blog introduction! <3
hi all! my name is zoey (they/she), and im making my return to tumblr! i am wanting to interact and follow other writers and artists alike so please interact or share this if you're interested hehe.
my favorite book > the girl who circumnavigated fairyland in a ship of her own making by catherynne m. valente
my favorite authors > catherynne m. valente(!!), rick riordan, douglas adams, amanda lovelace(!!)
themes of my writing + !warnings > fantasy, magic, au, strong platonic friendships/found family, lgbt, mythology, poetry, regional gothic, love, BUT ALSO MAY INCLUDE !drugs, !alcohol, !blood, !depression, !fire, !death, !emotional abuse (sometimes i write about my own experiences).
my favorite genres > fantasy, ya, mythology, historical fiction, sci-fi, regional gothic.
some fun facts about me > i am a cancer sun, libra moon, scorpio rising!! i have a cat (monk) and a dog (jessie)!! i love to read poetry although i'm terrible at writing it and i also like to game (xbox x, nintendo switch). i'm open to new friends and to checking out some WiP's when i have the time:)
blog faq > ok to tag in ask games or writing games!! ask box open to everyone for anything:)
works in progress? chalk mountain; under tag: #wip: chalk mountain
look forward to meeting and following you all; peace and love, unmellow yellow fellow. 🫶
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HPMA; Dawncey ficlets, part 1
It’s the first night of autumn term and Quincey is glad to be back at school and away from his hectic muggle life. That is, until he runs into his classmate and a bitter Quidditch rival; Dawn Harvelle.
Words: 900
Warnings: Under-age drinking (mentioned)
A/N: This is the first part of a series of little Dawncey ficlets, set during their 6th year.
MCs mentioned:
Dawn Harvelle by @potionboy3
Pandora Lovelace by @gcldensnitch
Beginning|Next Chapter
September 1st, 2012
It was the first night of the term and the welcome feast had drawn to its conclusion. Quincey’s friends had all gone ahead to the dorm, but he felt like taking the long way round. It was good being back at school. Everything at home was a mess right now, and his mother was furious with him for making tabloid headlines at Jessie’s party. It was not as if he had meant to drink as much as he had, much less throw up on his 2000£ Gucci bomber jacket, but it was all partly his mother’s fault, for pestering him about quitting Hogwarts as not to arouse suspicion. They had always told a story about a very prestigious boarding school in Switzerland, and the Headmistress had been kind enough to assist Quincey in the lie. Social media had made being a secret wizard much more difficult than Quincey thought was fair. Social media had made everything much more difficult than Quincey thought was fair. To his dismay, Quincey was pulled away from his thoughts by a familiar voice behind him in the corridor:
“Is your school uniform more or less expensive than your usual party wear?”
Quincey stopped and turned on his heels. Dawn Harvelle, Gryffindor’s Quidditch team’s seeker, a professional prick, and a constant thorn in Quincey’s side walked towards him with a grin plastered on his face.
“They’re all the same,” Quincey answered. He was not in the mood for this. Dawn was a muggleborn like him, and the fact that they were Quidditch rivals had made sure that he was always in the loop for Quincey’s latest tabloid plunders.
“Does this look the same to you?” Dawn asked, pointing to his own uniform. Upon further inspection, it was clearly second-hand. Quincey felt ridiculous.
“I only meant that there’s no secret diamond-encrusted sweater model sewn with golden thread.”
“Obviously, but there is a prize-range,” Dawn countered. “Have you ever been to Madam Malkin’s yourself?”
Quincey didn’t say anything but started walking. Dawn followed him.
“Didn’t mean to fry your brain, Your Highness.”
“You’re funny,” Quincey said, as flatly as he could muster.
“It’s my best quality,” Dawn said. “Along with my good looks and charm, of course.”
Quincey tried very, very hard not to roll his eyes.
“You changed your hair,” Dawn noted. Quincey instinctively touched his hair. He had let it grow a bit and dyed it a few shades darker.
“I like to switch things up,” he said.
“I’ve noticed.”
“I’m going to make it darker still.”
“I thought you were for sure like, not allowed to dye your hair under any circumstances.”
“It’s not like that, though my parents do take an interest in my fashion choices,” Quincey explained. Truthfully, his mother didn’t like him dying his hair and it was infinitely annoying. “So usually I just experiment here at school.”
“Magic saves your rebel soul,” offered Dawn. Everything he said sounded like a joke on Quincey’s expense. It probably was.
“Colovaria does come in handy.”
“You any good?”
“I think so,” replied Quincey. “I mean once I tried it on my fingernails and couldn’t get the colour out for days.”
“Wizards are too lazy for their own good,” Dawn muttered.
“That I can agree with.”
“Your family isn’t much better, though,” Dawn added, making their brief moment of seeing eye to eye dissipate right in front of Quincey’s eyes.
“Mmh.”
“All but you, of course, my rebel prince.”
“I’m really not,” Quincey sighed. This whole conversation was aggravating.
“Oh, I know.”
“Good.”
“Aw, you do care what I think of you!”
“Not in particular,” Quincey retorted. If there ever was an anthropomorphic personification of a headache, he was looking at him. “Except in the pitch.”
“That’s the spirit,” Dawn grinned.
“See you there,” said Quincey.
“It’s a date.”
Suddenly Quincey realized that they were nearly to the dungeons. He was going to his common room, but he had no idea where Dawn was headed.
“The Gryffindor Tower’s the other way,” he said.
Dawn looked momentarily taken aback. Then his face went back to its neutral state of being annoyingly smug. “I’m going to meet Pandora by the Kitchens.”
“Well then we’re headed the same way.”
“Obviously,” Dawn said.
“Obviously,” Quincey agreed. Dawn cleared his throat. Quincey gave him a quizzical look.
“Something in my throat,” he said quickly. “You going to miss all your fancy celebrity friends?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“Even after you threw up in Jessie J’s party?”
“All of them thought it was hilarious,” sighed Quincey.
“Am I giving you hell?”
“No.”
“Dammit, I have to ty harder.”
“Don’t you have anything better to do?”
Dawn laughed a little. “Yes, but you’re here now.”
This time Quincey did roll his eyes. Dawn blew him a kiss.
“I’m only teasing, you can, of course, be friends with whomever you want.”
“Thank you,” Quincey said. “Not that I require your permission.”
“Only your mother’s.”
Quincey almost wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but he didn’t, instead he said: “Mh.”
Dawn looked at him for a moment. Quincey couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
“This is your stop, isn’t it?” asked Dawn eventually. Quincey looked around and noticed they were at the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room.
“Oh, yes.”
“Well,” Dawn said. “Good talk.”
“Yes,” agreed Quincey, though it was the opposite. “Very enlightening.”
“I’m a very enlightened person.”
Quincey shook his head. “Tell Pandora I said hi.”
“What? Oh, yeah, I will,” Dawn said. Quincey waved at him and the Gryffindor headed towards the Kitchen. Quincey turned and went into the common room. If he didn’t have to talk to Dawn Harvelle ever again, it would be too soon.
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Ada Lovelace: The Poet Of Science By Diane Stanley
From nonfiction stars Diane Stanley and Jessie Hartland comes a beautifully illustrated biography of Ada Lovelace, who is known as the first computer programmer.
Two hundred years ago, a daughter was born to the famous poet, Lord Byron, and his mathematical wife, Annabella.
Like her father, Ada had a vivid imagination and a creative gift for connecting ideas in original ways. Like her mother, she had a passion for science, math, and machines. It was a very good combination. Ada hoped that one day she could do something important with her creative and nimble mind.
A hundred years before the dawn of the digital age, Ada Lovelace envisioned the computer-driven world we know today. And in demonstrating how the machine would be coded, she wrote the first computer program. She would go down in history as Ada Lovelace, the first computer programmer.
Diane Stanley’s lyrical writing and Jessie Hartland’s vibrant illustrations capture the spirit of Ada Lovelace and bring her fascinating story vividly to life.
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