blueicarus - Tumblr blog

[blueicarus]

everything everything everything everything

but my everything isn't much - my cup is small and it overflows and depletes too quickly

im willing to give you my everything until i have nothing left to give and then my everything will turn to resent for everything you have taken from me

How much of yourself are you willing to give?

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I know you loved me. I just don’t understand why you didn’t love me enough to stay.

Sylvain Reynard (via quotemadness)

it is because i loved you that i had to leave – it hurt to see you change yourself to fit my needs – it ached to see you in pain when i couldnt meet your needs

im sorry i couldnt give you what you deserve when you gave me so much

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she can still feel the extra weight when she walks - her hand goes to hover over an imaginary lump. sometimes she forgets that her old clothes fit her again. when she wakes up at night to phantom kicks there is a second of confusion until she remembers.

he remembers but he chooses to forget. he throws himself at work, hopeless in his inability to provide comfort. the memory of joy fades to nothing, the pain fades to a dull ache in the back of his mind.

their parents offered comfort at first - phone calls, anecdotes from their own life, casseroles and dumplings. eventually they too faded away after being met with the same shallow smile and dull eyes.

she doesn’t feel anything though - after all she only exists in the memories and imagined futures of what she could’ve been that play in the minds of her almost-parents.

Who left?

Who is left?

[blueicarus]

Ｔｏ： ＠ｐｕｓｈｋｉｎｓ Ｓｕｂｊｅｃｔ： ｃｏｍｍｉｓｓｉｏｎ

𝙏𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙘: 𝘼𝙙𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠.

𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘥. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 - 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘪𝘯. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘨𝘰𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 "𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶" 𝘵𝘰. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘶𝘱 - 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘸𝘰 - 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 - 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 - 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵  𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘸𝘰-𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 “𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘐'𝘥 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶” - “𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳” - “𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥”.

𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.

𝙏𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙘: 𝘼𝙙𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙞𝙨 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙. 𝙏𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙘: 𝘼𝙙𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙙 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙. 𝙏𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙘: 𝘼𝙙𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣’𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. 𝙏𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙘: 𝘼𝙙𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙥 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙨𝙤 𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 ��𝙞𝙩𝙝 (𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙮𝙘𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩). 𝙏𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙘: 𝘼𝙙𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙥 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚.

𝙏𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙘: 𝘼𝙙𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙤𝙣.

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«Black is onyx, glittering in the sun     (a false sense of protection, worth less than a piece of coal) Black is the silence, still and waiting     (it is a reminder of the nothingness that awaits your soul) Black is the darkness, in which someone hides     (can you hear the claws scratching at the door?) Black is the night when they lie wide awake     (they come out, roaming for another bite more) Black is the hair, shielding their face     (dark as pitch, it sucks in surrounding light) Black are the eyes, observing the world     (it hides the soulless black eyes, beady and bright) Black are the heart that they consume     (there’s a stench in the air, foul and rotten) Black is the pit, a swirling abyss     (the dark cold ground swallows you whole, forever forgotten)»

-black  Anathema Schatten

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A Second’s Hesitation is All That It Takes So this was the short fanfic I ever wrote in middle school. Enjoy

"What do you want?" snapped an exasperated red haired girl about 15. "I'm tired of your games."  "My games?" scoffed the blond boy indignantly. "If my memories serve me right, it takes two to play a games, Weaslette." "Yet who started them?" retorted the ever-sarcastic Rose Weasly, flipping her loose curls over her sholder. "See! You don't even deny it!" cried Scorpius, a bit triumphantly. "You don't even bother denying that you played along!" "Your point being?" Rose drawled, paying immense attention to her nails. "That you want this as much as I do," came the reply. Rose glanced up to see Scorpius inches from her face, and cursed the fact that she was backed up against the wall. She hesitated - Fight or flight? - and that was all it took. Scorpius Malfoy's lips were on hers faster that one could say 'snitch'. She could practically feel herself melting, unconsciously arching her body to fit his. Her thoughts flooded away as his tongue traced her lower lip and her hands became tangled in his tousled blond hair. Suddenly, all to soon, he pulled away. "Told you, Weaslette," he smirked into her ear. When she finally came to her senses, he was already at the end of the corridor. "You will pay for this, Ferret Boy," Rose snarled angrily after him.

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«what is a name? what meaning or impact or role does it play? is a name not just another label? what if there is no name that feels right? what if you have multiple names?

why can i not find a name? why do people get upset over names? is it really that big of a deal? why are names more important than other things? why doesn’t any name feel right?

maybe it’s because my name is lost, unheard and unspoken on my birth mothers lips.»

-nameless Anathema Schatten

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Ginsy Fic Preview, Ch 1

I said I would get a preview out of my non-magical Ginsy fic for valentines. Sorry its not much. Might post a more romantic scene from the story later tonight after my swim meet

Weekday nights at Three Broomsticks Café tended to be slow. Located near Hogsmeade College, a lot of students tended to stop by on Friday and Saturday nights to hang out or on Sunday nights to finish papers they had procrastinated over the weekend. For barista Ginerva Weasley, the lack of weeknight customers meant that she could sneak in a few extra minutes of studying. Technically it wasn’t allowed, but without any customers in the café, no one was about to stop her. Between her classes, soccer practice, and work, finding time to do her schoolwork wasn’t always easy. Wednesday nights in particular were reserved for the ridiculous amount of work her Anatomy and Physiology professor assigned.

Her 20 minutes silent staring contest with her homework was interrupted by the light tinkling of the bell attached to the café door. Ginny threw down her pencil, thankful for the excuse to stop working and take a break, and headed towards the counter to give the typical greeting.

“Welcome to Three Broomsticks Café! How can I help you?” The first thing Ginny noticed about the unfamiliar customer was how her slight ink stained hands contrasted with the manicured fingernails and put together appearance. The second was the Hogwarts University keychain that hung on a set of keys in the ink stained hands. Ah. That would explain why Ginny never saw this girl before.

Hogwarts University was located just outside Hogsmeade, which was a small section of the larger Hogwarts City. It was fairly close to Hogsmeade College, but the students from the two schools rarely interacted. Hogwarts was the more prestigious school with higher admission requirements and higher tuition. It attracted students who came from rich and prestigious families. Hogsmeade College was just as good HU, (in Ginny’s opinion), just without all the titles and prestige that HU had. Compared to HC, the students were more of the average person you’d meet on the street. Plus, both schools were considered Division 1, and as an athlete, thats all that mattered to Ginny. The prestige of a college didn’t matter on the field. However, HU students rarely ventured into Hogsmeade and Ginny certainly never say one at Three Broomsticks before.

“Can I get a large white mocha?” the girl asked without looking up, pulling out a shiny green card from a wallet and handing it over the counter.

“Sure. No problem. It’ll be 3.14.” The card identified the girl as Pansy Parkinson. In Ginny’s opinion, the name of a common flower didn’t seem to fit the cultured voice and appearance of the girl.  She passed the card back to Pansy, who quickly took it back and headed to a table in the front corner, all without looking at Ginny once. Biting back retort about this was not some fancy restaurant where people served you, Ginny began to busy herself with making the drink. Apparently the this Pansy had the same stuck up attitude that all of the other HU students had.

“One large white mocha for Pansy!” she called, placing the drink on the side counter. No response. “Large white mocha!” she tried again. Wait. She had earbuds in.

Ginny carried over the mug and set it next to Pansy’s work laid out on the small table. There were series of sketches all laid out, most were buildings done in graphite. The girl finally looked up as Ginny set the mug down.

“Oh. Sorry about that. Thank you,” she said, popping out an earbud.

“These are pretty good,” Ginny commented, eyes trailing over the various drawings. “Are you an art major?”

“No actually. I’m majoring architecture, but these are for my drawing class. Last minute assignment I forgot about.”

“Really? Why architecture?” Just like how Ginny felt the name did not fit the girl, she didn't see Pansy as an architect.

“My dad owns a building company. I’m an only child, so I figured I may as well take over eventually.”

Her father owned a company. Of course he did. What else would she expect from a Hogwarts College student.

“What about you? What are you majoring in?”

Nothing impressive compared to you. Ginny thought. “Oh, just sports medicine. I’ve played soccer all my life, and so has the rest of my family. I’ve had my fair share of sports injuries, so I figured I may as well go into a field I have personal experience in.”

Pansy nodded appreciatively. “You must be pretty smart then. I don't think I could ever do science or medicine.”

[blueicarus]

King’s Cross Station was crowded; more so than usual. People who were oddly dressed stood around chattering loudly, confusing the daily attendees with their excitement, for they had not heard of any particular event occurring on this day.

All of a sudden, a shout went up, “There he is! It’s the Potters!!” Immediately the strange crowed rushed over to where a tall man with black curly hair was entering the station with a red haired woman by his side. Behind them trailed two boys, the oldest holding the hand of a girl who looked similar to her mother.

The people were confused. They had never seen this man before, and yet what seemed to be reporters were clamoring over this family. The tall black haired man certainly did not seem happy at the reporters, to say the least. However, as the family approached the 9th station, they found suddenly that their memory of the man seemed almost blurred and insignificant.

Meanwhile, the Potters met with the Weasley family in front of the entrance to Platform 9 ¾. To Harry, it was almost surreal. The Potters and Weasley’s had decided to meet here, just like Harry had met them so many years ago. While using the Floo would’ve certainly attracted less attention, there was something special in the nostalgia of remembering his first trip to Hogwarts. Harry bent down to his son’s level, “You ready, James?” he asked. James rolled his eyes, “Of course I am. Can we just go now?” Harry laughed. James wasn’t the type to be patient when he was excited. With that he stepped aside, and James raced forward and through the barrier. One-by-one all the other children followed. Lily and Albus, then Hugo and Rose, followed by George’s and Percy’s children. As Harry pushed the cart with his eldest’s belongings, he couldn’t help but think of how this was where it all started. Everything had turned out okay, and now his children were able to go to school and have the childhood that so many others before them had been unable to have.

-September 1st Anathema Schatten

[blueicarus]

it must be the warn summer nights that makes me wild and free.

it must be the warm summer nights that makes me lonely and longing.

it must be the warm summer nights that makes me love you.

-warm summer nights Anathema Schatten

[blueicarus]

«Cold and still she waits For something to melt her walls Warm her once again»

-Ice Anathema Schatten

[blueicarus]

«Dancing in the night Her flames match the drums rhythm Reaching for the stars»

-Fire Anathema Schatten

[blueicarus]

The Secret History: Review

So first off, this book is not for everyone. I know everyone highly requests it, but really. If you don't like long winded movies like Barry Lyndon or Doctor Zhivago or even Boyhood, you will hate this book.

The Secret History is a slow moving book that follows narrator Richard in a small New England school in the 1980s where he meets, befriends, and end up in a small and almost cult like group. There are only 5 other people in this small select group all taught by one professor, Julian Morrow. They discuss greek classics, theology, and philosophy as Julian tries to make himself out to be a god, or at least one of the omniscient teachers of ancient greek such as Plato. The story at first seems to be based solely around the murder of Bunny but there is much more too it.

First of all, if you tend to read books at a surface level, there is a good chance this book will be a hit or miss. The Secret History is slow paced and long. At 500 pages and many without what some may call 'insignificant action to the plot', it can be a turn off. If you are expecting a mystery novel you'll be very disappointed very quickly. The purpose of this novel is not to explain how the murder of Bunny Corcoran came about. Rather, at a more surface level, this book is all about building a particular atmosphere. It's an atmosphere and aesthetic I've begun to link to winter; dark, cold, and solitary. Yet somehow something draws you back, whether the curiosity or the chilling beauty of the aesthetic and world it creates. (The chilling beauty is like a large sharp icicle to me. Beautiful but dangerous  should you be under it when it falls. or somehow get stabbed by it). And this book is all about building this world and creating this feeling. So if that's not your thing, don't bother

If you read or even re-read books on a more in-depth, you might be more likely to enjoy this book. (I tend to read books very surface level but subconsciously will read deeper, for i noticed if you ask me the right questions i find that i have automatically proceeded the book at a deeper level then i may have originally thought).

This book focuses on 6 young adults who are all trying to create a perfect and ideal version of themselves. Even their professor can be shown as creating this image of perfection. So let's start with Professor Julian Morrow, the puppet master of all of this. Julian is a professor who creates an air of power and grandeur by acting as an all knowing teacher passing on his knowledge to students who wish to achieve this level of perfection that Julian seems to emit. He has traveled and knows important people. He is knowledgeable in philosophy and language. But most importantly, is his knowledge of ancient Greek and even Roman philosophy and theology. For many decades, and even now, the Greek and Roman schools of thought were seen as the foundations of all modern science, math, art, and thinking. They were the epitome of perfection. By creating this air around himself, Julian pulls in others that seek to achieve this level of aesthetic perfection. He spots those who fit is own form of aesthetic beauty, (rich, attractive, and all wearing masks of being greater than they are), and draws them in with promises that offer this grandeur and aesthetic perfection. To his students, he likens himself to the classic teachers of the old such as Plato, who would take on a few students and teach them all he knew. He even states this upon Richard's questioning as to why one he would take all his classes, save for french, with Julian. Julian points out that students of Plato, such as Aristotle, and learned all they had from only one Teacher. And that is what Julian does.

Moving onto the characters, each and every one of them are all flawed, pretentious and highly unlikeable. Perhaps most of all is Bunny. However with a closer look, you'll notice that they are simply playing a particular character and adopting an identity that they have created for themselves to live up to this expedition that as rich young adults, they must be perfect. in Bunny's case, it is of a rich and extravagant young man who has no cares in the world and where money is the least of concerns. For Richard, it is to fit in this seemingly closed off world of wealth and knowledge. Each of the 6 characters have a secret which they are hiding under their individual identity they have assumed-- And ever. single. one. is obsessed with this ultimate form of beauty that they all wish to achieve. (this can be seen being played out where the infamous quote of 'beauty is terror' is first spoken) Arguably, this quest for beauty is the True main plot of this book. The search for the unobtainable and the willingness to do anything to achieve it. to draw reference to ancient Greece, the unobtainable and perfect dimensions that rule the hellenistic marble statues.

Naturally, the dangerous of this one track minded-quest is also outlined. The characters have little interaction outside of each other. Most fall into an addition, weather it is alcohol, substance abuse or excessive spending. And ultimately, murder.

i think it's also important to remember the age of our characters, which is 19 through 21. They are at a time when the world is theirs to take. no fear at all and confined in their bubble in which they all search for perfection and hide their fatal flaw. Many of these flaws stem from deep rooted family issues and disillusion with their past.

Now to address the unbelievability of the Bacchus rituals. I have heard it once stated in a review, that they saw the Bacchus rituals as more of a cover. They believed that Camilla and Charles were caught in some compromising situation by the farmer, so they killed him along with Henry's help. Bunny had seen camilla and Charles as well, or he simply began to come closer to the truth of the matter. and thus they killed Bunny to protect both their hand in the farmer's murder and the reputations of the Twins and Henry.

Whether you choose to believe that version, the version in which they have achieved frenzy, or in which they were simply high and drunk off of substances and the moon's energy, is up to you.

http://www.readitforward.com/essay/why-i-hated-the-secret-history/ I think this review was very well written and showed the difference between a surface read and an in depth read of this book.  

Why did i like it personally? I liked it because i could relate to it. This endless search for aesthetic beauty and a certain extent of extremes to get it. Naturally, The Secret History exaggerates beyond what most will go to achieve this, but never the less, for me I still could relate to the basic points of it. The longing to make oneself grander then they are, to seem more knowledgeable and classy. To have an air of wealth, perfection and independence.

Perhaps I am attempting to achieve the same thing just by reading this book and writing this review.

To sum it up, if you want to read this book I suggest a basic understanding of ancient Greek mythology and philosophy as well as an understanding of what aesthetic beauty is. Likewise, I suggest that you do not go into this book reading it as a mystery novel.

Happy reading!

Anathema Schatten

[blueicarus]

«Your hands knot into my hair I can smell the smoke on your breath You’re close enough that you radiate your warmth to me You say you love me and yet all I see are ice shards in your eyes You’re making my ear tips freeze Bleed Your breath brings warmth to my face But your eyes are giving me frostbite»

-12 AM Ramblings  Anathema Schatten