family if he didn’t join. After Voldemort’s defeat, his parents quickly adapted back into society, his mother especially was grateful to have a life free of blood and fear back, but Draco for a long time was confused about his further path in life, bordering on depression. His parents sent him on a tour of the world sort of thing, making him visit the Black’s land in Eastern Europe and the Middle East, but even when he returned from there, he was still aimless and moody. Finally, his parents decided that what he needed in life was a purpose, and sent him to Coney Island Magical Port, where he was to stay with his Aunt Catalina, Lucius’ sister, and her husband Benedict Maudlin. The Maudlins still run the magical steamboat business Jean-Baptiste Malfoie made his money with three generations ago, and Draco is supposed to learn the trade from them and enter the company.

Where in the HP timeline does this match occur? 4-or-so years after DH.

Describe the first date you would send them on:

Amy is harboring a crush on the building’s doorman, a Quidditch player trying to make it big, with swishy blonde hair and a beefcake body. When she sees him fill out a Love For The Lonely form, she fills one out too, hoping to be paired for a blind date with him- and ends up with Draco instead, whose Aunt Catalina, sure that the only thing that could lift her nephew’s spirits at this point were girls, filled out the form without him knowing it.

LftL (Love for the Lonely) told them to meet at the Muggle Coney Island boardwalk -Catalina tricked Draco-, and meet they did. Amy was horrified to find herself face-to-face and supposed to be socializing with the snobby guy she onyl knew from glances in the laundry room and elevators of the building. Draco, on the other hand, was completely fascinated by her, though very much unable to communicate it. They made it through a hotdog and twenty minutes of forced conversation before Amy excused herself and left, rather annoyed. Draco however was struck in a Darcy-when-he-sees-Elizabeth-with-her-hem-six-inches-in-the-mud sort of way, and really, that was just the beginning. What followed was an Austenian romance with a lot more angst

Where do their interests/personalities overlap? They’re both in Coney Island looking for a fresh start- for Amy, it's the start of her career, for Draco its to give his life a new purpose. Both come form loving but extremely dominating families, both are rather emotionally messy -Draco's stunted, Amy's a mess- and both are highly ambitious. Draco thought he'd lost his cunning, his ambition with Voldemort, but Amy makes him remember his drive.

Where do they differ? Everywhere else, basically. It's a mystery what, exactly, attracts them to each other. but somewhere along the way, Amy falls in love with him the snobby, badly scarred British guy and they live happily ever after. Ish.

Epilogue – what happens to them in 19 years? I'm #too tired to do the math, but obviously they wind up married and with baby Scorpius. His mom calls him Bob, by the way. Amy has become one of the top names in Magical Zoology by now, and Draco is about to take over the shipping firm when Lucius dies. Draco moves the family back to England, which turns out to be a really bad idea, because it means Scorpius is going to Hogwarts, and also Cissy absolutely hates Amy and is pretty much the worst mother-in-law in the universe. Scorpius heads to Hogwarts, meets Rosie and Al on the Express and the become the new trio when Al and Scorpius are sorted into Hufflepuff, much to the chagrin of their fathers. Amy, however, gets on reasonably well with both Ginny and Hermione, and encourages as a slow but steady peace between the fathers.

I'm spamming your flist and spoiling your kids...

2007-08-14T23:05:25Z

...but I bring a drabble/minific, and that makes it okay. And a plot-bunny. Is it too corny to write a Lily-fic based around Where Have All the Flowers Gone? I'm going to be thinking about this one a lot, because I have the song stuck in my head and the girl is just so brilliant. Family History, you say? Yeah, because I'm really going to choose Bella over Lily. *g*

Title: He's A Boy
Summary: “How did this happen? We were so sure he was going to be a girl!” In which I attempt to explain the utter WTF-ness of naming a kid Albus Severus.
Ship: H/G (seriously!)
Rating: G

“He’s a boy,” Harry repeated for the millionth time, staring down at his brand-new son, asleep in Ginny’s arms in front of them, with incredulity in his voice.

“I know,” Ginny groaned. He could tell from her voice that she was tired and sore, but she was refusing to go to sleep while their son remained nameless.

“How did this happen? We were so sure he was going to be a girl!”

“I was so sure,” Ginny agreed. “There’s got to be a line somewhere about that making me a horrible mother.”

“There isn’t,” Harry laughed. “Do you think it’ll…affect him, that we thought he was going to be a girl?”

Ginny giggled. “I’m going to chose to ignore that.” They sat in silence, contemplating the sleeping baby boy in front of him. They had been so sure he would be a girl, named after his grandmothers just like James was named after his grandfathers.

“We could name him Fred,” Harry suggested.

She shook her head. “I’ve got six other brothers- I know they wouldn’t mind, but it wouldn’t be right, Mum always taught us to be fair with each other. And I’m not doing this seven more times, but-“

“Seven?”

“I do want one daughter. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because Percy got there first, remember?”

“Oh yes, that’s right.” In the excitement of his own son’s birth, Harry had temporarily forgotten about Penny’s new baby.

They sat in silence for a while. “I’ve always liked Benjamin,” Ginny volunteered.

Harry frowned. “I’d like to name him after someone, someone who meant a lot to both of us. Someone who died so we could be here.” He paused. “I thought about Sirius, but he doesn’t seem like a Sirius to me.”

“Not handsome enough?!” Ginny asked, feigning offence.

“Too quiet.” They laughed softly, Ginny leaning herself more closely against his shoulder. Silence fell again. “Albus?” She suggested.

Harry considered it. “We could call him Al for short.”

“Or Bus.”

“Very funny.” He gazed at his son, who had just woken up. Harry realized that his son had his eyes, Lily’s eyes. “Albus,” he tried it out. The baby’s eyes found his, looked up at him with some form of understanding. “Albus,” he said, with finality. He glanced up at Ginny with a smile. “He likes it.”

“Brilliant,” Ginny groaned. “Albus it is. Hey, Al,” She tenderly bent over and kissed the newborn’s forehead, before tenderly placing him into the tiny crib next to her. “Goodnight, Al.” She sank down, into her covers and looked up at Harry with a loose, radiant but exhausted smile on her face. ‘”Night, you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“You did a brilliant job, with him, even if he isn’t a girl.”

“Shut up.”

He watched her drift into sleep; then looked again at his baby son. He was awake, his eyes gazing up at his father with polite interest. Harry remembered how James had looked, squinting and disgruntled at being pushed into this new world. Al just looked politely confused. Their eyes met, brilliantly green, and Harry remembered, with a sudden jolt, the one man to whom they truly owed that he was alive and whole. He thought about how he had never been able to say thank you. How nothing he did, not clearing his name, not creating the Severus Snape Prize for Achievements in Potion Making, ever seemed enough. He remembered how the last thing this man had seen on earth were his eyes. Lily’s eyes. Al’s eyes.

“Albus Severus,” Harry said in a low voice. The baby looked at him and gurgled. “Really?” He asked his son. “You don’t mind? It sounds a little strange.” The baby cooed in affirmation. Harry smiled, bending over to kiss his son’s tiny, perfect hand. “Albus Severus,” he said, again. Maybe this would be enough.

MY first post-DH fic!

2007-07-25T23:28:18Z

Ron&Hermione fluffyness. How predictable. I assume I will be back with more soon enough (Andromeda and Cissy reconciling, for one, that scene needs to be touched upon) but this shall suffice for now.

Link to FF.net, because I'm way too lazy to post it in here.

OH!!! caboca and I founded a FIC COM!!!!!!

phoenix_laments

is a community dedicated to the artistic and hopeful mourning of deaths in HP-canon. In other words, fics about death that don't make you want to slash your wrists and shop at Hot Topic. *prods* go visit?

love
char

our turn now

2007-07-24T00:21:41Z

Really, I was just going to post some more DH rambling but then I flicked on the TV-

And now I'm sitting here watching the CNN/Youtube debate, and it's got to be some sort of heavenly irony that the first twenty minutes were dedicated to the themes to racism and bureaucracy.

All I'm saying is that while the Potter fandom is once again busy griping and whining itself into oblivion because noes, your ship died (and let it be known that I'm still mourning Tonks and Remus), the world is crumbling apart at the seems. On our watch. And it's exactly the themes that are so prominent in those books we fell in love with that are driving us apart. Race, and blood; oligarchy and the political elite, corruption- did you really read these books with your eyes closed? One person's Death Eater is another person's freedom fighter, afterall, but people- we don't have a Chosen One. It doesn't work that way.

People are dying in Darfur in a way that makes Bellatrix look like Dora the Explorer.

And look a little closer to home. Look at schools that don't need the Carrows and the Cruciatus curse to become hell.

And how can a kid be mistreated and hid in a cupboard under the stairs for eleven years, and what if they never get their Hogwarts letter?

All I'm saying is, it's over. I'm never going to stop loving these characters, I'm going to bully my kids into reading these books, I can't wait for the shock to be over so I can delve into the brilliance of construction and imagery that is this book. I'm never going to stop loving this; and I'm not going to stop writing fanfic anytime soon. It was never about being right for me; it was never about analyzing. It was about finding a place where I can play with words. And much more importantly, it's about the people. It's about you guys. It's about finding some of the dearest friends, some of the people closest to my heart. And even if I had hated the way DH played out, I would have never stopped being grateful. And I won't, ever, stop being grateful that I met you guys.

But it's over. The friendships and the memories we take with us, those aren't over, but the books are over, and Harry's done his part, and he deserves that nap and that sandwich and doing nothing else but teaching his kids two-aside Quidditch if that's what he wants to do.

We don't have that right just yet. So find a cause you believe in, find a DA to join, an Umbridge to fight, an Order of the Phoenix. Use the brilliance and wit and brain and compassion that you all have, and for the love of god, get a life.

We owe that to them, don't we? To Tonks and Lupin, and little Teddy. To Colin and Lavender. To Mad-Eye, to Dorcas Meadows and Amelia, to the Prewetts, to Lily and James and Sirius, to the McKinnons and to the fifty faceless bodies in the Great Hall. And most of all, we owe it to JKR, that once the hype and the press coverage and the wank dies- that the ideas that she hit us over the head with, again and again and again, that Hermione's the smartest person in the world and her parents are dentists, and that the weapon we have is love- we owe her. Don't you think?

Am leaving this unflocked for a reason. If you think I have a point, by all means link or pimp.

LIGHTS OUT!!!

2007-02-01T16:28:49Z

I got this on email and decided to pimp it as much as humanly possible, since, you know, it's a REALLY cool idea.

> >
> > The "Alliance pour la PlanÃ¨te" (a national grouping of environmental
> > associations) appeals to all citizens to give the planet 5 minutes
> > respite :
> >
> > Everybody to extinguish all their lights and illuminations and turn
> > off equipment on stand-by on the 1st February 2007 from 18h55 until
> > 19h00. (GMT)
> >
> > The purpose is not just to save electricity for 5 minutes that day, but
> > to
> > draw the attention of citizens, the media and the authorities to the
> > waste
> > of energy and the need to initiate action! 5 minutes respite for the
> > planet:
> > that's not long, it costs nothing and will show our politicians that
> > climate
> > change is something which should figure prominently in political
> debates.
> >
> > Why the 1st February? Because that is the day on which the latest
> > report of the United Nations Panel of Experts is to be released in
> Paris.
> >
> > Although this event is scheduled to take place in France, we should not
> > miss
> > this opportunity of drawing attention to the global climatic situation.
> >
> > If we all participate our actions will have great public and political
> > resonance, at an important moment in our political life.!
> >
> > Please make this appeal as widely known as possible in your own circles
> > and
> > networks ! please also publish it on your websites and in your
> > newsletters.
> >
> > DIFFERENT TIMEZONES..
> >
> > hey guys. due to popular demand.. we think it would be best to do a
> > 'wave' across the world instead of people working out what time it
> would
> > be in your time zone. so basically just turn off everything at 6.55pm
> > YOUR time and let's watch this wave go.
> >
> > secondly, of course this event wont change the world's climate
> overnight
> > but what it will do is show people that we do care about climate change
> > and something much bigger than our little 'lights out' event needs to
> be
> > done!
> >
> > So dont just stop after this little event but carry on everyday being
> > aware of the little things that you can do to save our world.

So, at 6:55 (YOUR time) turn off the lights, computers, TVs, Stereos etc for five minutes, light some candles and save a polarbear! And PLEASE pass this on, either via email or by copy-pasting to your LJ to get a bunch of people involved!

am leaving this unflocked for obvious reasons. heal the world.

Let's try this again, shall we

2006-06-18T12:02:03Z

Can you guys see this? PLEASE commet if you can. Because my LJ is being muy wonky. And can you see the posts below?

Anyway. From jo_blogs, stolen with her permission, I deem. =)

If you comment on this entry...
1. I'll respond with something random I like about you.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll name something we should do together.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me (or just me).
5. I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you.
6. I'll leave you a quote that is somehow appropriate to you.
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
8. I'll tell you what book reminds me of you.
9. If I do this for you, post this on your journal so you can do the same for other people.

Guess who's going to prague tomorrow!

Friends Only

2006-06-07T17:14:51Z

From now on, this journal is Friends Only.
I'm always happy to add people, so read the userinfo, comment and tell me where you came from, and I probably will.
xoxo
Noodles/Songbird

edit: If you're here for the icons, you need to visit my icon journal at http://community.livejournal.com/noodlebirdsnest

it's public, and friending is love.

edit#2: if you're interested in my fanfiction, all fic I've ever written can be found here:
http://www.fanfiction.net/~songbirdnoodles

It's all there (HP, GA, TWW') and reviews make me happy.

Having said that, I would, of course, be delighted to add you *g*