the happiest place on earth.

bribitribbit — Tue, 20 Dec 2011 16:49:27 GMT

A silly bit of Ben/Leslie for meredyd. Loooove you, friend!

When Ben was a kid, his parents would stuff him and his younger brother Steven into the back of the family station wagon and drive long hours to reach faraway state parks that were exactly like local state parks (except, of course, these state parks built character or something). In hindsight, Ben believed that his computer science major father and librarian mother hated camping as much as Ben did, and only forced those yearly roadtrips onto the family in some act of conformity to the All-American Family.

Sometimes Ben's father would bring along the Lemon branch of their family, and they all hated it as much as Ben did. He and his cousin Liz would spend a lot of time throwing things out the window as they sped by roadside diners and the World's Tallest Robot Dinosaur, and then would sit on the picnic benches at the campsite watching their fathers struggle with the eight-person tent. And the drives were even worse: cramped spaces, motion sickness and nausea that never followed through, and far too much Neil Diamond.

Steven, of course, actually liked the roadtrips and consecutive weekends spent in an ancient, uncomfortable, eternally damp tent, but Steven was the black sheep of the Wyatt family in more ways than one.

All things considered, it was an absolute mystery, then, why Ben had decided to surprise Leslie with a mini-roadtrip into Indianapolis to see the premier of The Muppets on the big screen. Because, actually, that was another thing Ben hated: Muppets.

Puppets that speak and sing and are apparently otherwise sentient? With all those terrible puns that might tickle the accountants at any accounting firm in the area, but mostly made Ben squirm with the heavy forced playfulness of abstract stupidity?

Truly, this entire plan was a sign of how much Ben loved Leslie.

Leslie, of course, was beside herself as she climbed into the passenger's seat of Ben's car. "I made this extra special mix CD just for the occasion!" she announced as Ben backed out of the driveway.

Ben glanced sidelong at her as she inserted the CD into the player. "I hope there isn't any banjo music on that," he said, remembering a different roadtrip all too well.

Leslie smiled. "Well, if Chris were coming with us, then of course I'd put that! But, no, this is much better." She pressed play, and it began: It's time to play the music! It's time to light the lights!

It was an active effort to suppress the groan that arose in his throat. It came out as a suspicious cough instead.

"I thought we'd get ourselves into the mood!" Leslie exclaimed happily over the music, bouncing along to the beat.

Ben nodded tersely. "It's great!" he said, using every reserve of his self-control.

The mix CD was an hour and a half long, but it lasted two hours just because every so often Leslie would pause it to share her thoughts or to tell a joke or just to talk--and it was those moments that made Ben remember why, after three hours on the road (and hearing four different versions of "The Rainbow Connection") he was doing this as he pulled up to the giant theater.

Leslie gasped audibly. "I haven't been here since I was a little girl!"

"I forgot how big it was," Ben agreed.

At the ticket booth, the apathetic teenage employee raised an eyebrow at Leslie's enthusiastic smile as she ordered "two for The Muppets, please" and Ben narrowed his eyes just a tiny bit. He and Leslie shuffled into line to get inside and after buying two large buckets of popcorn--"I love you, Ben, but I'm not sharing"--and two sodas, found their seats. The theater was nearly full, and most of the audience were toddlers. Ben shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but as the previews began, Leslie flashed him an excited smile and he found himself smiling back just as hugely.

In the end, the movie wasn't bad. It just barely smacked of charming and the puns weren't so terrible and even Ben had to admit he couldn't help but root for the Muppets to win against the villain--and anyway, Leslie's excited chatter about it as they both got into the car was worth it all.

"And Miss Piggy!" she said. "I mean, Miss Piggy was my hero when I was a kid, she was up there with Margaret Thatcher, I had a little stuffed Miss Piggy that I slept with--and I just love her and Kermit's romance, is it weird to think a pig and frog's love is romantic?"

Ben shook his head. "No," he assured her. "There are probably weirder things." He turned the key in the ignition but instead of backing out of the parking space, he turned to Leslie. He took a deep breath and said, "Like this."

Leslie frowned and asked "Like what?" but Ben held up a finger, pushed play on the CD player, and began to sing along. "Why are there so many songs about rainbows, and what's on the other side? Rainbows are visions, but also illusions, and rainbows have nothing to hide..."

When he finished singing--the whole song! minus a few forgotten lyrics that he hoped the audio track had covered up--Leslie's smile grew wider and she nearly catapulted herself over her armrest to throw her arms around Ben's neck.

"I thought you hated the Muppets!" she said against his shoulder.

"It was that obvious?" He tried not to sound guilty.

Leslie pulled back and shook her head. "Only to a true Muppets fan." She reached for his face and kissed him. As she pulled back, Ben could see that smile again--did anyone smile as much or as sincerely as Leslie Knope?

"Thank you," she said. "This meant a lot to me." After a pause, she added, "But don't think this means I'm going to sit through Star Trek: Insurrection again."

stop making playlists and do your homework brittney

bribitribbit — Fri, 06 May 2011 19:55:55 GMT

8tracks link || mediafire folder

1. Just Pretend to Be Nice--Josie and the Pussycats
2. Lovers Lane--Hunx & his Punx
3. That Beep - Radioclit's French Mix (feat. Marina)--Architecture in Helsinki
4. One Saturday Night Away--Cassie Steele
5. Are You Satisfied?--Marina & the Diamonds
6. You're So Vain--Carly Simon
7. 3 Small Words--Josie and the Pussycats
8. Dimestore Diamond--Gossip

All of this music is so good you guys. I'm having another love affair with music right now.

My favorite 8tracks mixes right now:
it is what it is
girls only
it ain't kno use to sit and wonder why, babe

WIP AMNESTY

bribitribbit — Sat, 23 Apr 2011 18:49:41 GMT

I WANT TO PARTICIPATE IN WIP AMNESTY. So back in the day (i.e. last winter) I got intensely into writing this story that was sort of a Remus/Sirius-y rehash of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind because I thought, well fuck, if I had to go through what Remus had to go through, I'd definitely Obliviate myself. I got super wrapped up in the logistics, though, and if I hadn't been in the middle of my senior year I might have continued. As it is, here's about 6k worth of what I do have written. I have a lot of outline, as well. Perhaps I will finish someday because I do truly love the idea.

Title: December
Rating: ?? Probably would have been NC-17 but this part is no more than PG.
Summary: Remus's life in the aftermath of October 1981.
Pairing(s): Remus/Sirius
Word Count: 6000+

"God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December." - J.M. Barrie

November 1981

Only two nights before it happened Remus had kissed Sirius good night and laid down next to him in their bed, cozy, worn, well-loved--a little too well-loved, considering their tendency lately to fuck hard and speak little. And true, it was a long time before he could sleep, could manage to focus so that his worries fizzled into the edges of his mind. There were so many worries, ranging from whether he'd want oatmeal again for breakfast in the morning, to how he was going to think up yet another excuse for missing work the day after the upcoming full moon, to whether his best friend, his bedfellow--his--Sirius--whether the man next to him, towards whom Remus could turn and watch the rise and fall of gentle breathing, was a traitor. But sleep came eventually, and in the morning there was oatmeal, because that was all they had, and Sirius left for--Remus hadn't known where, then, but Sirius left, and Remus went to work, it seemed as if all would be the same as it had been for months.

Everthing was too normal to be normal. Remus knows that now, and he wishes that there had been some kind of sign--a note, smoke signals, a Morse code of finger taps against his hip and a mouth on his neck while Remus brushed his teeth. Anything that could have stopped it from happening, could have made things better, could have led to the perfect solution. Everything could have been different. Remus might have been able to bring Sirius back, convinced him--somehow--that what he, James, Peter, Lily, Harry, the Order, had to offer was better than anything He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could promise. He might have warned James and Lily. He might have warned the Order.

Instead, he'd spent Halloween evening alone, eating more oatmeal for dinner, cracking open the Agatha Christie that he'd been meaning to finish, wishing Sirius would tell him where Dumbledore was sending him this time. He'd spent that evening safe, and quiet, and it wasn't until the Patronus from Emmeline that he'd known something was amiss. And by then it was already too late.

He arrived in Godric's Hallow half past eleven, and they were already dead. Someone had already taken Harry to safety. In fact, the street was silent--everyone was either staring in awe at the smouldering ruins of James and Lily's house or vigilantly waiting for a Death Eater attack that never came. Sirius wasn't there. Remus didn't know then that he would never see Sirius again--not even for a trial. There has not yet been a trial, and Remus knows better than to believe that there ever will be.

The thing that Remus dwells on most is that he had been safe. He had been reading an Agatha Christie novel, eating oatmeal with brown sugar, while the most important parts of his life had died. Or good as. He can't help but hate himself for it. He should have done something. What, he has no idea. Would that he could get his hands on a Time Turner--

No. It's been, what, two weeks? Three? Harry is alive and presumably well. The Death Eater count dwindles more every day. Somehow, he has managed to keep his job. The sun still rises in the morning.

Every day, he wakes up, eats toast and jam--he finds that something within him resists the idea of ever consuming oatmeal again--and somehow gets through the day. The first few afternoons his breaks were spent either absent-mindedly chainsmoking near the bookshop's back door or in its seldom-used second floor bathroom staring at himself in the mirror. He feels as if there is nothing left to feel at all. Instead, he systematically goes through the events of Halloween over and over and over and tries to find something that might give him a clue towards fixing it, making everything the way it had been before. Better, even.

It is a futile endeavor but Remus cannot think of anything else.

He spends his days at work and when he comes home, he hangs up his coat, takes off his shoes and leaves them by the door; looks helplessly into his empty cupboard and then lies down on the couch. Every night finds him playing the same Nina Simone record on his ancient gramophone, resting his cheek against scratchy, flowery blue fabric, going nowhere, being no one, doing nothing. Going places, being himself, doing things--all of it seems blurry and far away, things that other people only do to keep themselves from turning into motionless lumps like Remus Lupin, the infamous pile of limbs and scarred flesh and pieces of heartbreak on an ugly sofa.

After James and Lily's funeral, and after the ceremony posthumously granting Peter his Order of Merlin, First Class, the owls begin to pour in, from Weasleys and Vances and elder Longbottoms and Dearborns. There are several from people he'd never heard of, people he never thought had known about his existence. Remus--do tell us how you're doing or How are you holding up? or Feel free to owl us at any time if you want to chat! Remus doesn't want to chat; and he has no idea how he is holding himself up, it seems to be happening whether he wants it to or not; and he doesn't want to tell anyone how he's doing because that includes chatting.

Remus throws away every letter but one. He keeps that in the pocket of his favorite pair of jeans, and the reassuring crinkle when his fingers brush against it is a dangerous reminder that there is another way.

~*~

The first full moon after is killer, in that he nearly dies. The next morning found Remus Lupin lying on the cold steel floor of a cold steel room, covered in blood and cuts that ran deeper than anyone could immediately tell. His mother was the first person at the scene of the disaster. He remembers squinting his eyes at her to see the brief motion of a hand over her sad, surprised O of a mouth before she hurried to his side and began the healing charms. Unconsciousness claimed him for the rest of the day until he awoke in the secluded magical creatures ward of St. Mungo's, which he hadn't seen since he was about twelve.

He wonders if this is what it will be like for the rest of his life, and if so, then he is not surprised that the wolf tried to murder him.

~*~

There are still Order meetings sometimes, although they are becoming more and more infrequent in these months after the end of the war. Remus hasn't attended a single one since All Saints' Day, before Sirius had even--but this afternoon, the memory of the day Harry said his first word ("p'foot") pushes him towards the secluded beach cottage which has been serving as the unlikely location of the Order Headquarters. He climbs the four small steps that lead to the door, and wonders how he can possibly withstand the inevitable pitying expressions waiting inside. How he will he fend off the soft oh Remuses and the careful how goes its?

The bright airiness inside always surprises him. The colorful seashells and lighthouses decorating the walls with cliched whimsy don't really match the dark secrets and talk of war that he has come to associate with the cottage, and yet the decor feels welcoming nonetheless. His broken shoes clack loudly against the wooden floors as he makes his way to the large dining room which doubles as their meeting space, slipping into a straight-backed chair in a corner. Nobody seems to notice his entrance, or else they sense that he doesn't want them to.

The familiar faces engaged in conversation all around him are weary but their eyes shine with rekindled hope--definitely an improvement on the constant gravity he'd grown used to. At least the deaths of his friends weren't completely useless. At least that night had led to something good--not for him, but for people he cared about, like Molly Weasley, who is beginning to gain back her rosy cheeks and the weight she'd lost worrying about her family every hour of every day. Andromeda Tonks leans over and in a conspiratorial whisper colored with excitement, divulges that Molly is pregnant with her seventh child. Remus lets a smile settle onto his lips, and although he is happy for Molly and Arthur--even if he privately thinks seven children is a little much--he is doubtful that the smile manages to reach his eyes.

Dumbledore clears his throat, and the room falls into an attentive silence. "Welcome, friends," he begins, a familiar twinkle in his eyes and a knowing warmth in his voice.

Remus wonders--not for the first time--what, exactly, it is that Dumbledore knows. Does he know enough that he could have stopped Halloween from happening? Could he have saved his friends, or Alice and Frank, or even Caradoc Dearborn? An inkling of resentment blooms in Remus's stomach, and he swallows. This way lies madness, he reminds himself. Dumbledore was the first person in the magical world who gave him a chance. Without him Remus would be--what? He doesn't want to know what he'd be without Hogwarts. Without Dumbledore, every single one of them (who them means, Remus isn't sure) would be lost, wouldn't they? He makes himself focus on Dumbledore's words.

"--I would warn you that complacency will be the enemy we must fight in these brighter days. Yes, Voldemort has been defeated, and not without significant sacrifice, but I dare not claim that this defeat is one that is lasting." Dumbledore briefly closes his eyes, and when he opens them he adds with urgency, "Harry Potter must be protected at all costs."

The mention of Harry brings to Remus's mind the warm and heartbreaking feeling of what it is like to hold a sleeping baby in his arms. He doesn't want children, never has--except when Harry is in his arms, breathing contently, exhausted from a day chasing after Padfoot or trying out his new toy broomstick.

"--We must not drown ourselves in sorrow for the ones we have lost, but use this time--"

Remus is most comfortable when he is unobtrusive, but he can't help the sudden, overwhelming urge to leave. There is too much here, in this house, with this group of people. Too many things that scream: James and Lily sat there, Alice and Frank sat there, remember when Peter finally beat Kingsley Shacklebolt at Exploding Snap there?, remember the first time Harry smiled at you there?, remember the time Sirius kissed you there even though McGonagall was only fifteen feet away?

He stands, muttering a half-hearted "Pardon me," and before he can even begin to feel sorry for disrupting one of Dumbledore's speeches, quickly walks down the hall and out onto the beach, where he immediately Disapparates. The sound of waves breaking gently on the shore is still rushing in his ears when he lands on the small plot of grass in front of the building of his flat.

A deep breath, the steeling of nerves. He leans against a nearby tree, wondering what to do with himself--the same thing he's been wondering for the last twenty-three years of his life. He decides to pay his rent, because he can't think of anything more normal.

The walk to his landlady's house isn't far, and there is enough activity on the street to give Remus something else to think about for a bit. Something other than the fact that he's just walked out of an Order meeting; other than Harry's smile, or James's protectiveness, or the smell of Lily's shampoo. Most of all, he doesn't want to think of Sirius's barking laughter, or to ask himself again, why?

Mrs. Figg greets him almost immediately after knocking. "Hello, Mr. Lupin," she welcomes him, the chapped corners of her wrinkled mouth turned down--not in unfriendliness, he thinks. "What brings you here?"

"Just paying the rent, Mrs. Figg. How are you?" He reaches into his pocket for the small purse he keeps there, bigger on the inside than it looks on the outside. There isn't much money in it, Muggle or magic.

The frown on Mrs. Figg's face grows deeper. "But you're already paid for. For the next year, in fact."

"Sorry? I--"

"Mr. Black," she explains. "He came by about a month ago--" The surprise and strange sense of betrayal he feels must be evident on his face, because she adds quickly, "He told me you two had discussed it."

"Well... thank you, Mrs. Figg. I suppose I must have forgotten."

He turns to go, but Mrs. Figg stops him. "I'm just giving you my notice--I'm moving to Surrey soon." She leans towards him and lowers her voice. "Order business."

"The Order officially disbanded today, ma'am," he replies, dreading yet another change to the routine life he's grown used to these past few years.

A faint smile appears on her face. "I'll be watching over Harry Potter," she explains, clearly pleased. "Dumbledore assigned me especially."

"Oh," says Remus. The news leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Arabella Figg is a Squib; Remus is second in line as Harry's godfather. Surely this would be an assignment better left to him? Is he meant to idly stand by and not take part in Harry's life at all? The bloom of resentment takes hold and grows stronger. "Congratulations? Thank you for letting me know."

"Happy holidays, Remus," Mrs. Figg says, retreating into the darkness of her home, all traces of that faint smile gone.

"Happy holidays," Remus replies quietly, turning away. When he reaches the street, he takes out the letter from his pocket and reads it once more.

~*~

November 6th, 1981
Dear Remus Lupin,

You might not remember me. My name is Frannie Roberts, and I was in the year below yours in school when I was still Frannie Midgen. I'm writing because I have always admired you and your friends, and because I understand what it is like to lose the people you love the most. I married a Muggle about a year after I left Hogwarts. I didn't think I would ever fall in love with a Muggle--I'm pureblood, you see, and I don't have anything against Muggles, but it just never occurred to me that I might marry one.

Anyway, my parents belonged to the sort who followed around He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and even though I tried my best to hide it, they found us out. They murdered him. It was honestly the worst thing that had ever happened to me. It still is. I asked a friend to perform a memory charm on me, and I forgot everything I ever knew about Evan.

It worked until I had my daughter, whose eyes are exactly like his--it all came rushing back. At first, it was terrifying--but eventually, I came to realize that the Obliviation was a terrible idea. It is painful, these memories of our loved ones, and they will be painful for the rest of our lives, but there is something wonderful about them too. Without your friends, who would you have become? Without my husband (and our daughter), who would I have become?

Just a bit of encouragement, I hope. I'm sorry for intruding on you, and I'm sorry for your loss.

Sincerely,
Frannie Roberts

Remus does remember Frannie Midgen. She was a pale Ravenclaw girl with mousy hair and teeth too big for her mouth. She was made prefect in her fifth year, liked to study at a table near his own favorite in the library, and often sat alone at lunch, reading romance novels without even bothering to disguise the covers. He hadn't spoken to her much, but he remembered that she was one of the few people that never got on his nerves with stupid comments during prefect meetings. She's not the only school acquaintance to send him a letter like this, but he hasn't read most of the others, and he especially doesn't keep any of the others in his pocket.

~*~

The next few days after the Order meeting, Remus feels strangely at peace. Nobody has Owled him or asked him if he'll be all right. He still refuses to sleep in his bed, but at least the money he'd been saving for rent can go towards buying some decent food for once.

The last day of November finds him sitting at the tiny dining table--more of a card table, really--quietly eating a bowl of pasta and staring at the wall in front of him. He wonders if perhaps he should get a cat. He's always loved cats, but every time he asks Sirius, the reply is always that cats and Sirius Blacks do not mix. He should get a cat anyway, without telling Sirius, just to see how he'd react, and Remus laughs at the thought.

He expects Sirius to come out of the bathroom at any moment--Sirius takes more showers than anyone Remus knows--a towel wrapped around his waist, bellowing "What's that I smell? More of your poncy gourmet cooking?" but of course nothing comes--nothing comes, and nothing will ever come again.

Remus slams down his bowl. His hands are shaking and when he stands, his knees nearly buckle. He shakes his head angrily at himself and--finally, at last--makes a decision.

Without further ceremony, he grabs his coat and Disapparates to Knockturn Alley.

The street is cold and almost empty but for a few straggling peddlers and other shady types skulking around corners. He pulls his coat collar around his ears and sticks his hands in his pockets. As he walks down the dirty street, his eyes scan shop windows until he finds the one he's looking for.

He pushes open the door. There are bells hanging above the doorframe, and they jingle out a cheerful song behind him as he makes his way to the desk. A woman with bright pink robes and carefully curled brown hair is sitting there. "Hello," she says with an unexpectedly warm smile. "Do you have an appointment? Memory-related or Dental?"

"Er--no. Um. This is--you can get an Obliviation charm here, right?"

The woman nods. "Yes, sir. Well, if you're a walk-in, you're just going to have to wait a bit longer. Have a seat, please, and fill out these forms."

She levitates a clipboard towards him and gestures to an area in one corner of the room. Lush blue armchairs are arranged around a coffee table, upon which lie several backdated copies of Witch Weekly, Wizards Quarterly, and Quidditch Today. He sits down in one of the armchairs and stares down at the parchment attached to the clipboard. It asks the usual--name, address, medical history, etc. He sighs and begins to fill in the blanks.

He'd seen this place dozens of times on missions for the Order, on his way towards the seedy hotel where he and the werewolves who worked for Voldemort often met. Its flashing neon sign--"Dr. Earlington: Memory Erasure - Memory Retrieval - Discounted Dental Spellwork"--had made him want to chuckle every time. He never imagined he'd actually ever step foot inside.

He hates filling out medical paperwork. He's done it often enough; a lifetime of lycanthropy and St. Mungo's visits guaranteed that. Somehow he trudges through, and it's only ten minutes after returning the clipboard to the receptionist when a tall man in long blue robes steps into the waiting area. "Remus Lupin?"

Remus nods. The man is not only tall--he's wide too. He's one of the largest men Remus has ever seen (excepting, of course, Hagrid), with a balding head of wispy, flyaway gray-blonde hair and brown eyes with deep shadows underneath. He looks as if he hasn't slept in at least five years and for some reason Remus trusts him despite the fact that there is something simultaneously compassionate and terrible about him. (Although maybe Remus should know better by now than to trust anyone.) He nods towards an open doorway, gesturing for Remus to follow him.

The hallway behind the front desk is short. In fact, there seem to be only four doors: one labeled "Memory," another labeled "Dental," one for "Storage," and the last labeled "Lavatory." The man leads Remus into the "Memory" room. The room is not as brightly-lit as the one Remus had been waiting in, and there is only one cushy blue armchair in front of a messy desk covered in stacks of paper. The man sits behind the desk and Remus takes the armchair.

"I'm Dr. Earlington, Remus. How do you do?"

Remus forces himself to smile. It's been one of the weirdest days of his life. It's been one of the weirdest years of his life. "Nice to meet you."

"You're here for the full Obliviation process?"

"Yes, sir. I--my friends, they--" He looks down at his hands, and then back up at Dr. Earlington, who looks ridiculous hunched over his desk. Remus coughs. "My friends, they died? Were killed, actually. Well, not my--well, one of them didn't die, really. He murdered another one--of my friends, that is--and they took him to Azkaban."

Dr. Earlington clears his throat. "Well, Remus, the Obliviations we do here are a bit more complex than your standard memory charm you learn at Hogwarts. These are state of the art, and as irrevocable and all-encompassing as possible. Do you understand?"

Remus nods. "And--is it quite expensive?"

"The process is not cheap, but we can work with you." Dr. Earlington leans forward, making the room seem even smaller. The charming smile on his face is both terrifying and damning. "Mr. Lupin, I have never had an unhappy patient."

Is that a threat? Remus does some quick math in his head--the rent is three hundred pounds a month (although Remus had only ever paid about a third of that), so a whole year's worth would be nearly four thousand.

It's too much, Sirius.

"Mr. Lupin?"

Remus looks up, startled. "Yes. Sorry. How does it work?"

The smile on Dr. Earlington's face only serves to make Remus even more nervous. "Well, as you might have learned at Hogwarts, memory charms are less like full erasure than they are like locking memories into inaccessible boxes of the mind. Because memories are part of the foundation of the self, erasing them completely would essentially turn one into a completely different person. Memories are--well, if your personality is a building, then memories are the arches and columns that support the building, except that usually with memories, the space beneath those arches isn't empty--all of that space would normally be filled with the content of the things you remember--sights, smells, words, sounds, etcetera. You take all of that way, fine, but you still need those supports to keep you the way you are. Er, as it were. That's why, with memory charms, some vestige of those memories must stay behind. Without them, your--youness, for lack of a better term--falls apart." The explanation sounds rehearsed--and then Remus realizes that, yes, obviously, it must be.

How many other witches and wizards have also turned to Dr. Earlington for the relief of ignorant bliss, he wonders? It is an odd thing to consider: that he is not alone in wanting (needing) to escape his most agonizing memories. He thinks of Frannie Midgen again.

"In some cases, memories that are particularly important to the formation of your self have to be completely recreated. It's all about taking out only the things which give your memory body, while keeping your essence intact. We've created a whole set of Obliviation charms that keep those personality supports in place, while at the same time lock most of the actual memory content itself so that the chances of setting those memories free again goes from about a 37% chance to a 6% chance. Are you with me, Mr. Lupin?"

Remus nods eagerly, although it might be an overstatement to say that he is paying the utmost attention to Dr. Earlington. His mind is traveling the bumpy road down from Frannie Midgen and her husband, to whether one of his friends would do this were they in the same place, to another stab of realization that he doesn't really know his friends that well anyway.

"Unfortunately," continues the doctor, "that does not mean that memory access is completely impossible. And sometimes ghosts of memories sort of--if we're going with the mind as a building analogy, memories sort of get permanently painted onto the walls of your mind, and it is incredibly difficult to erase those. Sometimes, we may not catch them all--although we will certainly try our best." He gives Remus a significant look. The overwhelming largeness of this man is what truly squashes any inclination Remus might have had to stand up and walk away from this inevitable mess. Years later, he will probably attribute the main reason for his decision to go through with the memory charm to the terrible size of Dr. Earlington.

There is a long pause in the office. Remus stares at the wall behind the man in front of him. It is decorated with pictures of what Remus assumes is Dr. Earlington's large, animated family, including a peculiar photograph which looks as if someone has been erased from it: a plump blonde woman grins widely, her arm wrapped around thin air. Every so often she leans down and kisses something that isn't there.

Remus looks down at his hands. "Will I remember that I came here?"

"We do everything in our power to assure that you have no recollection of having sought our help." The significant, unreadable look has not disappeared from Dr. Earlington's face when Remus returns his gaze there. "Are you ready to do this, Mr. Lupin?"

A knot has been tying itself in Remus's stomach since he sat down in the cushy blue armchair in this too-small office, and now it threatens to rise up into his throat. He swallows, trying to push it down, and gives the doctor a firm nod. He figures if he appears confident about this decision, actual confidence will follow. "Yes, sir," he says, hoping his voice does not betray his rapidly thumping heart or the heady dizziness of adrenaline rushing into his head, "I believe I am."

~*~

After further explanation, it becomes clear that the whole procedure is a little more involved than Remus would have imagined. It requires Dr. Earlington actually coming into Remus's apartment--"Can't having you coming to in some office in the middle of Knockturn Alley with a giant man leaning over you, right?"--and Remus going over every memory, both precious and painful, of his friendship with Sirius, James, Peter, and Lily. He even explains Harry. It's a long story full of tangents and tangles and sometimes a bit of rummaging around in the dark, private corners of Remus's mind. All of this will go into a Pensieve, in case something goes wrong, and also because it would definitely be weird if Dr. Earlington walked around knowing every little detail of Remus's short life.

When he is finished with the story, it's after two in the morning. Dr. Earlington encourages him to write someone and inform them that Remus has made this choice, to avoid too much confusion after the procedure. Remus writes his mother, gripping the quill tightly and gritting his teeth against the protestations she would probably make. This is cowardice, Remus.

The letter is longer than Remus had assumed it would be, and while he writes it Dr. Earlington distracts himself by opening one of Remus's many books of poetry and humming to himself as he reads. When the letter is finished and sent off with Remus's owl Thor, Remus pays Dr. Earlington, and in return, Dr. Earlington gives Remus a very strong relaxation draught. Remus falls asleep almost immediately, without much time to give any more thought to the possibility that Dr. Earlington could be conning him--but he sat and listened to Remus's entire life story, so he can't help but trust him.

Remus dreams of

Sirius, the first night at Hogwarts, angrily knocking him over on his way up to the boys' dormitory.

James, after his first (successful) date with Lily, all smiles and carefree hands resting on his friends' shoulders and no worries.

Lily, and the pleased content on her face as she held an exhausted Harry in her arms after three hours of first birthday fun.

Peter, the day they all had an impromptu snowball fight and he'd triumphed over his three friends by hiding in a hollow tree, only to pop out at the last minute, firing with what must have been dozens of carefully prepared snowballs.

Harry, his arms wrapped around Padfoot's neck, his face nuzzling the soft black fur.

and so on and so on, each memory twisting into something warped and wrong the further Remus gets from it, and he wants to run and cling to these few happy moments but he can never break past the invisible walls holding him back from the beckoning warmth.

In the morning, he finds he has a massive, pounding headache for no apparent reason. He slowly, reluctantly opens his eyes, yawns and stretches, and wonders why he's lying on his ugly couch, and not in his bed where he belongs.

January 1982

Should someone happen to pass by Remus's parents' house--and it is unlikely that anyone will, the Lupins' little cottage in the country having been chosen for the express purpose of hiding--they would be hard-pressed to surmise anything amiss about the unassuming shed, with its steel door painted white ("Mum, that doesn't change the fact that it's made of steel") and its path lined with rhododendron plants. Even in the raw winter moonlight, it looks more like it houses shelves and shelves of cutesy sewing supplies for a middle-aged quilter than a cold, dark place meant to incarcerate a werewolf.

The howl of the wind is plaintive against the heavy brick walls, and the wolf responds once again in kind. He throws himself against the door, although on the inside it certainly isn't painted white. Rather, it is riddled with nearly two decades of dents and scratches and smudges of something brown that could be rust or could be bloodstains.

The strong door is unyielding, and it bruises besides. The wolf lets out a short, keening whine, on a high-pitched frequency that mightn't be heard by human passersby, and crouches down to lick the deep gash on his shoulder. It is around three AM; sunrise is near, and the wolf is beginning to tire--but that does not mean the quest for escape will end before the first rays of sunshine peek through the small, high window.

There are things a wolf keeps in its memory that a human cannot. The scent of an incoming storm. An overwhelming sense of pack. The pride that comes with being alpha. And things like: Padfoot, the edges of his black fur fading into the shadows until he wasn't really there at all, waiting for the moment to pounce like a cat, only with less assurance that he would land on his feet. Prongs, calm and expectant by a window, looking out into the blackness. The deafening crash of thunder sounding a dangerous invitation to the freedom offered by a rainy night, and Moony wanting out. Clawed against the door, growling from the depths of his belly. They must wait for the rat to return, for there to be a signal that all was clear, and it was taking too long. The wolf threw himself against a wall in impatient anger, and Padfoot was distracted from his stance to nip at Moony's legs. The wolf nipped back and soon they were wrestling on the ground, playful growls and barks emitting from them both. Eventually, Wormtail returned with the good news that hours of running and playing in mud and all kinds of interesting smells awaited them.

There is no such invitation to freedom tonight, and the wolf does not hate anything so much as imprisonment. He howls again, his cry full-to-bursting with inexpressible melancholy, before once again throwing the full weight of his body against the nearest wall. The howl echoes all around, bouncing between impenetrable cement and brick.

~*~

"Again, Remus?" Sarah's annoyance is unmistakable even through the telephone. Sarah is the single mother of a fussy two-year-old named Zachary, and is usually the only person ever willing to pick up Remus's shifts at the Muggle bookstore where he works. She's perpetually exhausted, tough as nails, and takes absolutely no shit, but she and Remus have a mutual understanding that would be friendship if they ever had the chance to spend more time with each other. He likes her and wishes he didn't have to take advantage of her desperation for more hours so often.

"I'm sorry--it's just, there's this thing with my grandmother--complications, you know--" The most recent lie is that his grandmother is in hospital for something terminal and hard to explain. It's vague and a definite cop out, but he hasn't been able to come up with a better lie. Anyway, sometimes the vague lies are the most believable.

Sure enough, Sarah's annoyance transforms into concern. "Oh, I hadn't realized. How is she?"

"Erm. Quite well," says Remus. Then, shaking his head at his own stupidity and then wincing at the pain caused by the movement, "I mean, quite well given her condition. Others with the same--illness--don't usually fare so well..."

"That's good, then?" offers Sarah.

"Sure, sure." A pause. "So... my shift? You can take it?"

Sarah makes a resigned humming sound. "I suppose. You'd better pray the regular sitter's available."

Remus isn't sure he believes in God, but he prays anyway, because his face is covered with scratches, there's a deep gash across his chest and another down the side of his thigh, and he's dislocated his shoulder again. He'll probably have healed by tomorrow but today he's not in any state to be going into work.

When Remus hangs up the telephone--one of the many handy additions to the cottage that seemed to Remus as if one day they had simply walked in of their own accord, found a good place to sit, and settled in for the long haul, no human assembly required--he looks up to see his mother leaning against his door frame. She's watching him with a strange look on her face, but he barely has time to interpret it, for the very next moment she's bustling around, collecting the empty dishes from his ferociously devoured lunch and fluffing the pillows behind his back.

"Are you comfortable enough, love? How's your shoulder?" Years ago, her voice would have been frightened and worried, her tired shoulders hunched over her tall, lanky form, and there would have been darker shadows under her eyes from staying up all night listening to her only son howl at the moon. She is experienced now; if she feels any of those things this morning, she hides it well. Except for the shadows--those have been there for as long as Remus can remember. She rubs the tip of her long nose, places a hand on her hip, and looks down at Remus.

At her expectant smile, a familiar, comfortable fondness makes its warm presence known somewhere in the vicinity of his heart, only intensified by the sight of a dusty blue flower bursting forth from its perch behind her ear. He thinks back on his Hogwarts years--seven whole years of transformations without his mother's kind touch each morning after--and wonders how he ever managed to survive. He must have gotten through somehow, because here he is, rolling his eyes affectionately and turning down a fifth sandwich.

He actually thinks it's quite strange that he remembers so little of the full moons of his school years. He imagines they all must have been so painful that his brain had buried the memories somewhere deep, although he can't imagine any of those transformations being worse than last night. It would be a wonderful gift if his brain chose to bury the memory of this morning in that same deep place. Remus aches just thinking about it, in places he's sure haven't been injured.

At twenty-three, he wonders if he isn't too old to be spending nights at his parents' house like this--and he's certainly too old to be nursed back to health by his mother every time.

She sits next to him on his bed and takes his hand. "I hate to see you like this," she tells him softly. "The past few years, it--you were--somehow, it hasn't been so bad. But ever since autumn..." She trails off, distracted, and begins to stand. Remus catches her wrist and grips it too fiercely--he always has trouble estimating his strength on Mornings After.

Remus tilts his head and frowns at her, hoping the question is clear on is face because his eyes are beginning to flutter, he's beginning to fall prey to exhaustion. "Mum?" He releases her wrist, but she doesn't move away.

The corners of her eyes crinkle and she sighs. "I miss when you were a terrified kid, with hardly the guts to step foot onto the Hogwarts Express."

Remus tries to chuckle, but all that comes out is a tired sigh through his nose. The last thing he hears before he is asleep is the clatter of dishes as his mother carries them out of his bedroom.

February 1983
----

bribitribbit — Mon, 11 Apr 2011 12:49:15 GMT

Hello long-forgotten flist! I know that it is a long time until summer and in fact this should probably be a spring playlist, but it seems to be tradition for me to jump the gun and post my summertime playlist way before I should. And besides, it is going to be 80F here today. No time like the present, etc etc!

1. Green Onions--Booker T. & the MGs
2. Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay--Otis Redding
3. Ode to Billie Joe--Bobbie Gentry
4. The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy)--Simon & Garfunkel
5. King of the Road--Roger Miller
6. Sway--Rosemary Clooney
7. J'Ai Deux Amors--Madeline Peyroux
8. Summertime--Janis Joplin
9. Write About Love (feat. Carey Mulligan)--Belle & Sebastian
10. Doo Wop (That Thing)--Lauryn Hill
11. I Just Want to Make Love to You--The Rolling Stones
12. Magic (feat. Rivers Cuomo)--B.O.B.
13. Black Sheep--The Clash at Demonhead
14. Sh'Boom--The Crew Cuts
15. The Joker--Steve Miller Band
16. Hotel Yorba--The White Stripes
17. It's Not Unusual--Tom Jones
18. Hands Open--Snow Patrol
19. Reunion (Jason Corbett)--Stars
20. Right as Rain--Adele
21. Anti Love Song--Betty Davis
22. (Bonus Track!) Mannish Boy--Erykah Badu
(it's a bonus because it's a fan edit of the H&M commercials in which the song is featured--I can't find the original Erykah Badu version ANYWHERE but if I had been able to it would have definitely been in this mix!)

The .zip file can be found here.

2009.
2010.

you sing a sad song just to turn it around

bribitribbit — Tue, 25 Jan 2011 00:40:22 GMT

MY, it has been a long time since I wrote porn for porn's sake! But here is a little bit of something (well, 1350 words) for Porn Battle XI. :D

Coach Bolton is "disappointed" in him, apparently. Disappointed because Chad's not spending enough time training, not being a good captain, spending too much time with Ryan instead of hanging out with the team. That last one was never explicitly mentioned, but he knows it's how the guys feel. In some ways, Chad gets it. After all, he once almost fucked Troy over when he first got into the whole musicals thing just because Troy wasn't spending every waking moment with the Wildcats, but he never thought he'd see the rest of the team turn on him like this. Then again, they don't think Chad's ditching them for a significant other. They think he's ditching them for new friends, which probably hurts worse.

The lecture kept him forty five minutes longer than the rest of the team, so the locker room is completely empty. Everyone else is already home or on their way. Chad scrubs furiously at his sweaty curls with a towel, even though the inevitable result will be a mess of frizz sitting on top of his head. He throws the towel into his locker and slam the door shut. He should probably take a shower, but right now what he wants to do is get home, and fast.

He's almost reached the locker room door when he crashes into something solid and warm. He looks up quickly to apologize, and there's Ryan, a green fedora nearly falling off his head and an apologetic smile on his face. Ryan reaches up to fix his hat. "Going somewhere, Wildcat?"

The warm flip that Chad's stomach always does when he sees Ryan is extra annoying today. Seriously, he just wants to go home. Ryan reaches to pull affectionately at one of Chad's curls, even though they have a strict no-touching-in-public-spaces rule. Well, it's Chad's rule, but Ryan agreed to cooperate.

Chad catches Ryan's wrist, his hand wrapping so firmly around it that he wonders if the flicker that flashes across Ryan's eyes is pain. "I'm not in the mood," he says in a low, warning voice.

Ryan pulls his arm out of Chad's grasp, raising his hands so that his palms are facing Chad in surrender. "Geez, sorry. What's your issue?" He must see Chad's expression morph into an instant thundercloud because he opens his mouth to correct himself, but it's already too late.

Chad pushes him against the nearest wall. Pinning him there with both hands, Chad leans close and growls, "Leave me alone."

Ryan struggles, kicking Chad's shin in the process. Chad doesn't let go. "I just wanted to know what was wrong." He finally manages to push Chad away, and something in Chad snaps. He throws a punch and hits Ryan square in the jaw.

He's had a really bad day.

Ryan takes all of two seconds to react, and then suddenly limbs are flying and they're wrestling on the ground. Ryan thumps Chad right in the middle of his chest, which feels worse than it really should, but what people don't understand about Ryan is that for all his lean, ballet-thin wiriness, he's still an athlete and he's just as strong as any other guy Chad's ever gotten into a fistfight with. Probably stronger. (For the record, Chad's only been in two fights: one with Troy, back when they had a serious month-long falling out at the age of thirteen, and the other with Logan Rettinger in sophomore year for spreading a rumor that Troy and Chad were dating.)

Six minutes, two black eyes (Chad's) and at least four new bruises (Ryan's) later, Chad is straddling Ryan's stomach, pinning Ryan's arms to the floor, and Ryan is looking up at him with swollen lips, and those stupidly long eyelashes, and Chad can't help but think: he likes Ryan so much. Even when he wants to beat the living shit out of him. So Chad leans down and presses his mouth to Ryan's.

Chad is actually surprised at Ryan's quick and pleased response. He thought that after being such a jerk, he'd be pushed away and they'd break up or something. But instead Ryan is already slipping his tongue between Chad's lips and it almost scares Chad how familiar this already feels, even though they've only been--dating, making out, whatever--for about two months. He's also amazed at how good it feels, even though every part of him is sore.

Ryan's mouth moves across Chad's jaw and his tongue licks a path up behind Chad's ear. It makes Chad shiver and his grasp on Ryan's wrists slackens. Ryan sits up underneath Chad, reaches behind his head, and tugs back Chad's frizzy hair. He licks at Chad's Adam's apple, leaving Chad so dazed that he hardly even notices when Ryan pushes him down onto the ground, Chad's legs still wrapped around Ryan's torso.

Ryan squirms away, brushing against Chad's erection as he does so. The pressure is gone all too soon, and Chad would protest except that Ryan is pushing up Chad's shirt and mouthing his way up Chad's stomach towards his left nipple, which he licks into delicious hardness.

Chad moans, arching his back. Ryan's mouth meets his again and Chad slips one hand into the impossibly soft hair at the nape of Ryan's neck while the other scratches up Ryan's back. Ryan makes a small, whimpering sound and shifts. Suddenly, Chad can feel the hardness of Ryan's dick through his jeans against his hip. Chad's own erection is pressed against Ryan's thigh. He wriggles experimentally against Ryan and the wonderful sound that escapes Ryan's perfect, pink O of a mouth makes Chad reach desperately for Ryan's fly.

Ryan grabs his wrist and pins it back against the floor. He moves against Chad, and then they're rubbing against each other, first slowly and then faster, sharing open-mouthed kisses and heavy, wet breaths. They've almost reached an approximation of some kind of rhythm when Ryan begins moving with abandon, dropping his head onto Chad's shoulder, his mouth a hot imprint against Chad's neck. The friction is incredible, and Chad can't help but buck against Ryan's hips.

Suddenly Ryan makes a tiny sound and Chad can feel him shuddering. Wetness spreads across the front of Ryan's jeans and onto Chad's shorts, but Chad doesn't care. He takes Ryan's hand and presses it against the straining jersey that is all that is between his skin and Ryan's sweaty palm. Ryan pulls his hand away and Chad feels his annoyance returning, but then Ryan slips his fingers underneath the elastic of Chad's basketball shorts. The sensation of Ryan's palm wrapped around his dick is too much for Chad. He comes right then and there, his head rolling back and his legs clamping around Ryan.

When their breath returns, Ryan rolls away and Chad sits up. "I'm definitely going to need a shower now," he says, rubbing his hand against his eye.

Ryan is helpless with laughter beside him, covering his eyes with his arm. Chad frowns at him. "What's so funny?"

It's a few seconds before Ryan can respond. Finally, peeking out from underneath his arm, he replies, "You just had--sex, or something, I don't know--with another guy for the first time in the locker room. And all you can think to say is, 'I'm definitely going to need to shower'?"

Chad grins. "How do you know it was the first time?"

Ryan chuckles again and pushes his bicep playfully. "Don't be a douchebag."

There's a brief moment of quiet, Ryan sprawled on the floor and Chad's knees drawn up against his chest. Then Chad says, "Hey--I'm sorry for being such an asshole earlier. I've just had a really bad day."

Ryan doesn't miss a beat when he replies, "If that's you being an asshole, I'd like to see you be one more often." He pauses. "So--what does this mean for the no-touching-in-public-spaces rule?"

Chad smiles. "We'll just have to find out." He lays down next to Ryan and presses a gentle kiss to his lips, and already knows that this bad day is only going to get a lot better.

your loveliness goes on and on, yes it does

bribitribbit — Tue, 18 Jan 2011 15:44:58 GMT

It's been three whole days since I last bit my nails, school has officially begun and yet I have no class until tomorrow because I only have class on Mondays and Wednesdays, and best of all, I made a midwinter playlist, made entirely of songs I am currently obsessed with anyway.

Download the entire .zip file or the individual files:

My Sweet Lord--George Harrison
California Dreamin'--The Mamas & the Papas
Monday Monday Monday--Tegan & Sara
Ruby, Don't Take Your Love to Town--The Killers
I Hope That Something Better Comes Along--The Muppet Movie
Almost Persuaded--Etta James
They Can't Take That Away From Me--Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong
Mood Indigo--Nina Simone
Toothpaste Kisses--The Maccabees
Safe in My Garden--The Mamas & the Papas
Ne Me Quitter Pas--Regina Spektor
This Year's Love--David Gray
Into My Arms--Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds
Georgia on My Mind--Ray Charles
Unchained Melody--The Righteous Brothers
You've Got Me Wrapped Around Your Little Finger--Beth Rowley
Where Do You Go My Lovely--Peter Sarstedt
Bridges & Balloons--The Decemberists
Something's Coming--West Side Story

*a sort of picture credit

i was talking to her. your dream stinks.

bribitribbit — Tue, 11 Jan 2011 01:37:30 GMT

Okay, so, I don't think I have that many Disney fandomers on my flist--which is weird, since it's been my main fandom for at least a couple of years now, but whatever, Disney fandom is weird anyway--so I don't know how many people this will reach or whatever but I had this idea! Mostly inspired by the fact that I keep reading the same four or five Rapunzel/Flynn fics and I want more and I love the idea that it took them years and years before they agreed to marry and I just want more Disney fic! But it would be fun to have a challenge where, like, people wrote little ficlets about various moments in Rapunzel and Eugene's life where one of them asks the other to marry them and the answer is "no, not yet." I don't know! And then people could vote on who should write the one where the answer is finally yes? I don't know!

I have ideas like this all the time but I'm so unorganized and know so few people in Disney fandom (read: people who love Lilo & Stitch, Tangled, and Princess and the Frog as much as I do, and want to read and write fic about them) that none of them ever gets done. But this one would be cute! Right? Right?

lol no I would probably be the only participating :(

yuletide reveals!

bribitribbit — Sat, 01 Jan 2011 19:56:22 GMT

I defaulted but I ended up writing two treats anyway. :)

Picnic in the Park, iCarly, Sam/Carly, PG
Sam prepares an anniversary picnic for Carly.

Untitled, Lilo & Stitch, Nani gen, G
Nani gets her first report card.

Hopefully next year I won't be so much of a failure! hahaha

ah but in case i stand one little chance

bribitribbit — Fri, 31 Dec 2010 17:05:54 GMT

Ella Fitzgerald
Stacie Orrico
The Brian Setzer Orchestra
Rufus Wainwright
Kay Kyser and his Orchestra

View Poll: #1662671

2010 has been a wonderful year for me. Full of downs, but with more than its fair share of ups. I'm excited for 2011--graduating, having a real job, figuring out how to be a grown up. Happy new year's, bbs. <3

P.S. On the off chance that you care, here is a list of books I read in 2010 and I would LOVE to talk about any one of them!

i'm only happy when it rains

bribitribbit — Wed, 15 Dec 2010 05:34:14 GMT

I'm almost done!! Five more pages on this one paper, but I'm all packed, my room is clean, most of my finals are done! I'M SO HAPPY. I'm going home. Ish. I'm going to my family anyway and I MISS THEM. Unfortunately, I'm... not much of anywhere on my Yuletide, and my life has been sucked by this one Remus fic I started writing last night. (There is so much Harry Potter fic in your future. WATCH OUT KIDS) WHATEVER IT WILL ALL GET DONE, AND I WILL GET TO WATCH iCARLY WHILE I DO IT.

I was going to upload a bunch of Christmas music like I always do, but this round of finals got the best of me and I simply haven't had time. My posts from previous years are here and here. Both are public for the month, but the first post is a mess, and the second one is much more well-organized. All the links should still be alive, and there are about 200 songs uploaded in all. :) Merry Christmas!

I've also been meaning to upload this one playlist I made for Gillian back in October that has kind of gotten me through the semester. It's basically a compilation of whiny/adorable teenie songs that I love, full of teenage feelings, crushes, and angst. It's very good for cleaning and paper-writing, I've found. I uploaded it for meredyd so I thought I'd share it with you! There are two .zip files because it's a lot of songs. But, um, I'm terrible at music organization. These are no in particular order, just the way they appear in their respective folders.

part one, 195MB
Candy--Mandy Moore
Everywhere--Michelle Branch
Fearless--Taylor Swift
Seventeen Forever--Metro Station
Teenage Dream--Katy Perry
The Climb--Miley Cyrus
Your Love is My Drug--Ke$ha
Do You Believe In Magic--The Lovin' Spoonful
Hold Me Tight--Evan Rachel Wood
I Wanna Hold Your Hand--T.V. Carpio
Never Had a Dream Come True--S Club 7
Fifteen--Taylor Swift
Reflection--Mulan
Burnin' Up--Jonas Brothers
Hopelessly Devoted to You--Grease
Just a Little Bit--Maria Mena
Only Happy When it Rains--Garbage
Sadie Hawkins Dance--Relient K
Shark in the Water--V.V. Brown
Stars are Blind--Paris Hilton
The Bitch of Living--Spring Awakening
I Can Hear the Bells--Hairspray
My Junk--Spring Awakening
Teenage Love Song--Rilo Kiley
A Better Son/Daughter--Rilo Kiley
I Touch Myself--Scala
Jenny, You're Barely Alive--Rilo Kiley
Sixteen Going on Seventeen--Sound of Music
Everytime We Touch--Cascada
I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself--Gary Puckett
Just Hold Me--Maria Mena
Lonely Pew--Reefer Madness
Mix Tape--Avenue Q
Part of Your World (Reprise)--The Little Mermaid
Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off--Panic at the Disco
Gotta Go My Own Way--HSM (;______;)
Edge of Seventeen--Stevie Nicks
Just a Girl--No Doubt
Like a Virgin--Madonna
Kiss Me--Newfound Glory
Love is a Battlefield--Pat Benatar
Make Damn Sure--Taking Back Sunday

part two, 106MB
Ironic--Alanis Morissette
Holding Out For a Hero--Bonnie Tyler
Mr. Brightside--The Killers
Totally Fucked--Spring Awakening
Welcome to the Black Parade--My Chemical Romance
Such Great Heights--The Postal Service
A Thousand Miles--Vanessa Carlton
Aaron's Party (Come Get It)--Aaron Carter
Mister Cellophane--Chicago
Big Girls Don't Cry--Fergie
I Want You--Fiona Apple
Over My Head--The Fray
Bullet with Butterfly Wings--Frida Snell
Friday I'm In Love--The Cure
Clint Eastwood--Gorillaz
The Reason--Hoobastank
SOS (acoustic)--Jonas Brothers
Mine--Taylor Swift
Mickey--Toni Basil
Truly Madly Deeply--Savage Garden

EDIT:
meredyd: teenie you was way more upbeat than teenie me
meredyd: dang
bribitribbit: lol
bribitribbit: but this isn't really repping teenie me
bribitribbit: just sort of the teenie ideal
meredyd: ah, gotcha
meredyd: like a teenie in a dcom
bribitribbit: exactly.
meredyd: she listens to this mix as she stares out the window of her house in anytown, california, watching her next door neighbor who she has a crush on skateboard off the little ramp thing he made in his driveway.
meredyd: will she gather the courage to ask him to the winter formal??

bribitribbit — Thu, 09 Dec 2010 13:42:28 GMT

2005.
2006.
2007.
2008.
2009.

1. What did you do in 2010 that you’d never done before? I went caving! Probably my number one favorite part of the year.

2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?  Clearly I was in a Hallmark kind of mood when I made my resolutions this year. I think I did manage to be braver, in some ways--I certainly pushed myself to do a lot of things I previously had never even considered myself capable of doing--double majoring, opening up to my friends. I read a lot of books, definitely more than I read in 2009.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?  I don't think so.

4. Did anyone close to you die?  Fortunately, no.

5. What countries did you visit? As usual, none. My family moved to Alabama now?

6. What would you like to have in 2011 that you lacked in 2010? A degree? A full-time job after I graduate?

7. What dates from 2010 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? This one is always hard for me. I honestly don't know.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Declaring a double major! Finishing a short story when I hadn't written anything original in years! Getting myself the fuck to a therapist before winter began. Watching Avatar! Getting two 4.0s when I had never gotten one at all!

9. What was your biggest failure?  The moments where I wasn't strong enough to hold my friendships together, or talk to the people who could help me through certain things.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?  I burned my arm on Parade Night. hahahaha.

11. What was the best thing you bought?  If I get this dress from ModCloth, that will be the thing. Otherwise, Sims 3.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration? Mo Willems, because I discovered I love him! My mom. Sokka. My friends.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? What a loaded question. Some people at camp this summer, who were crap at existing.

14. Where did most of your money go? Probably food and DVDs. Also, my Lady Gaga ticket.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Disney World (even though I'm not going), camp, picture books, my thesis, Lady Gaga, realizing that I could potentially work for Pixar someday and that it doesn't have to be a pipe dream.

16. What song will always remind you of 2010?  "Oh No" by Marina & the Diamonds, "The Dog Days are Over" by Florence + the Machine, "The Devil in Disguise" by Elvis Presley.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:  
a) happier or sadder? happier
 b) thinner or fatter? just as fat as always
c) richer or poorer? richer

18. What do you wish you’d done more of? Extraordinary things

19. What do you wish you’d done less of? Avoiding people/situations/leaving my room.

20. How will you be spending Christmas?  With my family in Alabama.

21. Did you fall in love in 2010?  No.

22. How many one-night stands? None.

23. What was your favorite TV program? Avatar, Modern Family, Futurama, iCarly.

24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? I really, really, REALLY dislike this one person that I work with, but I wouldn't say I hate her. I do hate my stupid Virginia Woolf class though.

25. What was the best book you read?  Hard question. The Dairy Queen books, anything by Mo Willems, Fever 1793, Graceling and Fire, Smile.

26. What was your greatest musical discovery?  Marina and the Diamonds, Florence + the Machine, Elvis Presley, Janelle Monae, a love for shitty pop music.

27. What did you want and get?  Better friendships with people I've sort of been acquainted to but hadn't really got to know.

28. What did you want and not get? A girlfriend?

29. What was your favorite film of this year? An Education and Toy Story 3 by far. Deathly Hallows, too.

30. What did you do on your birthday? I watched Jurassic Park with my friends and played a drinking game and got way too drunk.

31. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? If I wasn't so nervous around other people.

32. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2010?  "Maybe if I look cute always I will never be depressed! :D? :D?" <---same as last year

33. What kept you sane?  My friends, summer, Starbucks visits, preschool, reading, writing, Netflix.

34. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?  Emma Watson. HOT DAMN.

35. What political issue stirred you the most?  I got really interested in fighting rape culture particularly this year.

36. Who did you miss? Friends who went abroad. Friends who graduated. My mom.

37. Who was the best new person you met? MESS AND GIGGLES.

38. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2010? "If you can dream it, you can do it."

39. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:  "I will beat the odds/I can go the distance/I will face the world/fearless, proud and strong"

the first of like three neville fics!

bribitribbit — Mon, 29 Nov 2010 03:07:05 GMT

Title: Especially in the Month of June
Fandom: Harry Potter (Neville gen)
Rating: PG
Summary: Six-year-old Neville Longbottom learns about his parents.
Word Count: about 3300
Notes: I feel like I should dedicate everything I write to meredyd. She is the best cheerleader.

"He's still too young." Neville can hear Gran and Gramp speaking outside his bedroom door. He can't hear Gramp's reply, because his voice sounds like what Neville thinks a mountain would sound like if mountains could talk, all rumbly and deep, so Neville is not very good at eavesdropping on him.

Gran is always saying things like that, and Neville suspects the "he" is himself, but he isn't sure what he's too young for. Perhaps it's Quidditch. Neville isn't sure if he minds this. It certainly looks like fun when his cousins play, but once Great Uncle Algie took him up on a broom and after only about two minutes, Neville couldn't help but cry a little, he was so scared. So maybe it's a good thing that six years old is too young for Quidditch. He can wait a few years, until he's at Hogwarts.

Neville fantasizes about what life will be like when he will finally have his own wand, and can do magic like Gran, and what it will be like to fly and not be scared of being too high up. It isn't long before he turns over in his bed and falls asleep, clutching his teddy bear.

Several weeks later, Neville is sitting at the big chair in the living room, watching Gran use her wand to knit a scarf for Gramp. Gramp is always complaining about how cold it is.

There has been a question on Neville's mind for the past two weeks, ever since Gran's friend Ms. Bones visited with her niece Susie, as she did every month or so. He liked Susie very much; she thought of the most exciting games, a skill that Neville had never quite managed to accomplish. He liked Ms. Bones even better, because she was kind and always brought along sweets and winked when she greeted him. After Ms. Bones had given both Neville and Susie a Pumpkin Pasty--Neville's favorite--they went outside and played a complicated game in which Susie was an evil giantess and Neville was a wizard she was trying to trick.

They paused in their game, just after Susie had declared that she had turned Neville's Great Uncle Algie into a toad and that he would stay that way unless Neville did as she asked, and had a lemonade break. They sipped it on the steps at the front of the house.

"Why do you always come here with your aunt?" Neville asked Susie.

Susie shrugged. "I s'pose Auntie Amelia doesn't want to leave me at home alone."

"You live with her?" Neville was surprised. "I thought you lived with your mum and dad, like everyone else!"

Susie frowned and tugged on one of her long brown plaits. "I dunno," she said after a few moments. "I haven't got a mum or dad." She paused. "I thought you hadn't got any, either."

Neville blinked. "I... don't." He hadn't ever really thought about it before. He knew, but it had never seemed so obvious before.

"Oh," said Susie, before continuing, "Well, come on. Let's pretend that your Great Uncle Algie is deathly allergic to flies, which is bad because he's a toad and that's all they eat...."

Neville didn't think again about his new problem until later that night, when he was tucked into bed--and he hasn't been able to stop thinking about it since. So he watches Gran finish another row on Gramp's scarf before he says, "Gran, how come I call you that? How come I don't call anyone Mum or Dad?"

With shaking hands, Gran lowers her wand and knitting. Slowly, she raises her eyes to meet Neville's and says, "That's just the way things are."

Neville hates that answer, but it's the one Gran always gives. "Yes, I know," he says. "But why?"

"Stop asking questions, Neville, and go outside and play."

Disappointed, Neville gets up and goes outside, where he plays a game in which he is Harry Potter and he's destroying You-Know-Who. He even finds a twig that will work as a most appropriate wand.

Later, he sneaks up to Gran's vanity, and with her lipstick, draws a long zig-zagged scar in the middle of his forehead. He bounces downstairs and says, "Look, Gran, I'm the Boy Who Lived!"

Gran looks up at him. She is shaking harder than she was earlier, and her wrinkled face has gone completely white. "Neville Franklin Algernon Longbottom, go upstairs and take that off right now." Her voice is angrier than he's ever heard it, angrier even than she was at Great Uncle Algie when Neville tripped over his foot and fell off the North Pier in Blackpool.

Neville runs upstairs, and he scrubs off the make-up. He goes back downstairs to apologize, even though he isn't sure what he did wrong, but he stops in the doorway when he sees Gran hunched over in her armchair. She's covering her face with her hands--and it sounds like she's crying.

He has never seen her cry before.

He quietly walks back up to his room, and stays there for the rest of the night. He feels as if he's seen something very forbidden, and he doesn't want to accidentally stumble upon another such event ever again.

~*~

"Hullo, Gramp!" says Neville, mostly recovered from his fear the night before. He has a lollipop and his fingers are sticky. Gramp is in his bed, propped up by several pillows, reading the newspaper. Upon hearing Neville's voice, he folds it closed and lays it next to his hip.

"Good morning, Neville," he says with a tired smile. "How are you?"

"I'm good! Real good. Guess who gave me this lolly?" Neville climbs up to sit next to Gramp. Gramp never complains that Neville is getting his sweets, or his tea, or biscuit crumbs all over his blankets, like Gran usually does.

"Who?"

"You have to guess," says Neville reprovingly.

"Gran."

"Nope!"

"Er… Mr. Carlton from next door?"

"Nope! One more chance, Gramp!"

"Um, me?"

Neville laughs. "No, weird-o. It was Claire Sylvan, from down the street."

"Are you two particularly good friends?" Gramp chuckles.

"Well, she gave me a lolly," says Neville, as if this is answer enough. For him, it is.

"Aren't you going to share with your old gramps?"

Neville shakes his head, laughing. "No! It's mine."

"Fair enough. Besides, I think your gran is making me lunch."

Neville nods. "I just saw her downstairs."

"That woman," Gramp sighs. "All I need is coffee, and that's the only thing she won't give me." There is something warm in his voice.

As if on cue, Gran appears in the doorway, carrying a tray. There is a ham sandwich, a bowl of fruit, and a glass of milk--but no coffee. Not even a cup of tea.

"Neville, get off Gramp's bed, please," she says, setting the tray on Gramp's lap and leaning over to kiss him on the forehead. Neville scrambles off, and knocks over the milk on accident.

"Neville," begins Gran, sighing, but Gramp holds up his hand.

"Now, Augie, don't go being harder on him than he deserves. It was just an accident."

"Nothing's an accident," she mutters, but nonetheless, the worst punishment she gives Neville is to go get a towel to clean things up. Then she gets little Betty, the house-elf, to change the sheets. Gran helps Gramp into the spare room, and Neville licks his lolly as he follows them down the hall. They're speaking quietly, but Neville is too preoccupied with the sticky cherry flavor on his lips, so he doesn't listen to what they're saying.

They're headed into the bedroom. Neville goes to sit next to Gramp again. Gran looks at him, just realizing he is there, and shakes her head meaningfully. He sits in a chair instead.

The spare room has always interested him. He looks around, his lolly finished. There are two beds inside, usually for Great Uncle Algie and Great Auntie Enid, and it is, in Neville's opinion, the best room in the whole house--doubly so, in fact, since he is almost never allowed inside by himself. The walls are painted a pale yellow, and the room is filled with plants. Neville likes the flowers on the dresser the best. They sing when he comes, but they don't sing for anyone else--or at least, he hasn't seen them sing for anyone else. They certainly don't sing for Gran, not even when she waters them.

He goes to look closer at them. Quietly, they hum at him, and their song sounds a little bit sadder than usual. "Gran, I think the flowers need water," he says, but Gran and Gramp are still talking about something that concerns Neville none whatsoever, so Neville sneaks downstairs. With the smallest bit of help from Betty, fills a glass with water and takes it back upstairs. It takes longer than he'd supposed, and by the time he goes back into the spare room, Gran is gone, and Gramp has fallen asleep. He hasn't taken a single bite of his sandwich. Neville stands on his tip-toes and pours the water into the pot, but the flowers' song is no happier.

Maybe it takes time, thinks Neville, and he closes the door quietly.

Early the next morning, he wakes up to the sound of a crash and shattering glass, followed by the sounds of Betty wailing. "I is a very bad elf, Ms. Augusta!" Gran hushes her, sounding much gentler than usual.

Curious, Neville slides out of bed and pads over to his bedroom door. He opens it and peers out into the hall, where he sees Betty scurrying to pick up pieces of a broken vase. Gran is standing in the doorway of the spare room, clutching the doorframe. Even from Neville's perspective, she looks pale--much like the day Neville had painted a scar on his face.

"Gran?" he whispers. She doesn't hear him, so he tries again, a little louder this time. "Gran?"

She turns her head and looks at him. The corners of her mouth are stern and sad, and her eyes even more so. He suddenly realizes that she is old--much older than anyone else he can think of. Even older than Gramp, probably, despite the fact that he has been sick for as long as Neville can remember. Everyone else has a mum who is young and lovely, who plays in the sandbox with her children and bakes biscuits. He has a gran whom he loves, but who spends most of her time worrying and looking disappointed. It strikes him, just as the realization that he has no parents had struck him, how very different he is from the other children he knows.

"Neville, go back to bed," Gran says, in a voice that is softer than he'd expected. "I'm sorry Betty and I woke you up."

"Very bad elf," Betty whispers to herself.

Neville obeys, and crawls back into his bed with his teddy bear. The itchy, confusing fear he'd felt the night he'd seen Gran cry returns, and it is a long time before he falls asleep again.

~*~

Neville has never been to a funeral before, and he finds that he doesn't like them a single bit. The church is cold, and there are a lot of people crying, and his shirt is itchy, and he would never admit it because naps are for babies, but he's sleepy. There is a man whom Neville has never seen before at the pulpit, talking about all the things his old friend Aloysius Longbottom liked to do with him when they were young. Aloysius sounds nothing like Neville's Gramp, but he's pretty sure that's who everyone is talking about.

He still isn't sure what Gran meant when she had told him that Gramp is dead but she explained that it means Neville will never see him again. Neville can't imagine not seeing Gramp every morning before breakfast on his way to the bathroom, or hearing Gramp sing along to old songs on the wireless, but it had been three days since he had done either of those things. It makes Neville feel sad. He doesn't like being sad, but there seems to be nothing he can do about it. Not even Susie's games can make him feel better, even though she'd certainly tried when she'd visited yesterday afternoon.

"My parents are dead, too," Susie had quietly admitted to him, when Neville had made it clear that all he wanted to do was lie down in the grass and look at the sky. Neville hadn't replied. He didn't know what to say. "Are your parents dead?"

Neville couldn't reply to that, either. He didn't know. All he really knows is that he misses Gramp--a lot.

The funeral is long, and it is a long time before dinner. Fortunately, there seems to be more food in the kitchen than Neville has seen in his entire life. He takes an entire plateful of green pasta and, miraculously, nobody scolds him for it. He takes it to the front steps and balances it on his lap before digging in with the hunger of a thousand Kneazles. Lots of people stop and tell him that he looks charming in his suit, or that they're sorry although he can't tell why. Finally, everyone is gone except for Gran's friend Mrs. Marchbanks, who is busy cleaning up in the kitchen. Neville has been outside a long, long time.

He stands up and goes inside. The summer night is warm, and Neville took off his jacket long ago. He walks towards the stairs so that he can go upstairs and change his shirt as well, but he catches a glimpse of Gran on a couch in the sitting room, staring into space.

Neville takes a deep breath and fills himself with courage, although what he needs it for he isn't certain, and makes his way towards Gran. Without a word, he climbs onto the couch, perches next to her--it's very uncomfortable--and reaches over to take her hand in his.

They sit there like that, not speaking, for a long while. It feels like hours although it's probably only been a few minutes.

When Gran finally breaks the silence, her voice is gentle but strong. "Your parents were very brave, Neville. Did you know that?"

He shakes his head. He doesn't know very much about his parents at all.

"There was once a very evil man named--" she coughs. "Well, he was evil, and he did many terrible things. But your parents and their friends--they were brave. They knew they could fight this man and the people who agreed with him."

Gran tells Neville the whole story of his parents, even things like how they had met and the night when he'd been born. There is a whole world of knowledge that he has never before been privy to. By the time Gran gets to the part where a woman named Bellatrix hurt his parents until they had to go to the hospital, he's falling asleep, and he doesn't hear the rest.

~*~

A week passes. Neville doesn't mention his parents or Gramp, at least not in Gran's presence. He asks Betty once if she had ever known his parents, and all she says is that "Mr. Frank was a good master" before leaving Neville alone in his room. On Tuesday afternoon while Neville is playing with Gramp's wizard chess set, Gran tells him to get ready to leave.

"Where are we going?"

Gran doesn't answer, but she does pass him a sweet--Drooble's Best Blowing Gum! Neville loves chewing gum, but Gran usually says it's bad for his teeth. He doen't question this change of heart, and unwraps the little ball with glee, poking the wrapper into his pocket. It tastes like blueberries.

"They're from Amelia--Ms. Bones," Gran tells him. "You may have this one, but don't ask for another for at least a week." Betty slides in past Gran's legs, and Gran tells her that she will be leaving in ten minutes before turning away. Neville hears the clack of her shoes against the wooden floors of the hallway as she walks towards her bedroom.

After Betty helps him tie his shoes and comb his hair, Gran pulls him into the fireplace. He hates Flooing and wishes that he wasn't so scared of flying--it would probably be much nicer than the whooshing and the dust.

They land in a place Neville has never been. "Where are we?" he asks, in a hushed voice, staring at the stark white walls and the people in long white robes bustling around.

"It's called St. Mungo's," Gran replies hastily. Without releasing her grip on Neville's hand, she marches right up to a desk, behind which sits a woman with red hair and red lipstick. She smiles at Neville and he immediately likes her.

"Hello, Mrs. Longbottom," the woman says, the warm smile not leaving her face. "How may I help you?"

"How are they doing today?"

"Wonderfully! Just saw them take their lunch half an hour ago. You can go right in and see them, they're in the sitting room."

Gran pulls Neville down a long hallway. He continues to chew his bubblegum, taking in the portraits along the walls and the people busily passing by them. Finally they go through two pairs of giant doors and through one smaller one. They're in a bright little room, and near the single window are two people--a man and a woman with wispy gray hair--sitting in blue armchairs, staring out into the street.

There's a voice behind Neville and Gran, and he turns to see a woman, wearing the same white robes as almost everyone else Neville's seen so far. "Alice? Frank?" she says loudly. "Augusta is here to see you."

"And Neville," Gran says.

The two people in the armchairs hadn't seemed to be listening, but at the sound of his name, the woman turns her head and stands very slowly. With halting steps that make it seem as if she will topple forward at any moment, she makes her way towards Gran and Neville. Gran lets go of his hand, and when he glances sideways at her, she once again looks rigid and stern where she has spent the past week looking tired.

"Gran?" he whispers, as the woman stops in front of him. "Who's that?"

Gran coughs. "That," she says, sad exhaustion still coloring her voice if not influencing her posture, "is your mother. And in the chair is your father."

"Oh," he says carefully.

The woman--his mother--reaches toward him. Instinct pushes him to take a step forward, and his mother touches his cheek. Her fingers are soft and warm. She taps his cheek three times and then holds out her hand, as if expecting something.

He doesn't understand. He looks back at Gran, who is speaking in a low voice with the woman in white robes, and then back towards his mother. She pats his pocket, taps his cheek again, and then holds out her palm even more insistently.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the bubblegum wrapper. His mother breaks out into a smile and takes it from him. She rubs it against her own cheek and then offers it back to him. When he takes it, frowning, and puts it back into her pocket, she claps.

For the second time in a week, he takes a deep breath of courage. "Hello, Mum," he says, for the first time in his life.

~*~

When he gets home, there are all kinds of things he doesn't quite understand. He is sad, because his mother looks a lot like him, but she doesn't make biscuits or play in the sandbox. He wonders if she's ever done those things at all. He is happy that he finally knows who his Mum and Dad are. He is tired. He is hungry. He misses Gramp.

After dinner, he goes to the kitchen, and with just a tiny bit of Betty's help, he fills a tall glass of water. He is careful not to spill or to make any noise as he carries it up to the spare room. The flowers on the dresser seem to be waiting for him, and they begin to hum. He pours the water into their pot and takes a step back. He waits, and waits, and waits.

Slowly but surely, the flowers begin to sing.

IT'S 2005 AGAIN

bribitribbit — Fri, 19 Nov 2010 17:01:50 GMT

AND ALL I WANT TO DO IS TALK ABOUT HARRY POTTER AND WRITE HARRY POTTER FIC AND READ HARRY POTTER BOOKS

DISCUSSION POST?

Favorite parts!
Least favorite parts!
Ron/Hermione, how great are they!
Neville Longbottom, how much more of him we need!
DOBBY

bribitribbit — Fri, 19 Nov 2010 00:45:34 GMT

FRIENDSLIST

ONE NIGHT ONLY (lies: it'll probably last for a bit)

I am in the mood to write some Harry Potter drabbles. BUT I NEED YOUR HELP. What pairings do you want to see? (Do you all even remember my favorites? For the record, they include: Hufflepuff gen, Weasley gen, Remus/Sirius, Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, ANYTHING involving Pansy, Neville/Susan, Dean/Luna, Pansy/Ginny.... BUT ~the years have changed me~ and I am open to writing pretty much anything. Except maybe Harry/Hermione. I think that in my heart I am still morally against it. SORRY.)

GUYS PLEASE GIVE ME PROMPTS, I WANT TO WRITE FIC SO MUCH

bribitribbit — Sun, 14 Nov 2010 18:00:33 GMT

Firstly, I am sorry that my letter is late! Secondly, THANK YOU for writing my fic. This is my third year doing Yuletide and every year I'm so pleased about its results, and I'm sure this year won't be any different. You are fabulous! ♥

Here are some general things I like in fic: fluff! I like smiles and hugs and heartwarming endings (although the bits before the endings don't have to be heartwarming, not at all). My favorite parts of most stories are the parts about people being friends, especially when there is stuff about friends becoming makeshift families. I am ALL OVER that. I also enjoy shipping things, but it is not always my priority, and in fact, I like it best when the couples I like are included but the story is mostly about their friendship with other people. So do not feel pressured to write my ships! THAT BEING SAID, far be it from me to forbid you from writing ships! That is cool too! Here are some things I dislike: things that don't end happily, incest or non-con/dub-con, things that absolutely not funny at all.

Fandoms!

iCarly
I love Sam/Carly and Freddie/Sam but I really dislike Freddie/Carly. I would also be okay with best friend gen fic. (See my Yuletide letter!)

I am sorry for this very threadbare optional comments section, and I hope you see my Yuletide letter in time if indeed it is iCarly you are writing for me! Basically, I think iCarly is ridiculous and hilarious and AWESOME. If you could capture all of its zany shenanigans and manage to feature lots and lots of Sam (and I mean LOTS; Sam Puckett is my FAVORITE), then I would love you forever! You are absolutely not required to write any ship with this; if you do choose to write a ship though, I would really rather not have Freddie/Carly, like I said. I mean, I watched iSaved Your Life and all the flirting made me want to go hide in a hole somewhere in Lithuania for eight years. But I'm all over Sam/Carly and their whole inseparable, I-know-you-better-than-you-know-yourself thing (my favorite moment is in the Christmas episode where Carly observes a world she was never part of and she visits Sam in juvie and Carly tells her tons of details from Sam's life that nobody else would know... ♥). Without Carly, Sam would be, well, a mess, but without Sam Carly would be downright BORING. I also love Sam/Freddie but I'm not invested in it in the same way.

Lilo & Stitch
I would LOVE to read some fic about David and Nani's relationship--not necessarily shipfic (although I wouldn't hate that either!) but even something about David being generally supportive after Nani's parents die, or something about the trip to Graceland or WHATEVER. Basically, I love David and Nani a whole lot. Lilo is also great. (See my Yuletide letter!)

I got this idea in my head that David and Nani have been friends for a really long time, and my imagination just ran with it. Just imagine David and Nani as kids! David being all obnoxious and Nani being cranky about it but whatever, because life is good and there is always surfing to be done! I DON'T KNOW! I mean, you don't have to go with that idea, but it might a good place to start from! And I mean, it's not that I don't want to see Lilo and Stitch and Jumbo and Pleakley and Cobra--I love all of them too! I just really wish there was David/Nani fic because I think they are adorable.

Degrassi: The Next Generation
These three are my absolute favorite Degrassi characters possibly ever. I would love to read fic about them just being friends. Having adventures, getting up to shenanigans, helping Eli clean his room, helping Adam win over Fiona, Eli and Clare being ridiculously adorable while Adam is sort of "oh you GUYS." :DDD (See my Yuletide letter!)

I've been watching Degrassi for years--YEARS--but I've never been a fan of a character the way I am of Clare, Eli, and Adam. I am very stubborn in my idea that Clare Edwards is the best Degrassi character of ALL TIME, and I think she and Eli are the cutest and if they break up I will have to go to the producers and punch them. Or something. I also love Adam! I was worried, when I heard they'd be having a trans person on Degrassi, that they might ruin things somehow--I am very very pleased at how they've treated Adam so far. And I get a sense of golden trio love from Eli & Clare & Adam that I haven't gotten from any other set of Degrassi friends--like, I feel like they are legitimately friends, instead of characters who can't wait to hang out with other people. Basically, I want all the friendship fic in the world for these three! ALL OF IT!

Disney Princesses
I just want more fic about the Disney princesses hanging out and being friends. And though they are not in the character list, I wouldn't be particularly adverse to seeing certain male characters included, like Shang or Naveen. :D (See my Yuletide letter!)

There was no way I could choose any particular characters for this fandom! There is not a single Disney princess I don't love for SOME reason, although my favorites are Tiana, Mulan, and Jane Porter. I would definitely love to see them featured, but you could write a fic about Cinderella and Belle and their adventures at the market and I would love it. I read this fic and I fell in love with the idea of Disney princess AUs--the opportunities! Disney princess roller derby! Disney princesses at college! Disney princesses in high school! Disney princesses at the movie theater! SO MANY OPTIONS!

I hope this has been helpful, dear Yuletide writer. I know I'm terrible at these kinds of things, but I hope you have fun, because that's the most important part. :) Don't stress over what to write me!

♥
Britt

note to self (that may also be helpful for my fellow student flisters)

bribitribbit — Wed, 20 Oct 2010 01:06:03 GMT

DO SOMETHING PRODUCTIVE

bribitribbit — Fri, 24 Sep 2010 03:14:25 GMT

1. The Handmaid's Tale--Margaret Atwood
2. Mockingjay--Suzanne Collins
3. The Midwife's Apprentice--Karen Cushman
4. True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle--AVI
5. Off Season--Catherine Murdock
6. Front and Center--Catherine Murdock
7. Wild Magic--Tamora Pierce
8. Emperor Mage--Tamora Pierce
9. Wolf-Speaker--Tamora Pierce
10. The Realms of the Gods--Tamora Pierce
11. Shadowland--Meg Cabot
12. Tangled--Carolyn Mackler
13. Fever 1793--Louise Halse Anderson
14. Criss Cross--Lynn Rae Perkins
15. Fire--Kristin Cashore
16. Going Bovine--Libba Bray
17. A Spy in the House--Y.S. Lee
18. Flygirl--Sherri L. Smith
19. Smile--Raina Telgemeier
20. The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate--Jacqueline Kelly
21. My Side of the Mountain--Jean Georgehead Speare
22. The Mostly True Adventures of Homer P. Figg--Rodman Kilbrick
23. Dairy Queen--Catherine Murdock
24. When You Reach Me--Rebecca Stead
25. Graceling--Kristin Cashore
26. The Body in the Tower--Y.S. Lee
27. The Wind in the Door--Madeleine L'Engle
28. Charles and Emma: A Leap of Faith--Deborah Heigelman
29. The Luxe--Anna Godbersen
30. An Abundance of Katherines--John Green
31. Rumors--Anna Godbersen
32. Envy--Anna Godbersen
33. Will Grayson, Will Grayson--John Green & David Levithan
34. Mercury--Hope Larson
35. Looking for Alaska--John Green
36. The Headless Cupid--Zilpha Keatley Snyder

*not counting anything related to school. Not even thesis stuff as much fun as I have reading those books.

At Last 1/5

bribitribbit — Thu, 09 Sep 2010 17:35:59 GMT

I have this HSM Big Bang fic and, well, it's definitely not going to make it into this round. But I'm still into finishing it and I've been working on it the past few days (instead of doing homework... I know). So I thought that because I actually have a pretty solid plan for where the fic is going--which is so rare! I never know where my fics are going!--and because I really wish there would be a reawakening in HSM fandom that I might go ahead and start posting? I haven't posted a multi-chapter fic in YEARS, guys. We'll see how this goes. Hopefully well! :D?

Title: At Last (1/5)
Fandom: High School Musical
Pairing: Ryan/Chad, Zeke/Sharpay
Rating: PG (this chapter)
Summary:In which Ryan gets a clue, Chad gets a boyfriend, Sharpay gets a job, and Zeke gets back the love of his life. A tale of Facebook stalking, macadamia nut cookies, Etta James, and springtime in New York City.
Notes: Thank you, Etta James, for one of the best love songs ever. And thanks to herberta2006 who doesn't know how much she contributed to this fic. <3

Chad loved college, in case anyone wanted to know. In emails to Troy, in all of his Facebook statuses, in the brief, occasional phone calls to his parents, it was always the same: his classes were great, his new friends were great, the basketball team was great, his roommate was great. The food was not so great but that was only minor, right?

This apparent unbridled adoration for all things University of Albuquerque which he projected to everybody who had known him in high school was, in reality, slightly less than anything approaching adoration. Which was not to say that he didn't fully enjoy many aspects of his new life as a college man--his classes and roommate really were great.

As to his friends, he had many acquaintances and generally saw the same group of people all the time, but even by November, he didn't quite feel as if he could call them friends. The only people he felt that he had made a legitimate connection with were his aforementioned roommate, Jordan, and--of all people--Sharpay Evans. Not that Sharpay would have let anyone else know it, but they definitely went out for coffee every couple of weeks, and Chad actually sort of liked her--when she wasn't busy trying too hard. Jason still hung around home, so that was cool too, having him around. In any case, having been friends with Troy since they were toddlers and having known most of the Wildcats since at least sixth grade if not before, Chad had forgotten how to make friends without someone initiating contact for him.

And the team? Well, that was a joke. He might have been good for East High, but college ball was a different matter altogether. He was on the team, but in his opinion, he may as well not have been. To add insult to injury, he was privately of the opinion that most of his teammates were jerks. Sure, not all of them, but for the most part, he wasn't interested in getting to know them on a deeper level. To tell the truth, the whole college experience was lacking... he wasn't sure what, exactly, but there was definitely something missing.

"You need to go to more parties. Party until your liver shits out," said Jordan when Chad voiced his opinion. They were sitting on Chad's bed, eating leftover Chinese food. "This, I am told, is the college way."

Chad couldn't be sure if Jordan was joking or not. Jordan, Chad had learned all too quickly, had a way of making most of his remarks seem like sarcastic riddles. He threw a sidelong glance at Jordan to assess the seriousness of the comment.

If Chad had to sum up Jordan's appearance, it would be that he was harmlessly attractive in a nerdy kind of way. He had unremarkable brownish hair and unremarkable brown eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses that often clattered to the floor in the middle of the night when Jordan brushed them off his nightstand. His smile was not particularly charming. He was extraordinarily tall. There were definitely things Jordan had going for him, though: his dimples, for one. His sense of humor and his laugh. His intelligence, which Chad thought made him too smart for U of A. His incredibly large hands. His extensive collection of baseball cards.

The last thing had been the only reason he'd given Sharpay when she'd demanded to know more details, once he'd actually told her about... the thing Jordan and Chad had going on.

Chad didn't know why he'd told Sharpay about the Agreement. Telling her made it all the more concrete, which was bad considering how he expected it to blow up at any time. The Agreement in question had begun in mid-October, and was a direct result of both Chad's and Jordan's inabilities to act like normal human beings around each other, considering how attractive each had thought the other since, oh, about move-in day. Finally, one night after about a month and a half of awkwardness, denial (on Chad's side, at least), and unvoiced terror that Jordan might hear something incriminating while Chad was asleep (Chad was very prone to talking in his sleep, and equally prone to vivid dreams), they found themselves inebriated far beyond the legal limit after having played a drinking game while watching Snakes on a Plane. And then--Chad had never been able to explain just how it happened--they were suddenly all over each other, kissing and touching like Chad had never experienced before. Not with Taylor, who wouldn't have minded and probably even wanted Chad to make that move long before he realized why he didn't want to, and not with Ryan, with whom he'd only shared a single make-out session one summer, never to be spoken of again. There had never been anyone else.

The problem with the Agreement is that, well, Chad and Jordan were roommates. Not to mention, Chad was more than a little terrified of the whole coming out thing. Jordan was out and proud, and though they hadn't discussed it yet, Chad knew from all his experience (well, from his experience with Ryan) that they probably would--and that it would be an issue. Jordan was happy to believe that it would be cherries and lollipops forever, or at least for quite a while, but Chad knew that things could not stay in this weird honeymoon phase for too much longer. And Chad was worried that once everything inevitably blew up in his face, he would have lost not only a convenient Agreement but also one of his only friends at U of A.

For now, though, things were all right, as Jordan laughed at him and reached over to make Chad's hair even more of a total mess. "It's fine," he assured Chad. "Or at least it will be. I think this is part of the normal introduction-to-college process. I feel it too, sort of."

That made Chad feel a little better, though not much. He shoveled in his last bite of honey walnut chicken, and, still chewing, he threw away the container and sat down in front of his computer. "There's an email from the dean," he said through the food in his mouth.

"Talking with food in your mouth. Didn't your mother teach you manners?" teased Jordan. "What does the email say?"

Chad didn't reply immediately--he was too confused by what he was reading.

To the students of the University of Albuquerque:

As you know, the Committee for Continued Operation has been working to find more viable and varied options for the further successful operation of this institution. Their efforts have been valiant and exceedingly helpful, yet ultimately the Committee has been able to formulate a plan that would allow us to continue as we always have. As the issue currently stands, it is my regret to inform you that the University of Albuquerque will be closing its gates forever before the commencement of the second semester.

The rest of the email was long and encouraged Chad to talk to this person and fill out that form, etcetera, etcetera. Jordan had come to read over his shoulder, but now he sat heavily on his own desk chair. "Well," he said. Chad didn't expect him to continue.

"That's pretty much--yeah."

"They did say at the beginning of the year that this might happen."

"I remember. Still, it's not something you think will actually happen. And it's not like they tell you everything that's going on. I had no idea that a Committee for the--what was it?" Chad glanced back at this computer screen. "Committee for Continued Operation. I didn't know that existed. Who's even on that?"

"People you also didn't know existed, I'd imagine," Jordan replied wryly.

There was a long pause. Chad stared at the ceiling, going through all his options. Finally, he said, "So, I guess this means we're transferring, huh?"

"If anywhere else will even accept me." Jordan sighed and slumped against the wall behind Chad's bed. "This sucks."

"What do you mean, if anywhere else will even accept you? You're, like, totally smart, dude."

"Yeah, but my grades were always shit. Ughhh." Jordan moved from Chad's bed and into his own. He immediately fell asleep, as he tended to do when he was upset.

"Oh." Chad hadn't known about Jordan's high school GPA. It wasn't the sort of thing he'd ever thought to ask. He took a deep breath and swiveled back around in his chair to face his computer again. He changed his Facebook status to Chad Danforth just found out that UofA is closing after semester. I guess I'm looking at schools??

The first comment appeared in little over a minute. It was from Ryan, whom Chad hadn't personally heard from since the beginning of October, though of course Gabi kept him updated through Troy. Plus, there was always Facebook. Thanks to that handy stalking tool, Chad knew that Ryan had already gone through one boyfriend, with which things had been complicated for about two weeks until Ryan changed his status back to single, where it stayed ever since; that Ryan had gotten a part-time job at a video rental store, of all places; that Ryan had tons of people constantly asking him to come out with them; that Kelsi and Ryan were even more inseparable in New York than Sharpay had ever let them be in Albuquerque, and usually their profile pictures included one another; and that Ryan didn't plan to come home for Thanksgiving. That was a new piece of information: Ryan had updated his status about two minutes before Chad had.

Chad would have been the first to admit that his frequent perusal into Ryan's life was just a little bit creepy.

Ryan's comment read: whoa that is big news!!! are you transferring somewhere else??????

Chad was typing his response when he received about five more comments along the same lines, mostly from people who didn't go to school with him, although one from one of the guys on the team wanted to know whether anyone no any other schools looking for ok bball players with not ok grades?

Rolling his eyes, Chad opened another tab to Google "digital arts major." He realized, upon getting upwards of eleven million hits, that that was not specific enough. First he'd have to figure out where he wanted to go, location-wise. California with Troy and Gabi? He thought about it for all of five minutes before it became clear that should he go to California, he would end up being an eternal third wheel, and he doubted whether it would be any easier to make non-Troy friends in California than it had been at U of A.

He made a noise of frustration. Jordan mumbled in his sleep. Chad glanced at him quickly to make sure he hadn't woken him up, and then closed his laptop. Carefully, he packed it into his laptop case, grabbed his keys and jacket, and headed towards the campus coffee shop, where he was supposed to meet Sharpay in an hour anyway.

~*~

Meanwhile, across the country, Ryan was calling his sister as he walked out of his dorm towards the nearby bakery. He hated watching his diet as closely as he needed to, but he had been more or less successful at it for at least the past three or four months. As long as he managed to sneak in the occasional macadamia nut cookie.

"I just heard about U of A closing down," he said as soon as he heard Sharpay's breathing on the line.

"What?" was Sharpay's shrieky reply. "What do you mean?"

"I guess that means you didn't know?" Ryan grinned into the cold breeze. "Jesus, it's cold here."

"It's November in New York. Of course it's cold. I don't understand how you know something I don't about my school." She sounded deeply annoyed.

"Early November. Practically still October. Well, if it helps, I think it's, like, really new news."

"Shutting down. God. Like, forever?"

"I assume so. Chad's status made it seem like he was looking for somewhere to transfer to."

Sharpay made an annoyed noise. "Don't tell me you're still stalking Prince Charming's Facebook like it's your job."

"Well, I have an actual job and class and homework and things to do these days," replied Ryan, "so I've been able to cut down my stalking to only fifty percent of the time, instead of eighty. Besides, I thought you guys were friends now."

His sister scoffed at the very idea. "Not friends, Ryan. Never friends. We are slightly friendly acquaintances."

"Whatever you want to call it, Shar. I know you, like, meet up for coffee. Regularly."

"I could go back to detesting him, if that's what you want?"

"Did I say that?" Besides, Ryan could say some things about Sharpay's own Facebook stalking habits, and how they involved a certain would-be culinary expert named Zeke Baylor. Of course, she would never admit to such an activity so low beneath her. As a matter of fact, Zeke was in pastry school somewhere in New York but Ryan wanted Sharpay to admit that she still had feelings for Zeke before he would go out of his way to see him again. Maybe it made him a bad person, but it was a lot of fun teasing Sharpay--when she wasn't stressed over the prospect of having to transfer schools.

At least, he thought she was stressed. "What are you going to do now?" asked Ryan. The bakery was only a block away now. "Like, school-wise."

"I don't know," said Sharpay, rather lackadaisically. "I am actually thinking of just taking the next semester off. Traveling, fabulous adventures, you know."

Ryan considered this. To be honest, it sounded much more Sharpay's style than going to school, anyway. "Oh yeah? Where are you traveling to?"

"Well, it'll start when Mom takes us to Greece this Christmas. Then I figure I'll hang around Europe for another couple of months, go to Australia, take a cruise to the Caribbean--and then I'll come see you in New York." She paused, and Ryan somehow knew that whatever she was about to say next was big. "I'm actually thinking I might come to live in New York with you. Well, not with you--unless you wanted that--"

Ryan sighed, suddenly losing all interest in talking to his sister. "Shar? Can we talk about this later? I mean, not that I don't want to talk about it, but it's kind of a lot for right now."

Sharpay sounded disappointed when she replied, "Yeah. I'll go... look up hotels in Italy or something. Talk to you soon?"

"Soon. Bye." He put his phone in his pocket, shaking his head, and walked the ten extra steps to the door of his favorite place in New York: Little Slice of Heaven Bakery. Despite its kitschy name and theme, it served the most delicious cookies, cake, and pie known to man--or at least known to Ryan Evans. He stood in front of the counter, looking up at the menu even though he had it memorized, just enjoying the warmth for a few moments before ordering.

Then he heard a cheerful, familiar voice ask: "Ryan Evans? Is that you?" Ryan looked towards the door which separated the kitchen from the front counter, and there was Zeke Baylor, his apron covered in flour, wearing a chef's hat.

"I--came for some macadamia nut cookies," replied Ryan. He wasn't sure what else to say. He knew that Zeke was in pastry school somewhere in the city, but the city was... well, it was New York. It was huge. Ryan never expected Zeke to be so close.

"Awesome! I was actually just pulling a batch of those from the oven, so yours will be nice and fresh. If you wait ten minutes, I'll be on my break. I want to catch up with you!"

Ryan nodded, thinking how glad he was that he'd already ended his phone call with his sister. He sat down at one of the tall tables and fiddled with his phone, texting Kelsi to say big news! just saw a ghost from east high and playing Tetris, until Zeke came over with a small plate of cookies.

"They're on the house. Taste them; they're fresh." Zeke smiled, as charmingly eager and honest as ever.

Ryan tasted them. They were amazing. "Thank you," he said between bites. "These are the most wonderful cookies I've had in forever."

Zeke looked both pleased and embarrassed by the compliment. His smile grew wider, and he took a cookie of his own. "So, how has Juilliard been to you?"

"No way, dude, first I want to know about you! Like what you're doing here of all places."

"Well, by July of last summer I still had no clue what I wanted to do--and then my mom reminded me that we have a lot of family up here, and that there are great pastry schools back east anyway. It just sounded like a good experience all around, so now I'm going to school here and I'm living with my aunts and grandfather. This bakery actually belongs to my Aunt Sarah, so she lets me work here for experience. Like an unpaid internship deal, except she's already providing room and board. Just started last week and it's going really well, actually. I love it here, and I'm thinking of opening my own cupcake shop after I finish pastry school, or I could even keep working here. Aunt Sarah has a lot of room to work with."

"A cupcake shop? Are those a thing?"

"Yeah, man! They're, like, all the rage--and anyway, you can do so much with a cupcake that you can't always do with a normal cake. Besides, cupcakes have so much charm, and at least I'll never be out of business as long as kids are celebrating their birthdays in classrooms..." He trailed off, a sheepish expression on his face. "Sorry. I know I like to go on and on about food, but I still haven't heard how you're doing."

Ryan forgot how much he liked Zeke. He was just so exceedingly pleasant nearly all the time, and he got the feeling that Zeke always appreciated him beyond the fact that he was Sharpay's brother. He told Zeke a few of the highlights from the past few months, and they continued talking for at least another fifteen minutes before another customer came in. Zeke jumped up although another girl was at the cash register taking the newcomer's order.

"I totally forgot that my break was supposed to end, like, five minutes ago! Sorry to go so quickly, man." Zeke took the now empty plate from the table and wiped his hands on his apron.

"No, it's fine! We'll catch up later?"

"Definitely. Maybe I could meet you for cookies tomorrow?"

Ryan grinned. "How about you make them chocolate chip next time?"

~*~

"Darling, it does sound like a lovely idea, but I just think it would be a little--extravagant. Besides I'm not the comfortable with the idea of you staying so long in other countries without at least your brother. Even if you had Henry by your side." Henry was a family friend who sometimes worked as a bodyguard.

It might have looked like Sharpay was daintily sipping her mango lassi, but what she was really doing was counting to ten before she got really annoyed at her mother. She put down her drink. "Mother," she began patiently. "I really think that this is what I should be doing with my semester. It would give me so much My horoscope--"

Her mom rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "I don't think the moon and the stars have the same sense as your parents, pumpkin."

Sharpay appealed to her father. "Daddy, please think about it some more before you say no!"

He coughed, a sign that Sharpay knew meant he was uncomfortable, or that he wished to defy his wife's opinion. Sharpay felt a glimmer of hope rise within her for a whole split second before it was cruelly crushed. "I'm sorry, muffin, but this is what your mother and I have decided." He said this without even looking up from the ledger in which he was working.

Sharpay let out a growl of frustration, all pretense of patience lost. "Then what am I supposed to do next year?"

Now her father looked up to exchange a glance with his wife. Her mother put her glass back on the coffee table. "Well, you did say you were thinking of going to New York. I don't think that's such a bad plan, sweetheart. If you can find a job, your father and I will gladly pay the rent on your apartment, as long as you agree to live close to Juilliard. It would be nice to be with your brother again, wouldn't it?"

Suddenly, her irritation with her parents dissipated as Sharpay considered this option. Many people thought she didn't care about anyone but herself, but the truth was, she missed Ryan terribly, especially since she was still at home and had to pass by his empty bedroom every day. It just wasn't the same when the sounds of campy showtunes weren't emitting from underneath his door, and when she never had to worry about her shampoo being stolen. She had a feeling that part of the reason Ryan had gone so far away was partly because of her, but if she could manage to make her own way in the city, she wouldn't be there for him, necessarily, but she'd see him all the time--and anyways, she knew Zeke was there, somewhere, and she missed him too.

"A job?" she repeated, that detail just now occurring to her.

Her mother nodded. "It'll be good for you, pumpkin. In any case, it would be a good way to meet people."

"Okay."

Her father dropped his pen, and her mother nearly spilled her drink. The latter's eyebrows went up so high and quickly it was almost as if they'd flown off her forehead. "Okay?" said Sharpay's father.

"Okay," Sharpay said again, more resolutely this time. "I'll do it. As long as you can find a place that won't mind Boi."

"Well, that's it, then, isn't it?" Her father was clearly pleased. He went to take a sip of his coffee, which Sharpay knew was already cold. It always was.

"I'm going to go call Ry," she announced, unable to keep giddy excitement from creeping into her voice.

(I'm sure you are all "lol Britt is SO OVERINVESTED" right now.)

bribitribbit — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 20:09:39 GMT

I just finished Mockingjay.

Because I did, and that in itself is pretty big for me, because unless something really and truly upsets me, or there is some trope that I just don't like, I'm pretty good at finding SOMETHING in a book(/movie/tv show) that I can love. And Mockingjay DID have those things! It's just that the things I loved didn't get to survive and--okay, so meredyd said something along the lines of how it's really hard when you build up a trust of a narrative and then that trust comes crashing down. (I'M LOOKING AT YOU, THE OFFICE)

I just feel like... okay, my personal joy in reading, or really, life, is seeing the innate goodness that I believe exists in all people, or at least the fact that there is no such thing as absolute evil or absolute good. I also believe in the innate ability to take things as they come and then rehabilitate. And that does happen in Mockingjay, but not until the very end, and only after pages and pages and pages of complete and utter bleakness. Both Hunger Games and Catching Fire had hope in them, at least to an extent where my heart wasn't breaking at every turn. I don't think Mockingjay had that quality! It just... didn't. It might have been that Katniss was in cold, seemingly heartless District 13 for most of the book, or it might have been Peeta--yeah, I don't even want to think about Peeta, because I have been invested in him from the start and every moment Peeta appeared in this book just hurt--anyway, it might have been the absence of the Peeta readers have come to love, but so much of Mockingjay was so frankly, I don't know, I'm just going to keep using the word bleak. There's always brokenness in stories like this, but so often it's brokenness cradled and held together with warmth or passion or something that will keep the characters fighting.

What kept Katniss fighting? What kept any of them fighting? As far as I could tell the only explanation was anger and revenge for previous violence--and it was all fought with those selfsame things. That moment where they decide to have a final Hunger Games? I am going to admit, I couldn't believe that out of the victors there was absolutely no one besides Peeta and Annie (who were, along with Finnick, the characters who showed the most good, at least in my opinion) who agreed not to go along with the final Hunger Games decision. I understand anger and I understand hatred, and I understand the pain that the victors had already gone through, but I guess I'm not sure I understand desperate bloodthirsty revenge, and that's what this book was made of.

As for the deaths of Finnick and Prim--okay, Prim's death, I can see having been necessary to Katniss's decision to kill Coin and her reason for such utter anger at the murder of all those children (at which point I admit I threw the book because I was so angry; at whom I'm not sure)--but Finnick's? There had already been so much unnecessary murder in the books, but at least they majorly comprised nameless faces that readers had no investment in. Finnick and Annie were the only character I was 100% sure would have the happy ending that I was craving from the first page, but that couldn't happen... and why not? I guess it was part of the whole "war isn't fair" theme but, I don't know. I even kind of feel like readers deserved to see Finnick and Annie stay together--which is a lol MOST entitled opinion, I know, but seriously, it was a fucking difficult book to read, and I'm twenty years old! I don't even know how I would have coped with the ending were I my obsessively fannish fourteen-year-old self, considering my overinvestment now.

I can't even work up happiness for Katniss and Peeta--I adore Peeta SO MUCH, I don't know if you heard, and I have been rooting for him all three books. I can't say I even really thought that Gale had a chance--it was pretty obvious, what from the more or less non-entity he is in the first two books. I knew that Katniss would have to choose eventually, but I wish it had been a choice of more... passion? And not a choice that merely said "well, the other guy helped blow up my sister, so." Not that the passion was completely absent, it's just that I didn't necessarily buy it. Not even on Peeta's side, not by the end of the book, what with all that had happened. Sometimes I love a relationship where all they have going for them is shared experience, and especially painful shared experience, but I just didn't buy into that working for Katniss and Peeta. I don't know.

Man, I don't even know why I'm so worked up about this. Maybe it's because I feel that Suzanne Collins is hoping to make this big statement with the utter bleakness that is Mockingjay, but the humanity and the passion that go along with such a statement are completely missing. I've read quite a few bleak, depressing, statement-making books, and I have even enjoyed some, but few have made me quite this angry. It's so soon after reading that I'm not sure WHY I'm so angry, but I am! Hopefully I'll figure out why.

ALSO this is not to say there are not moments I really loved, or even that the book wasn't worth my time or something. Both of those things are true! I JUST DON'T KNOW, guys. I guess I wasn't expecting the brutality just hitting me on the head over and over again. Obviously, I know from the very premise itself that brutality is something to be expected, but... not this much?

bribitribbit — Mon, 16 Aug 2010 22:02:09 GMT

the ❝that's my favorite!❞ meme
A FANFICTION PRAISE MEME

I am feeling pretty embarrassed to be doing this BUT WHATEVER sometimes it is time to be shameless.

Also, guys, it is time for me to have a new fandom. Well, my new fandom WOULD be iCarly, but it is a much scarier place than my teenie fandom of choice (HSM) and there is not enough Sam/Carly to keep me there. I just don't know what I want from fandom anymore. I just don't like the getting into a fandom process, where all you can find is terrible fic and you don't have anyone to talk about your new obsession with :(

While I am super super excited to be going back to Bryn Mawr I am also feeling the anxiety set in. holy shit guys i'm going to be a senior A SENIOR IN COLLEGE

now, to shower for the first time in days!

bribitribbit — Fri, 14 May 2010 15:15:43 GMT

I have finished all of my schoolwork for junior year! So now symbolically and, you know, actually, I am a senior in college jfc what when did that happen.

I still have to pack and reply to that bewildering yet awesome thesis email... and do a whole bunch of stuff for garden party... and clean... and PACK oh god. BUT I'M DONE DONE DONE.

Bee tee dubs, if I'm not around very much from now until about August (not that I've been around very much lately anyway... sorry), it's because I have more or less no internet at home (I mean, I have some, but I probably won't use it that often); when I'm home, my mom has some Ideas about things to do and weekend trips; in June, I'm going to camp, and not only is there nothing but dial-up there, Hannah and I have vowed to actually do things on the weekends this summer. I'll be back for good in September. :)

<3333333333333

bribitribbit — Wed, 05 May 2010 16:13:26 GMT

I made a summer playlist! It is supposed to be chill except I don't know how well I kept to that. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, FRIENDS.

dancin' in the moonlight.zip, mediafire folder

1. Theme Song--Arthur
2. Mr. Sandman (Bring Me a Dream)--The Chordettes
3. Don't Worry Baby--The Beach Boys
4. Cecilia--Simon & Garfunkel
5. Working in a Coal Mine--Lee Dorsey
6. Love--Robin Hood
7. Stuck on You--Elvis Presley
8. Gonna Get Along Without You Now--She & Him
9. A Lot of Livin' To Do--Bye Bye Birdie
10. Do-Wah-Doo--Kate Nash
11. Crying Blood--VV Brown
12. Ageless Beauty--The Most Serene Republic
13. The Lion Sleeps Tonight--The Tokens
14. For What It's Worth--Buffalo Springfield
15. Movin' Right Along--The Muppet Movie
16. King of New York--Newsies
17. San Francisco--Scott Mackenzie
18. If I Fell--The Beatles
19. Dream a Little Dream of Me--Mama Cass Elliot
20. Hound Dog--Big Mama Thornton
21. Dancin' in the Moonlight--Toploader
22. Crimson and Clover--Joan Jett
23. The Joker--Steve Miller Band
24. Tightrope (Feat. Big Boi)--Janelle Monae
25. Bicycle Race--Queen
26. Let's Go to the Mall--Robin Sparkles
27. The Hustle--Van McCoy

Here is last summer's mix, which I still think is pretty great.

*picture credit of sorts

bribitribbit — Thu, 18 Mar 2010 14:20:38 GMT

the sunshine playlist! (.zip)

1. Oo-de-lally--Robin Hood
2. Maybelline--Chuck Berry
3. Romeo and Juliet--Reefer Madness
4. Make Your Own Kind of Music--Mama Cass Elliot
5. Why Should I Worry--Billy Joel
6. Groovin' (On a Sunday Afternoon)--The Young Rascals
7. Puff the Magic Dragon--Peter, Paul, and Mary
8. Fun, Fun, Fun--The Beach Boys
9. Walking on Sunshine--Katrina and the Waves
10. Perfect in My Mind--Gold Motel
11. Do You Believe in Magic?--The Lovin' Spoonful
12. He Mele No Lilo--Lilo & Stitch
13. Love Potion No. 9--The Clovers
14. The Rain Rain Rain Came Down Down Down--Winnie & the Pooh
15. She's Got You High--Mumm-Ra
16. Myriad Harbour--The New Pornographers
17. A Cockeyed Optimist--South Pacific
18. Kiss Me--Natalie Imbruglia
19. It Might as Well be Spring--State Fair
20. I'm a Believer--The Monkees
21. Baby Elephant Walk--Henry Mancini
22. Rainbow Connection--Kermit the Frog
23. What I've Been Looking For--High School Musical
24. Lollipop--The Chordettes
25. Mushaboom--Feist
26. Jolly Holiday--Mary Poppins
27. We Intertwined--The Hush Sound
28. Little April Showers--Bambi
29. California Girls--The Beach Boys
30. If You Wanna Be Happy--Jimmy Soul
31. You're the Devil in Disguise--Elvis Presley

A happy springy mix of Disney, oldies, musicals, and indie rock.

Happy Spring!

I just got my Princess and the Frog DVD. :DDDD

bribitribbit — Wed, 17 Mar 2010 13:42:02 GMT

A VOTE FOR SOKKA IS A VOTE FOR ADORABLE SMALL ANIMALS

bribitribbit — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 20:28:56 GMT

SO I DON'T KNOW IF YOU GUYS HAVE VOTED YET IN coc_m_madness BUT THE FIRST 16 ARE UP! GO VOTE FOR YOUR FAVORITE CHARACTERS OF COLOR! :DDDD The animation category pleases me so much but the comedy less so because basically all I watch are comedies and HOW DO I CHOOSE BETWEEN CHAD DANFORTH AND MANNY DELGADO???

Anyway, go vote!! :DDD I can't tell you what team to vote for because for many of them I can't choose myself! TIANA, SOKKA, MULAN, JASMINE, AND RUSSELL ALL IN THE SAME CATEGORY OH NOOOOO