ellie06

YES!YES!YES! WE WON!

2008-11-05T12:45:24Z

I am so happy and excited that Barack Obama is our new president of the United States! What an astounding moment in history and I'm so proud to be a part of this. As a child of immigrant parents and a woman of Asian descent, this represents, to me, how high we can truly reach and achieve if we dare to dream. I've always been proud to be an American, but this moment reminds us all, including myself, why I am proud to be an American. It truly is the land of dreams, hope and opportunity.

Congratulations President Obama! AND THANK YOU AMERICA!!! YOU ROCK! :D

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANGIE!

2008-09-21T16:38:40Z

I hope everyone joins me in wishing xtremeroswellia a happy and healthy birthday today. I hope you have a wonderful day full of all the things that make you happy. I can't think of anyone who deserves it more. I love ya babe!

SV Fic: Always

2008-09-20T13:59:13Z

My goodness it's been awhile. And unbelievably, I have fic! Trust me when I say no one is more surprised than me, lol. It seems with all the spoilers, somehow Chloom snuck its way into my affections. Again, call me flabbergasted. But, there is some Chlark too. That damn Chlarker in me can't ever quite let go :p.

Title: Always

Disclaimer: I own nothing, nada, niente!

Fandom: Smallville

Pairing: Chloom, Chlark

Spoilers: Season 8 spoilers

Rating: PG

Summary: Sequel to h2osprincess’ Starry Night

A/N: I’ve been sucked into the Chloom. It’s all h2osprincess’ fault :p. Seriously though, I would like to give her much credit and thanks for this story. Thank you for so generously lending me your universe. It’s been a privilege. And if you haven’t read her Starry Night, close this page and go read now. It is fantastic as is everything she writes.

“You knew.”

“I didn’t.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

He towers behind her, his anger crackling the air and she wants to laugh for all the affect his rage has on her. As if Clark Kent has any right to his righteous indignation.

She brushes a stray hair away from Ollie’s face, careful to avoid the bandages. Like the others, he hasn’t awoken since his fight with Davi-

No.

Doomsday.

If she is going to do this, she needs to remember who she is dealing with now.

She turns away to collect her things only to be blocked in. It seems she has more than one confrontation to face tonight.

“I didn’t know. I wish I did. And please, before you continue, take a moment to examine the rampant hypocrisy in that statement.”

Her aim is true and she sees some of the anger drain away. But he doesn’t move, only continues to stare down at her, silently demanding an explanation he has no rights to.

“What do you want from me Clark? Some sort of magic explanation that will make everything better? Make it right?”

“I want you to tell me the truth!”

His face colors, reflecting an array of emotions he can hardly explain. But she still knows him better than himself. And she understands the real question beneath his ridiculous outrage.

If it wasn’t so tragic, she’d laugh at the irony. They haven’t spoken in months, each for their own reasons. For her, it is because she finally understood the difference between worth the wait and waiting to be worthwhile.

So now…now, they’re surrounded by their friends, battered and broken, hooked up to life support machines and it has finally comes down to this.

“Ask me what you really want to know, Clark.”

He is silent and the silence stretches, defining the space between them.

“Do I love him?”

Her answer is swift. And sharp.

“Yes. Still. Always.”

His face crumples and it’s humbling for her know that she ever had this much power over him. But there is no satisfaction in this. She has been a casualty of her own heart for far too long to relish his grief.

Gently, she brushes by him and he allows her to pass. He never really had a choice.

As she leaves the room, she pauses to answer the only question he should have asked.

“What will you do?”

Her answer is swift. And sharp.

“What you never could.”

************************************************************************

Between her resources at Isis and as Watchtower, finding Doomsday would have been a relatively easy endeavor. He wasn’t exactly subtle when making his presence known. But for the first time in her life, she doesn’t need any of her usual tricks to find what she’s after. She already knows where he will be.

Sometimes, it all comes back to the beginning.

The empty road stretches away from her and she hears before she sees him. It’s the sounds of metal grinding and tearing. The sounds of footfalls so violent, her car shakes even from miles away. The sounds of screaming.

She maneuvers the car as far it can go through the debris, stopping only when the shattered glass on the pavement punctures a tire.

Stepping out, she carefully picks her path towards him. Having had his fill of destruction, she has caught him in a rare moment of stillness. His back faces her, his shoulders heaving. She wonders if he is contemplating the devastation he has wrought, the lives he has destroyed. She wonders if he is even capable of thought anymore.

She hasn’t been back here since that day with the little boy and his mother. There was a death that day. Hers. But it was also the start of something so beautiful it forever marks this spot as a place of solace and hope. It should be disconcerting, even disturbing, this connection, but she never was the conventional sort. Beauty and tragedy have shaped her soul in equal parts, it’s no wonder they’ve long intertwined.

Sensing her presence behind him, a growl erupts and he whirls to face her. He is savagery personified, monstrous hate contained only by naked flesh and twisted bones that spike towards the sky in defiance.

She should be afraid, terrified really. But somehow the mindlessness of the monster calms her and strengthens her resolve. There is nothing of the man she loves in this…thing. Now, there is only Doomsday.

And only she has the power to kill the only man who ever loved her. Loved her with such grace and careless abandon. The only man who ever loved her first.

She braces herself against the concrete, holds out her hands in defense as he charges towards her with rage. All she can hope is to bear the impact long enough to use her power.

But in typical fashion, he surprises her. His roaring onslaught halts suddenly, only a few inches from her and he stares with confused wonder at her outreached hand. She follows his gaze to the glittering diamond on her finger. For a moment, probably the last they will ever share, they are caught together. Something stirs. A memory of their first time.

Standing in the kitchen, she washes the dishes angrily, trying to distract herself from his silence as he watches from a corner. Waiting.

They had argued. About what, she can’t recall. All she can remember is what happens next. How he approaches her from behind, cradling her body with his and silently absorbing her trembling until her anger washes away like so much running water.

The air in the room is still, almost expectant. A long moment passes before he speaks.

“I’m sorry.”

He breathes heavily into her hair, so she almost misses his whisper.

“I love you.”

It is his first and she presses against him.

“Do you love me?”

She responds and it is effortless.

“Yes.”

He smiles into her cheek.

“Still?”

“Always.”

She reaches out and takes his hand. Their eyes meet and there is a despair in his that will haunt whatever of her life will come hereafter. So she will give him the only peace her gift will allow.

Do you love me?

Yes. Still.

“Always.”

The light is blinding. And for once, she feels no pain.

Meme thieved from kdsch123

2008-06-25T02:22:24Z

*waves to flist* Thanks for the nudge monicao! I know I need to update this thing more often but somehow RL always seems to get the better of me, lol. Oh well, here's another meme just for fun!

1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.
2) Italicize those you intend to read.
3) Underline the books you LOVE.
4) Reprint this list in your own LJ so we can try and track down these people who've read 6 and force books upon them.

1. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
2. The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3. Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4. Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
5. To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6. The Bible
7. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8. Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
9. His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11. Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12. Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13. Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14. Complete Works of Shakespeare
15. Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16. The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17. Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18. Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19. The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20. Middlemarch - George Eliot
21. Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22. The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23. Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25. The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26. Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27. Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28. Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29. Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30. The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32. David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33. Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34. Emma - Jane Austen
35. Persuasion - Jane Austen
36. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis
37. The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38. Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39. Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40.Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41. Animal Farm - George Orwell
42. The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44. A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45. The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46. Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47. Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48. The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
49. Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50. Atonement - Ian McEwan
51. Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52. Dune - Frank Herbert
53. Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54. Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55. A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56. The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57. A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60. Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61. Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63. The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64. The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65. Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66. On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68. Bridget Jones' Diary - Helen Fielding
69. Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie
70. Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71. Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72. Dracula - Bram Stoker
73. The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74. Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75. Ulysses - James Joyce
76. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77. Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78. Germinal - Emile Zola
79. Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80. Possession - AS Byatt
81. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82. Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83. The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84. The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85. Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86. A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87. Charlotte's Web - EB White
88. The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90. The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91. Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92. The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93. The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94. Watership Down - Richard Adams
95. A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96. A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97. The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98. Hamlet - William Shakespeare
99. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100. Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

Once for the Oscar!!

2008-02-26T00:34:27Z

This movie is soooo wonderful and that song just owns my soul. I'm so glad it won the Oscar and it couldn't have happened to better people I think. Very sweet, humble and true artists. And I'm so glad they let Marketa Irglova come back out to have her moment. She was the picture of class and poise. This award was very deserved and in the words of Glen Hansard - Make Art!

Hi, I'm a Marvel! And I'm a DC! Hee!

2008-02-23T01:14:50Z

I love this guy and his Marvel/DC parodies. They're all great, but I think this particular one is a gem LOL!

Tagged! I'm It! :p

2008-02-07T01:28:56Z

Seven Things Meme
a. list seven habits/quirks/facts about yourself
b. tag seven people to do the same
c. do not tag the person who tagged you or say that you tag "whoever wants to do it"

1. I have never been to a zoo. And it's not for the lack of trying either. Whenever the opportunity has arisen, both as a child or adult, something has always interfered i.e. illness, lack of time or opportunity, etc. One of these days I'd like to go, but at the rate I'm going, I'm beginning to have my doubts, lol.

2. I have absolutely no problem engaging in so called "social" activities alone. Like going to the movies by myself or having dinner in a crowded restaurant alone. My friends always say it's the strangest thing, something they would never do. And maybe it's because I'm an only child, but I've always been very comfortable in my own company.

3. Even though I'm a girl, unless it's a special occasion, I never carry a purse with me. When I lived in LA and worked at a homeless shelter, I was advised to break myself of that habit to avoid being robbed and ever since then, I've never carried a purse. I still find it sort of freeing, lol.

4. Lately, I've been quite engrossed with children's literature. When I was growing up, I was never exposed to a lot of the classics like Chronicles of Narnia, Anne of Green Gables, Dr. Seuss, etc. So to rectify that, I've been reading a lot of so called "kids" books and it feels like I'm reliving my childhood all over again :D!

5. I hate driving over bridges. I think it has to do with my fear of heights, but whatever the reason, I get very nervous and drive like a grandma whenever I need to cross a bridge.

6. The first celebrity I ever saw in person was a dwarf by the name of Josh Ryan Evans. He was a soap opera actor for the show Passions and I saw him at LAX as he was climbing into a limo. He wasn't exactly what I had in mind for my first celebrity sighting, but hey, it still counts, lol.

7. The first pet I ever had, besides goldfish, was a white parakeet named Angel. After months and months of begging my mom, she finally let me have a pet for my 8th grade graduation gift. And I adored that bird. I was able to tame him and take him out of his cage to sit on my shoulder. He loved to chew paper, which I learned the hard way when I left him alone with my homework for a few minutes only to return and find it littered with holes, lol. You try explaing to your teacher that your bird ate your homework and see how far it gets you. Fortunately, I also took him to church with me on occasions so he could confess his sins. *g*

The seven people I tag are (who I hope haven't been tagged already!): coralfly , angela627, guitarsrawesome , losty_ville, the_darkeris , constancelight , chunkeymonkey81 .

Heath Ledger - I can't believe it :(

2008-01-23T00:04:29Z

What a terrible loss of a great talent. I feel so sad for his family, especially his daughter. God bless his soul.

R.I.P Heath.

Sending out...

2008-01-03T02:20:49Z

Mucho healing thoughts and prayers to my dear friend

xtremeroswellia. Take care of yourself hon and I hope you have a speedy recovery! *big hugs*

Happy New Year!

2007-12-31T23:13:00Z

A very happy, healthy and peaceful New Year to all of you! I hope 2008 brings you all good things and happy memories!

Merry Christmas!

2007-12-24T15:35:33Z

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to my wonderful flist! I hope you all have a lovely holiday with lots of love, peace and all that other good stuff :D! *hugs to all*

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

2007-11-22T00:26:38Z

Well, I'm off to drive to my one of my best friend's house for Thanksgiving. I've never been to her new place before and its almost 2 1/12 hours away. So hopefully I'll make it there and back in one piece LOL!

Anyways, Happy Thanksgiving to everyone on my flist! I'm thankful that I know all of you and I hope you have a wonderful day with lots of great food and family/friends to share it with you!

WGA Strike

2007-11-10T15:44:05Z

In following what's been happening with the WGA strike, I came across this great podcast that I think really pins down the issues, from the writers' point of view. Take a listen if you're interested.

http://www.samandjimgotohollywood.com/index.php?post_id=275334

As someone who has a deep love and appreciation for writing, both as a lifelong reader and an aspiring writer, I am in complete support of the WGA strike. In my opinion, the majority of these people are like you and me, just regular joe shmoes trying to make a living. Sure, there are those few writers who are lucky enough to make the big bucks, but this strike isn't really for them or about them. It's for the woman with 3 kids and a family to raise. It's for the guy who's been working in the business for 20 plus years and can still barely make the rent and put food on the table. It's for that high school kid honing her craft in her AP English class writing literary analysis essays on Shakespeare while dreaming of writing for all the tv shows and movies she loves. Mostly, it's about winning back some dignity and respect.

I love my tv shows and I'm going to be among the many disappointed folks if the strike drags on. But I really believe that this strike is worth the fight and I'll support these hardworking men and women for the long haul if that's what it takes for them to get what's due to them.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

2007-10-31T22:06:59Z

Happy Birthday to my mini BT shadow_one !!! I hope you have a great day hon! :D

Heh, I so need one of these

2007-10-24T22:59:34Z

My alarm clock just ain't cutting it. Maybe I can pick up one of these at the local Wal-mart :p.

YAY for Birthdays!

2007-09-20T01:23:34Z

Happy Birthday to my dear, dear friend xtremeroswellia !!

I hope you have a wonderful day! And presents, lots of presents :p! *big bear huggles*

SV Fic: The Last Goodbye

2007-08-15T01:45:33Z

Title: The Last Goodbye

Disclaimer: I own nothing, nada, niente.

Fandom: Smallville

Pairing: Lois/Chloe Friendship, hint of Chlark

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Up to Season 6

A/N: This a bit different from my usual fare, except for the angst, heh . In part it was inspired by one of my best friends to whom I humbly dedicate this to. And as always, feedback is love! :D

The machines hum in the darkened room around you as you clasp her hand with a resolve that tastes false because you know she is beyond even that small warmth you offer. But bravado is the only thing left you have to cling to in the face of what might be the inevitable. It’s always gotten you out of your desperate schemes before and this is as desperate as it’s ever going to get.

You no longer remember how long you’ve been sitting here at her bedside, only aware of the disparity in your grasp, your hand unyielding and hot against her cold slack. But the faint thrum of her pulse is your only assurance that there’s something left to hope for. Meanwhile, the gray tinge of her skin has begun to match the walls around you, as if she, too, is fading into the background. One day you’ll blink and you won’t be able to tell the difference between her and the furniture. It’s a thought that scares you into frantically crowding the room with flowers, pictures, books, anything. Because maybe if you fill the room with enough proof of life, she’ll want to rejoin the party eventually, leaving Death scrambling at the door, slack jawed and empty handed.

The nurses who come and go through their shifts no longer bother to urge you out of the room. Visiting hours don’t apply when she is your blood seeping out through your grief, bowing your body. So they fiddle with the machines, check the countless IVs and tubes, twist her body to and fro to prevent bedsores and contractions, eventually leaving the two of you alone with a silent squeeze of your shoulder.

The parade of visitors arrives soon after news of her condition spreads. First Uncle Gabe, his face bleak with resignation. Then there are the nameless colleagues from the Daily Planet, all uncomfortable and awkward. Next the editor in chief, Kahn, marching in and ordering her to wake up and get back to work. Jimmy arrives soon after, looking almost as fragile as you feel. He weeps into his hands and you can do nothing but blink back your own tears, too tired from your vigil to offer him anything akin to comfort. Martha comes every week, despite her hectic senatorial schedule and you are grateful because she, with her kind eyes and gentle understanding, is the only reprieve you allow yourself.

He comes everyday. It’s always at odd hours, looking tired and worn, but with that same expression on his face. As if he’s lost something he never realized he needed. And if he can trace the lines of her hands, the curve of her cheek, long enough, maybe he’ll find the map to his heart again. You look away every time, biting down on your anger. But it’s always on the tip of your tongue.

She loved you and you broke her heart. You’re too late.

But you swallow the words and you consume all your bitterness because it would hurt him. And that would hurt her. And there’s enough pain and guilt in this small room to fuel the world. Eventually though, even your anger fades, replaced by something nearly companionable between him and you. Because despite all the mistakes he can be accused of and you hate yourself for, you both love her. And love will always recognize its own kind, no matter the form.

In time, you realize that those first few weeks, despite the terror that choked you, were somehow better than this. At least panic and denial are rooted in something more visceral and concrete. But this…this, is worse. Because now you’ve settled into something hollow and bare. Sure, you still read her the Daily Planet everyday, because conscious or not, for her some forms of neglect are unforgivable. You paint her nails with colors you’d never be able to get away with if she could protest. You regale her with the humorous anecdotes you observe around the hospital, equal parts amused and horrified by the soap operatic lives the nurses and doctors lead in between surgeries and bedpans. You even gossip to her about Clark, hoping that something in your whispers about him will jar something loose in her. And in between all of this, you beg and plead with promises and threats that if she could just open her eyes, just return your deathlike vise, you’ll officially retire all your hare brained, irrational schemes that got her in this mess to begin with.

But for the first time in all the years you’ve known her, she remains silent and unmoved. And so after awhile, your chatter subsides until the time you spend with her becomes a mostly uninterrupted space of waiting. Waiting for the inevitable to arrive. Waiting for the last of your hope to burn away so you can indulge in your grief and guilt with undivided attention.

And as you wait, you find that your thoughts begin to linger on older memories before either of you got caught up in a swirl of green rocks, green arrows, psychopathic billionaires and clueless farm boys. You remember the first time you peaked over her crib, barely tall enough on your tippy toes to see the soft tufts of her blonde hair peaking out from beneath the blankets, her three day old green eyes gazing back at you with a trust that awes you even now. You remember her at nine months, wobbling after you with chubby legs and toothless grins. You smile as you see her at four years old, wailing for you as though you’d abandoned her all alone to the cold when you hopped on the school bus and waved goodbye in chagrin.

You remember her when she is seven, clinging to your waist and stilling you with those I love yous that always fell from her gap toothed grins. Even after 19 odd years, her I love yous stymies you still because love was never more than a necessary weakness, a dark secret kept in the dusty bowels of the Lane household. Not gleaming jewels thrown out frequently, unashamedly and unadorned for the world to see. But Chloe isn’t a Lane and there are few things you are more grateful for than that.

At nine, you chuckle as you remember how one day she decided the shape of her nose was entirely unacceptable and then proceeded to wear nose plugs for a straight week, convinced that she’d found the cure for those she deemed “nasally challenged.”

And then you remember her at eleven, as you chased away the neighborhood boys inextricably charmed by her golden curls and mischievous smiles. Shaking your fist as you rubbed the dirt from your eyes, you remember her infectious giggles tempting you away from your stern exasperation. Flouncing after you, she had threaded her arms through yours as you futilely lectured her. Even then, only she could defuse your anger with those same golden curls and mischievous smiles.

You remember so much and still it isn’t enough because if you had known that this room and this finality was what awaited the dearest treasure of your life, you would have done so much more. You would taken longer coffee breaks and made more frequent Ben and Jerry runs. You would have planned more ‘Karaoke Nights’ and promised less rain checks. You would have paid greater attention to the lines between her editorialized assurances that she was ‘fine’ and driven down more often to Smallville when you knew she wasn’t. You would have held her longer and tighter when she cried into your lap, heart broken by shy, black haired boys. And when she was older, you would have kicked her in the rear and made her grab onto what, no, onto who she wanted, instead of waiting on the sidelines like a martyr.

And for her, you would have bottled her laughter into the deepest chambers of your heart. For her, for her you would have stretched out Time to the very tips of its fingers.

And at last…at last, for you, you would have stitched together every memory like a patchwork quilt and wrapped it around your heart to shelter you from the tearing grief of this last goodbye.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

2007-07-22T19:07:25Z

Wow. Just wow.

So like many of those on my flist, I've been squirreled away in my room since Saturday evening reading Harry Potter. And although I promised to pace myself and savor what is now the last book of this wondrous tale that I have loved dearly for the past 7 years, I find that I can't regret blurring through (breathlessly at times) this final chapter.

I don't plan to dissect every minute detail of DH here, critique everything it didn't resolve or didn't deliver. There are people far more qualified than me to accomplish that task. But I would like to celebrate, in my own small way here, all the things about DH and Harry Potter I love.

For one thing, it’s obviously the most adult book of the series. There's a war going on and I appreciate that J.K. Rowling doesn't shy away from that reality despite all the young fans she has. I think she did a great job portraying very adult themes in a way that doesn't belittle the intelligence of kids. Love, friendship, betrayal, hope, despair, death, redemption etc, etc. It’s all there without any apology and ultimately I feel it deepens the story.

I thought the plot and the pacing of the book was enthralling. I never knew what threat was going to be around the corner for the trio. There were so many times when I would gasp or yell (startling my poor mother, lol), wondering how they would escape a particular precarious situation.

I really enjoyed learning more about the back stories of the characters, particularly Snape and Dumbledore. These characters were so alive and real to begin with, but learning more of their histories really deepened their characters for me. And I also liked how they sort of served as contrasts to each other. Up until now Snape has been much reviled, but his back story casts him in a much more sympathetic and human light. Whereas Dumbledore suffers the complete opposite as his back story casts quite a bit of doubt over his beloved persona.

One of my favorite aspects was the focus on the trio as they struggled not only with their search for the Horcruxes, Deatheaters, etc., but also their struggles with each other as they met with frustration after frustration. I've always loved the friendship between Harry, Hermione and Ron and feel that in a lot of ways, it is the crux of this series. It isn't perfect, in fact they can be downright cruel to one another, but at the end of the day when it really counts, you know these three would die for each other without a moment's hesitation. That kind of love can't help but draw you in and hold you captive. And as much as I adored the big battles and epic moments throughout the book, the most touching and heartbreaking bits were those little moments littered throughout that captured their affection for each other. Hermione holding Harry’s hand as they stand over his parents’ graves; Harry comforting and forgiving Ron. And one moment in particular, when Hermione brushes the top of Harry's head as all his beliefs about Dumbledore begin to unravel- well call me a sap but I about bawled as much over that small detail as some of the deaths.

And speaking of all the deaths, what can I say? I know some people might argue that many of those deaths were of secondary characters and perhaps anticlimactic, but for me, they were as horrifying and anguishing as Dumbledore's and Sirius'. In particular Dobby and Fred - I don't even have the words except to wonder how I was even able to go on and finish the book at those points, lol.

I thought the plot was both intricate and intriguing, between the horcruxes and the Hallows. The last stand with Voldermort was really amazing for me. I didn't have a clue as to how it would all end, so discovering that Harry was the last horcrux and how he needed to 'die' in order to live, essentially, was quite a shock for me. I mean, it’s a common theme in a lot of literature I think, but with a clever twist.

Overall, I truly loved the book and I think it’s a wonderful way to end a series that I would have loved to see go on for many, many more books. It pulled so many emotions out of me and it reminded me of why I love these characters and this story so much. And I think whether you love, hate or could care less about Harry Potter, you have to at least have respect for a story and an author that has helped to revive a dying medium. As much as I love music, movies, art etc., books have always been my first and best love. Nothing can get to me quite like the written word and nowadays it seems to be a fading pleasure. Somehow J.K. Rowling has managed to bring back the joy of books for millions of both children and adults. And for that, my hats off to her.

I hope all of you on my flist get as much enjoyment out of DH as I have. Thanks for reading my verbose ramblings, lol and I really look forward to reading your reactions and thoughts!

SV Fic: Heartbeat

2007-07-21T04:25:24Z

Title: Heartbeat

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Don't sue!

Fandom: Smallville

Pairing: Chlark

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Season 7

A/N: Another angst ficlet that I wrote awhile back but never got around to posting until now. The fact that I somehow guessed the spoilers for the season premier was a total coincidence, lol. Who knew I had psychic powers? :p Anyhoo, read on and as always, feedback is love!

Once, before the world spindled out of his control, Clark had believed she would always burn brightly, would always radiate with an enduring light. Her eyes, so quick and fierce, had gleamed with an acuity most people dismissed with the flip of her blonde hair. But she never allowed that to creep under her skin. It was simply another piece of arsenal to add to her trunk full of surprises. Chloe was nothing if not resourceful.

Even at thirteen, when the trappings of adolescence for most seemed to hold time captive to the dissymmetry of now – uneven spurts, faltering starts, graceless falls – Chloe suffered no illusions about her destiny. Or allowed anything to distract her from carving out her place in the world.

She had disarmed him with a kiss that first day, outside in a field of corn with the sunlight branding her lips on his. Imprinting him with the promise of more, then promptly commandeering what their relationship would grow to be. Thirteen and so unsure of everything, it didn’t occur to Clark to argue. Dazed by her playful audacity, by her lingering scent, it wouldn’t register until much later how deeply she would cement her place in his destiny.

And it wouldn’t occur to him until years down the road that in that moment, the heartbeat he heard thundering in his ears had not been his own.

The steel table bows beneath his grip. For once, he doesn’t care to control himself. He doesn’t care that if he is found caught in the morgue, glass scattered across the floor and the metal door shattered in pieces, questions he cannot avoid will be asked. He doesn’t care, doesn’t give a damn because the sound deafening his ears now is a silence that howls against his denial.

She is laid out before him, naked underneath a thin sheet. Death casts a pall of rigidity so foreign to her features that Clark wonders if this is somehow all a mistake. That Lois got it wrong, like she so often does. It is a vicious moment which has him grasping at the possibility that this is not his Chloe, spread out with such cruel disregard.

But for all his desperate disbelief, he cannot ignore the absence he feels beneath his hand as he grips her wrist, limp against his palm. No fluttering of eyelids. No shallows breaths. No threads of a pulse to hold back the floodgates.

He shuts his eyes and allows exhaustion to sink him to the floor. Desperately, he wants to run from this place and away from this cold shell. But numbness overtakes him and he finds that he cannot find the strength to leave her, alone. It feels too much like abandonment.

The world fades away and he can no longer clutch at the receding hope of what might have been. Everything he did not do, did not say claws at him.

“Chloe? Chloe, you okay? Chloe? Chloe! I was afraid I lost you!”

“You were the one person who believed in me, I don’t know what I’d do without you Chloe.

“Oh is this when I’m supposed to cue the Barry Manilow music?”

“No seriously. You mean a lot more to me than you know.

“Look I understand that you feel like all these psychopathic space invaders are your fault but you can’t keep it all inside. You feel the need to carry the world on your shoulders and that’s noble, but there are other people out there who want to help you fight the good fight and you need to let them in. Because sometimes even heroes need to be saved.”

The grief overwhelms him, cloaked with the inescapable awareness that in the end he failed her. So many close calls, his gifts blinding him with a foolish confidence that had frittered away too many second chances. As if tomorrow was in infinite supply.

“What am I supposed to do now, Chloe?”

“How am I supposed to survive witho-” His voice fractures and the question dies in the air.

Blindly groping, he rises to his feet, legs threatening to fold beneath him. He cannot look at her as he stumbles away and it feels like so much a betrayal.

And then……thump...thump

That beat, so achingly familiar and impossibly present. It saturates his senses, rooting him to the ground. A pause and he wonders if insanity has finally taken hold of him.

“Clark?”

Her voice trembles, soft and husky with confusion. He whirls around and it takes all his strength to remain upright. Sitting up with the sheet clutched to her chest, Chloe blinks at him in bewilderment and he is overwhelmed at the wonder of life radiating off of her. Through the glimmer of his tears, she blazes so brightly that he nearly cries out from the burn.

Somehow he moves through the space between them to seize her with a desperation that robs him of breath and words.

He clutches her to his chest, a tangle of arms and legs. Unable to bear the crippling relief, he slips to his knees, hands splayed across her back like a caress, his head resting against her chest. He feels the anguish slipping off him liked unwanted skin. Delicate hands rest on his head, gently sifting comfort into his hair.

He knows he should be holding her, consoling her. But he can do nothing but be awash in the soft warmth of her skin, the even rise and fall of her chest, the fragrance of her life pouring over him, renewing into him a faith he didn’t care to lose.

And he silently weeps to the steady beat of her heart.

Meme Time!

2007-06-19T23:01:56Z

Hmmm, interesting....

GAH! New Kelly Clarkson Single!

2007-06-06T23:04:07Z

*flailz madly*

Sober - http://wms.stream.aol.com/aol/us/aolmusic/artists/bmg/kellyclarkson/kellyclarkson_sober_bmg_96.wma

*skips off to listen a bajillion times*

SV Ficlet: Absolution

2007-05-19T01:38:35Z

Title: Absolution

Author: ellie06

Disclaimer: I own nothing. And I’m poor. Have pity on me :p

Fandom: Smallville

Pairing: Chlark

Rating: PG

Spoilers: None

A/N: This is a future ficlet. Much angst ensues, so be warned. And of course, feedback is love!

Life is cruel. She is the oldest and thus entitled.

Clark always was a slow learner, at least when it came to the things that mattered. But after 300 years or so (he stopped counting after 250), some things manage to penetrate that steel skin. And the irony of his life sits on his chest with impenetrable clarity.

The wind picks up and rustles autumn leaves around his feet. A light patter of rain dusts his suit, dampening the air around him. Twilight casts a hazy hue across the landscape. He is surrounded by earth and bone. Dust and ash. Most of the stones stand unevenly now, cracked and abandoned. Words have faded, leaving the dead nameless. Age has touched this place and he now knows that even death surrenders to time.

Time. A middle child and crueler still for her envy of what was, is, will be.

He hates this place. Hates that it has come to mean everything she never was. But he comes because the years have been unkind to everything but memory. Everything fades under time's unforgiving gaze. Except need and want. Except longing, loneliness.

Never grief.

Three lifetimes have passed. Two and three quarters more than she had and still he returns here seeking forgiveness for sins she never counted, much less needed to absolve. But then she wouldn't have been surprised over his self flagellation. It was her favorite target of teasing after all.

"It's your most fearsome superpower! Faster than a speeding bullet! Able to leap laws of logic in a single bound! It'sssssssss SUPER GUILT!"

"Very funny, Chloe. Ha Ha."

"Hey, don't blame me for your bloated sense of responsibility. That puppy is so overfed, it's no wonder you need super strength to lug your sad sack self around."

"You know, I don't recall you ever complaining about my 'bloated sense of responsibility’ whenever you wheedle me into getting you a double caramel mocha at 2 am in the morning. From Italy! In fact, what were your words exactly? 'Please Clark! After all those times I've hacked into highly classified government databases for you! I've committed felonies for you! It's the lea...MMPH!'"

“Oh hush, you know you wanted to. Besides, how else am I going to get you out of that barn? The world is your playground, Clark. It's time to jump on the monkey bars and take some risks."

"Exactly how much caffeine have you had today? The metaphors are even more out there than usual. And I'm pretty much fluent in Chloe speak by now."

"Wouldn't you and my bladder like to know?"

"Too much information, Chlo."

"Ha. You know you love me."

Above all things, even more than his immortality, he curses his photographic memory. Nothing dims, nothing erodes. No, it all remains with a clarity that cuts sharply, making him bleed in places no one will ever see.

He wonders if this is his penance, but brushes aside the idle thought because it is unworthy of her.

Kneeling before her headstone, he lightly brushes fingertips over the fading engraving of her name. So little remains of her now and the bitterness nearly overtakes him. Now, her life is only marked by this cold piece of granite in a forgotten place.

"I'm sorry."

It is never enough, but he says the words every time, every visit. He no longer questions his need for this, only accepts that it exists and like so many things, he will not fight the unknown.

Just as he will not fight this rush of remembrance that nearly unbinds him.

The furrow of her brow as she chased after her truths. Laughter across wheat fields as they raced under a golden sky. Coffee breaks and flannel fights. Lingering gazes over fireplace chats. Petty arguments, huffy retreats and heated reunions. Sleepy confessions on a hay covered barn floor. The whisper of his name in the hum of her body. The embrace of her smile. Her eyes, honey green and brimming with everything he would not say.

The granite cracks beneath his hand. Ash on his fingers, ash on his tongue.

"You know you love me."

It is the youngest that will break him in the end.

Love. She's the cruelest bitch of all.

Holy Hotness Batman!

2007-05-01T23:39:49Z

Kelly Clarkson's new music for 'Never Again' is ALL kinds of HAWTNESS!!!

Is anyone else uber excited for her new album? Anyone? *bounces off walls* :D

SV Ficlet: Prey

2007-04-27T23:43:44Z

Title: Prey
Author: ellie06
Disclaimer: I own nothing! Don't sue!
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chloe/Lex
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
A/N: So I’ll admit it, I’m a closet Chlexer. But if I ever find the person who snuck me the crack that grew this rabid bunny, I’m going to….*shakes fist.* All those Chlarkers on my flist, forgive this detour. Hopefully it will be the last :p! And as always, feedback is love!!

His breath hisses through her hair in time with his hips, like staccato beats as he bears down into her, skin sliding into skin. Ironic, she muses. Even when he fucks, he’s still the same. It only reminds her more of his reptilian nature. Cold, calculating.

Deadly.

“Does he know?” He asks the question, punctuating it with a thrust that leaves her shuddering when he withdraws.

“Does it matter?” It isn’t a question, but she asks it anyway. Because this is their game and she’ll be damned before she breaks the rules.

He twines his hand through her hair, damp with their mingled sweat. Loosely at first, then tightening it around his fist and snapping back her head to reveal her neck to the open air. A kiss, followed by an ungentle graze, marking her with his teeth. He smiles into her skin and she feels the curves like a mockery, predatory and vicious.

“Does he know?” He repeats the question, not because he doesn’t know the answer. Lex never comes unprepared. He simply enjoys the pleasure of her pain. And he’ll have hers one way or other. Lex never comes wanting.

“Yes.” She gasps, and the word twists out in an endless confession, a poor attempt to drown out the satisfaction glinting in his eyes as he escalates the rhythm of his thrusts.

“Yesyesyesyesyes!”

He slides a hand down between them, thumbing her clit, drawing a guttural moan out of her as she tightens around him helplessly, hot and wet.

He grunts, once, twice. His hips lose their rhythm as he pistons against her wildly, his only loss of control. He comes hard and punishing, scalding her with his release as she trembles violently against him and cries out her own relief.

Chests heaving, he rolls off her onto his back. The fading heat of his body on top of hers is the closet thing to warmth she has felt since….she closes her eyes and shuts away the memory.

“Does she know?” She asks the question, not because she cares. It hovers in the air, strung between pity and kindness. Chloe never comes unprepared. And she’ll deliver this cruelest cut with a smile and a sparkle.

Silence stretches between them marked only by the sudden tautness of his body. Something nameless curves the edges of her lips, a mockery of a smile.

And she wonders if she is the prey after all.

Smallville O_O

2007-04-27T01:04:09Z

I......liked Lana.....O_O.

Sweet Jesus. Exactly when did hell freeze over and how come no one bothered to tell me?!