Her Bailiwick

No more LJ Journal Postings

Thu, 20 Sep 2007 18:41:33 GMT

Last journal post on LJ.

You can find me at IJ, though. http://alwaysasnapefan.insanejournal.com

Read my fics, make comments, etc.

1st comp paper, rough draft

Wed, 05 Sep 2007 08:11:09 GMT

It was the third time I had been out on the swing that Sunday. I was in my “happy place”—swinging was the best thing in the world, or close to it. It was my dirty little secret, to be approaching my senior year of high school and still participate in the greatest pastime of my youth. I can’t describe such peace as I felt in that moment—until the chain snapped.

It took me a moment to realize I was no longer airborne. The first thing I noticed was that my glasses were missing from my face. And then I realized, upon moving my right arm—or attempting to—that I had been betrayed by my playground lover. Sixteen years’ time was not enough to spare me. My arm was a vertically-laid checkmark, a ghastly, unreal image. The bone was no longer whole.

Immediately reminded of a scene in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets where the bones in Harry Potter’s arm are removed in a magical accident, leaving behind a rubbery tube of flesh with a hand (sort of) on the end, my first thought was “Wow, cool!” And then the fact that this was a very, very bad thing hit me. I was in shock as I stood, and therefore felt no pain. I let my small dog into the house as tears fell down my bare face. My voice was surprisingly stable as I spoke to my mother in the next room. “Mom. I need to go to the hospital. I let Lily in. My glasses are out by the swing set.”

My next thought was that I needed to relieve myself, so I sat down on the toilet, the majority of my right arm flopping down uselessly again. My mother stood framed in the doorway, and for once I did not mind this invasion of my privacy as she helped me pull the Spider-Man boxers I was using as pajama shorts back up.

“Oh my God. You really do have to go to the emergency room!” she had exclaimed just before I stood up. I merely replied with, “Yeah.”

Another secret moment of satisfaction, apart from my initial “Wow, cool!” was that my brother looked at my arm and almost threw up—it takes a lot to get that sort of reaction out of him. I almost wish someone had gotten a picture of the way my arm was flopping. Pain aside, it looked awesome.

I soon found myself sitting in the car, after my mom helped me buckle my seatbelt, and it was on the way to the hospital that my arm finally started to hurt. When we pulled up, someone used a magazine from a waiting room as a makeshift splint—thinking back, I don’t think I’ll ever wish they didn’t have so many boring magazines again—at least they’re all useful. It still hurt, though, when the lady did that, right after I stepped out of the car. I don’t remember walking anywhere or laying down, but I do remember them setting the bone, the edges scraping together. I squeezed my parents’ hands when possible, braying like an animal—which, yes, amused me in an odd, detached way. And they gave me morphine . . . and more morphine . . . and more morphine. Unfortunately.

Six times the normal dose of morphine later and we were done. My parents looked very rattled. They were already signing forms that had to do with surgery. My throat was killing me—killing me—but I wasn’t allowed to have anything to drink, in case they had to put me under. I was very, very frustrated. That was the worst part, the lack of water. I really wanted some—I’d been crying my eyes out, screaming in pain, for the last, what, two hours? No chance of dehydration, though, what with the IV I’d had. I don’t like shots, but IVs are even worse. Yuck.

The thing running through my mind—besides “Water, oh God, please, water . . . .”—was that I’d never had surgery before. I was really scared, but the fear I felt was under a thick layer of morphine. The morphine kind of made me feel like I was Superman, like I could get through anything.

So in comes Dr. Wilcox. And, guess what? It wasn’t a case of surgery after all. All I would have to have is what they call a hanging cast. I would have to sleep sitting up, but gravity would be doing all the work. The break was an amazingly clean one, with no fragmentation at all. I was lucky. Dr. Wilcox put the cast on my arm, as I secretly mourned the shirt he was getting plaster all over, and then we left.

The youth pastor had come over—I vaguely recalled Mom and Dad furiously calling people on their cell phones earlier—and he had a card from the youth group. It was really sweet. I told him I was feeling fine, though, and I was! For the time being, at least. But later that night came the first round of puking.

I couldn’t even hold down a damn saltine cracker—do you know how lame that is? And my eyes, I couldn’t keep them open enough to watch TV. I had Mom read to me from David McCullough’s biography on John Adams—at least that was interesting. But I just kept puking. I’m pretty sure that, save for the retching, it was the most boring night of my life to date. And it was a night of not knowing anything, trying one thing, failing, trying another. I hate trial and error—especially when it seems like there isn’t any actual solution.

It might have been easier if I’d been allowed to lay down, but I couldn’t with the hanging cast getting in the way. The night was slow, sick torture. Finally, at four in the morning, the vomiting stopped. My eyes started working properly again. I watched “Napoleon Dynamite”—it had never been so good before, never, and I love that movie.

Gifts from people made me feel restless, even as I was grateful. I actually felt guilty for not being in constant pain! And using one arm was beginning to annoy me to no end. But I came up with tricks, like holding a plate you just pulled from the microwave and then shutting the door to it with your chin, and other such small but useful things I picked up. I learned how to eat a waffle with only a knife. I made abstract art with a paintbrush in my left hand, and dedicated it to my right arm. I typed one-handed. I wrote gibberish that only I could decipher. I was Superman after all.

Friends came over without asking me, though, and that was a little upsetting. I let them stay, and we watched all the Back to the Futures, and they signed my cast, but it was really annoying because I don’t hang out with them much. I’m sort of a lone wolf at times, and I tend to like it that way. A visit I did enjoy, though, was my sister driving over to our house from Driver’s Ed with the instructor who had been teaching both of us. I only got through the first two days of Driver’s Ed before the whole arm thing, so I got all $225 back, and even though I had to reschedule my ACTs until I could actually write, I’d gotten through my SAT just the day before. So, the timing really wasn’t all that bad.

A week or so after the day of my swinging accident, I got a brace instead. And I ceased to shower. Instead of just putting a garbage bag around my cast and standing beneath the spray, now I had to lean over the side of the sink in the laundry room—where my poodle bathed. I’m not garbage, and I’m certainly not a poodle. I was so grateful to be able to lay down (strictly speaking, I still wasn’t supposed to, but I did so because I already have a tough time sleeping, and having to sit up was causing the already short sleep hours to dwindle ominously), but the best part of it all was that between Mom washing only my hair, and me standing at a sink with a washcloth, I didn’t have to stand naked in front of her anymore—that was the worst part about showering with the cast.

First it was fear to take the sling off, but I started to after the yearly trip to California, which was in July, and then next came the start of physical therapy. I had a lot of apprehension about that too. Most of the stuff didn’t hurt, but when I did something that did hurt . . . I never wanted to move my arm again. The next set of fears was taking off the brace entirely, which I ended up doing during the band trip to New York, which was in November.

My arm still twinges some, as injuries are wont to do, to remind us they’re not ever going to leave us entirely (no, that would be much too kind of them), but it’s not often that it does so. Mr. Zimmerman from church brought over his chainsaw and massacred the age-old swing set. I didn’t watch. I just didn’t care anymore. When the fall came, I missed swinging, missed it not as dearly as before, but the ache was still there.

I’m not a dare devil. Hell, I won’t even jump off of a swing—at all. But, I still got hurt. That taught me that, no matter how careful you are, sometimes pain is unavoidable. Wish I could have learned it some other way. It wasn’t as if I don’t lose enough sleep, or have enough feelings of relative inadequacy to those working around me, or make my dad cry enough—because I definitely do, to all three. But, hey, at least I can hold one thought dear: In two different important photos, even though my mom said she didn’t want the brace to show, it actually ended up being very noticeable. Hey, she saw me naked. I count it as a fair trade off.

6 Slashy Icons

Wed, 05 Sep 2007 01:59:54 GMT

Self-Introductory Speech

Thu, 30 Aug 2007 05:42:20 GMT

When writing a speech (and I've only done one other), I find it's helpful to write out more than you're going to need to say. That way you don't have to remember everything. I get to have cards to look at too, and I'm just about to write those up. But here is the tale of my life.

Imagine a kid who’s in the fourth grade and hates themselves so much they don’t want to go to school in the morning so they won’t be teased. Imagine a kid in the seventh grade who skips lunch to lose weight she doesn’t have, talks about suicide, makes jokes about things that aren’t funny, and threatens other students. Imagine a kid in the ninth grade who refuses to do most of the English work because she hates herself so much she can’t write about herself, and certainly can’t bring herself to read any of it out loud to the class.

That kid was me. But it isn’t me anymore.

Sure, I still find it hard to write about myself. But I’ve accepted myself in so many different ways since elementary school.

First, I had almost no friends at all and suffered teasing from the kids around me, which scarred me more than I realize even now. Then, I used to follow people around to find a false sort of friendship, until inevitably they told me to go away. I had one sort-of friend that I threatened in anger—but we made up two years later. After that, I found friends that were friends at school, but I figured they’d never want to spend time with me out of it—we weren’t that close, I thought.

But when I went to high school, everything changed. Marching band camp started before school and I met this girl, Éowyn, who was kind of nerdy like me, and we hit it off. I went out of my way to find her and we were best friends for the next two and a half years of school. She was another step in figuring relationships out, though, because there was this band trip. After basically being responsible for her in her ability to almost always lag behind, and being made guilty by association, I started to become indifferent to spending time with her, which isn’t conducive to relationships at all. After a situation in which I was very condescending, which I apologized to her for, we discussed moving from best friends to just friends because of my urge to treat her like she was my child. Even still, I’ll never forget her.

One influencing factor in growing up so drastically was religion. I was afraid to go to junior high Sunday school at College Church, in Olathe, because there were so many kids all in the same room. I would hide out and go to both church services instead. But when I decided to start going to Gardner Church of the Nazarene with my grandma, who lives with us, I really felt welcome because it was so small. My Sunday school class only consisted of 5 people—including the teacher. The youth group started pulling me out of my shell, especially Adam the youth pastor. I went on a youth mission trip to Mexico, and that was a definite learning experience. That was just before ninth grade. I met some of the most important supporting adults in my life through my church. It’s important to have supporting adults that aren’t just your parents, I think.

As for my parents, another part of growing up was realizing that just because my parents believed something didn’t mean I had to. My junior year of high school led to a few realizations. Not only was I not a Republican just because my parents were, even though I was a Christian I didn’t have to believe that being homosexual was wrong. I’ve had a girlfriend for a year a half, or will have during September. It’s not something my parents know yet, but we’ll tell them some day. On Wednesday I’ll be 18, so maybe then, but until then I wasn’t one-hundred percent sure they wouldn’t force us to break up. My dad once told me, after he found out I felt this way, that he didn’t care who I eventually got with, man or woman, as long as there was love. I trust that he meant those words, at least for the most part, but I’m not going to take my chances.

Oddly enough, another thing that aided me in my growth through the years was Harry Potter. I started out reading a ton of books, until about the fourth grade. From then to about my junior year, I never picked up a fiction book that I wasn’t required to read for school, except for Harry Potter. But further than just the reading was Harry Potter book discussion online. I started discussing Harry Potter in a forum online only a few months into my junior year. Internet etiquette is a hard-learned thing, and it’s always hard to argue with people and still be civil. But I learned pretty quickly, and am still learning, to get along with people through the forum. I’ve met the most amazing people from different countries and continents, who think the world of me and are so very supportive. Aside from Harry Potter, we also discuss some of our lives with each other. Concerns, issues, funny stories from the week, stuff like that. It was people from the site, HPANA, along with this amazing kid who rode my bus, Brandon, who convinced me to follow my heart. So I’m gay—or at least mostly so. So what? Sexuality was the main issue of my junior year, and through Harry Potter I met supportive adults that I could talk about things I didn’t feel comfortable talking to real adults with, especially because most adults I know are from my church. To have those other adults to talk to was very important to the decisions I’ve made since the beginning of my junior year. And all thanks to Harry Potter.

So that’s my story about how I grew up, and what factors led to it. Not that I think I’m all grown up yet, though, no. I believe we aren’t ever done growing up. My very perceptive grandmother didn’t see me the first weekend I was home, but she saw me this past one and said I seemed to be even more happy and confident than ever. I believe that's true too.

My first Hardcore Attempt at some Effing Snupin

Sat, 25 Aug 2007 04:52:16 GMT

So I've been working tirelessly on this fic and I am very pleased with both the Snape and the Lupin. As it's a Snupin, they're all that counts.

Everyone seemed to be thriving since the end of the war—well, everyone except perhaps Snape. Ah yes, and Remus Lupin as well. While Snape may have been more or less the same, but perhaps a bit lacking in purpose, Remus was looking extremely haggard, and his cheeriness seemed to be forced. Harry didn’t know what to do—about Remus, of course, not about Snape. He didn’t bother thinking he could help Snape. No, Harry wasn’t quite that thick.

“Won’ be the same withou’ ya, Sev’rus,” insisted the half-giant, an image of the large head and beard filling the fireplace via Floo.

“Oh, I know. Quite clearly, I am the life of the party,” Snape said dryly.

“Well . . . I wouldn’ go that far . . . but you’re defini’ly a guest of honor!”

“Forgive me if I don’t feel honored,” he sneered. “Now, please, if you would remove your overly-large head from my fireplace . . . .”

“Professor Dumbledore would’ve wanted you to show,” said Hagrid seriously.

This was a point that Snape could not argue with and, with a brief flash of pain at the memory of the man, he grit his teeth. “Very well. I will get my cloak.”

Snape, sitting with a glass of Ogden’s, wondered if Lupin had been guilted into showing as well. He found himself taking pause at the man’s general state of disarray. Disheveled, staring blankly into nothingness, sitting all by himself . . . who was this, and why was he challenging Snape’s position as the ideal antisocial individual?

It was only now that Snape remembered the change in Nymphadora Tonks’s patronus. A werewolf. Lupin. Moony. Whatever. With a pang, he realized that seeing Lupin grieve like this was one of the last things he would ever wish to see. This clearly was not the impertinent coward of a prefect, nor was it the confident-but-much-too-happy man who insisted on using his first name. This was like looking at a wand with the core ripped out. Nymphadora Tonks had not even been that disagreeable. He had known she was quite a loss as far as people went, or whatever, but he had not realized what profound effect her passing would have on the werewolf.

He sipped more Ogden’s. He too was grieving, but he was not grieving a lover—if only he’d had one in who-knew-how-long! He was grieving the loss of a friend and mentor, but most importantly the loss of his purpose. He had worked so hard for so long that the abruptness of the Dark Lord’s end had left him feeling as if he’d lost a limb—but then again, he had. He stared down at his fake leg and grunted in disapproval. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was now somehow connected to Mad-Eye Moody, which was a thought that gave him a chill. Honestly, who wanted that?

He looked around at smiling former students and relieved-looking adults that seemed to have aged a lot. He felt old and out of place. He didn’t feel he had anything in common with anyone here, save for his ridiculous prosthetic, and he felt like he had not belonged in the Order since Dumbledore’s death—or ever, really, if you wanted to get technical.

He made a mental note to offer to make Wolfsbane for Lupin again, just to have a reason to owl him, and he was entirely surprised that the thought came to him while he was still more or less sober. All the more reason to drink, he supposed. Cheers.

Snape sent the letter in the morning. But when his owl returned from the task and he did not receive a reply the entire rest of the day, he could not help but be disgusted at the way this seemed to actually matter at all to him. It shouldn’t! What was he expecting, some declaration of teary-eyed friendship? Good God, no!

It had almost seemed, for a moment, in the farthest, most delusional corners of his mind, that he, Severus Snape, might actually have enjoyed company. Maybe he had been considering it to be like another job he could perform, saving Lupin from whatever dark spell he was under—ironic, considering how many dark spells he knew, not to mention the fact he was, in fact, not much of a savior. He glanced up at his Order of Merlin, First Class and smirked to himself all the same.

So anyway, it was the next day after he had sent the letter he now regretted, if only slightly, and it was around noon when it happened: Snape was surprised to find himself face to face with Remus J. Lupin. Lupin looked nervous and a bit shamed. Snape had no idea why, and doubted the man really knew the answer himself. “Would you like to take a seat?” he offered the man, looking up from the text he had been reading.

Remus nodded slowly. He cleared his throat and looked thoughtful, but it wasn’t until he received an eyebrow raise from Snape that he blurted out, “Thanks for your offer, it sounds great.” His tone was still a bit lackluster, and his voice was hoarse—probably from lack of use.

“Who has been making the potion for you?” he asked with a bit of curiosity.

“No one has!” said Remus suddenly, and Snape was stunned. “Not many can, obviously,” he said, his hoarse voice sounding a bit annoyed, “though I find it rather odd you would offer to help me, now that Dumbledore is gone.”

“Do not mention Dumbledore in my residence,” said Snape coldly, eying him. He did not appreciate being made out to be stupid in his own house, and especially did not appreciate the werewolf mentioning the man he had been forced to kill.

Remus made a sort of bow. “Sorry. Anyway . . . . The next full moon is—”

Snape snorted derisively. “Do you believe me completely incompetent as a potioneer? I know precisely when the next full moon is, thank you. If I had not had enough time before the next one to brew, you would not have received my owl at all.”

Remus stared at him blankly.

“Well,” said Snape, a bit uncomfortable, “that is all. You may go.”

Remus took on a thoughtful expression and reached into his pocket as he neared the fire. In a pinch and throw of Floo powder, he was back where he belonged. Snape was once more uncertain why he’d made the letter in the first place, or even conceived the thought process that had borne it. Lupin was not lonely, or at least he hadn’t acted like it. He had been snarky and rude. Finally a Lupin who acted without that dreaded calm, but, really, did he have to be such a child about it? Maybe he really was trying to steal Snape’s title as the least sociable.

Bastard.

That night Snape had a nightmare. The bad part wasn’t that Lupin was a horrible, blood-thirsty werewolf. It was that he was eating himself. It was a rather disturbing image to see. He’d started with the paws, and then the legs, and part of his side. Then he had turned back into a man and bled to death. Snape had been spooked, and turned on the electric light with a wave of his hand. He sighed. Lupin was only human. He had just been surprised to hear him angry at him.

It wasn’t that Snape didn’t care at all, it was usually that he didn’t care enough. But he was beginning to. He shuddered as he pictured the hollow eyes of the limbless Lupin, the man lying there, lightly garnished with teeth and claw marks and served in a puddle of his own blood. Snape blanched. He almost felt like apologizing . . . almost. The Wolfsbane should speak for itself, really, he reasoned with himself.

When he slept again, he did not have another nightmare, thankfully.

Everything seemed to include werewolves—why were they suddenly so interesting to everybody? People had no taste, honestly. Werewolf laws, possible werewolf cures. He kept thinking of Lupin as he read these things. The Wolfsbane was half-finished already and was on a days-long simmer. He pointedly ignored the fact that his hand was writing it, that both were folding it up, that his owl was flying away. He did not need to know that he had sent Lupin this second letter. “Shouldn’t have snapped.” He had not even signed it, but it was obvious enough, after the first letter. Plus, Snape thought with a grim smile, Lupin probably had not had much other conversation.

“Maybe you do care.” That was the response he received. He did not respond to this ridiculousness. Instead, he tucked the note away in a drawer.

He looked at it later.

He would never let on how much it meant to see those words. They were half-joking, yes, teasing. But to have someone put into writing that Severus Snape cared about anything besides himself or the Dark Lord was almost enough to bring a tear to his eye. Despite what others may have thought, in the privacy of his rooms he occasionally let his melancholy wash over him in the form of a good cry. Snivellus had not been his cruelly-made nickname for no reason.

Pushing the werewolf’s reply to the back of his mind was easy enough, and he finished the Wolfsbane with the impeccable timing he was known for. He had avoided thinking of Lupin more than necessary and Flooed to the man’s flat very carefully with a covered goblet when the time arrived. Lupin was not in the sitting room, but wards must have alerted him of Snape’s arrival, as he opened the door to a small bedroom and slinked out, hair sleep-tousled and eyes heavy. “’Lo, Severus.”

“Lupin.” He looked around at the shabby flat for a moment in silence.

“Going to tell me how pathetically poor, I am, Severus?” he said in a sleep-roughened voice.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Obviously your eyes were not open when you came to see me. Otherwise, your werewolf eyesight would not have failed you so. My house is no penthouse suite. So, Lupin,” he said carefully, “am I your first visitor?”

“Well,” he said with a wry smile, “Harry tried to talk to me. I wasn’t in the mood, so I sent him back home.”

“Nosey.”

“And you’re not?” said Lupin dully.

“What?! I most certainly am not. I had only a healthy curiosity as a child and if your pathetic friends had not attacked me with rude ‘justifications’ such as that I was ‘nosey,’ you would not have thought that I was so at all.”

“Give it a rest, Snape.” It was the first time in a long while that he had called Snape by his surname. “Let them rest in peace. I paid attention to you well enough in school, and while they did make some outrageous claims, you are now and have always been a nosey git.”

“You know nothing about me!” Snape said dangerously, holding out the goblet.

Remus drank it down, staring evenly at Snape the whole time.

“I was even so kind,” said Snape, “as to bring your goblet. I am very generous, looking out for those who do not ‘suffer’ your ‘affliction.’ No one wants to drink from a goblet that a werewolf has already made use of.” This was a lie. He had no idea which goblet or goblets of his Lupin had used in the past.

Remus Lupin continued to eye him levelly as he said, “Thank you, Snape.”

“Not at all, Lupin,” he said silkily, plucking the goblet back out of the man’s grasp. He Flooed back smugly, but inside he felt a bit bad he had said anything to Lupin to bring up his . . . condition.

He still—still!—had reporters coming up to the house, his shabby, Muggle home. Suddenly the world’s attitude toward him had changed, and he was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with it. He did not like social change, especially when it was so drastic and so personal. He set up a magical fence surrounding the house that no one with either a camera or a Quick-Quotes Quill should have been able to penetrate. So far, it had worked perfectly. They still caught pictures of him if he stepped outside the house, or merely took pictures of the house itself, but that did not matter much.

While he missed being able to do something in order to elude such boredom, he did not miss having to do something to earn a living. But here it was again. He had received some spoils, yes, but to live off the money of other Death Eaters? The thought, frankly, upset him a little.

He dreaded applying for something, lest he be accepted right away for his new-found fame. “Fame is a fickle friend,” Lockhart had said. If only it actually was, thought Snape. He was afraid his fame was going to stick to him for a good while. He could not be held responsible for his actions if he got another piece of fan mail forwarded to him from the school. He had done what he had had to do! Could people not just leave it at that? Apparently, no. He hated Witch Weekly more than ever.

Ironic, in his aversion to fame, that he would consider a job at the Prophet, he supposed. He rather liked quidditch, but not as more than a spectator or a referee, so that department of the Ministry was out. Not the Department of Mysteries, no, or Transportation, or the department dealing with animals—definitely not. Magical Law Enforcement didn’t seem too bad, but somehow he felt he would not be accepted in the court system after being a Death Eater, no matter how many times he had “saved” the wizarding world. International Cooperation did not sound too awful, really, but he supposed he was not a very good negotiator when it came to dealing with anything less than a Dark Lord. That left one branch only, the Department of Magical Catastrophes. With his skill in curses and counter-curses, that may not be too bad of an option.

Then again, who said it had to be a Ministry job? He wasn’t going back to Hogwarts, he didn’t think, and he wasn’t sure he was up to having a Ministry job after all . . . so what in the world was he going to do with himself? He thought back to the possibility of becoming a columnist. Not a bad idea, if he truly considered it. All in all, he figured he’d have to get over his aversion to returning to the workplace—he always knew there would be the unfortunate possibility that he might actually survive.

He had the sudden picture of himself as an auror and nearly gagged. Maybe he’d try his hand at being a curse-breaker, like the eldest Weasley boy? He might be rather good at it. Maybe, he smirked to himself, he’d become a part of the Society for the Tolerance of Vampires—he wouldn’t, really, but it was an amusing image, what with his own vampiric qualities. Maybe, he thought with an even wider smirk, he’d create his own line of hair potions—Lockhart’s old dream. He thought of Lockhart rather a lot. If nothing else, the man had been quite amusing.

Speaking of Lockhart, maybe he could work at Mungo’s. Would people let him near the place, after having been a murderer? He had sufficient knowledge of the human body and all its systems, could identify the effects of many different poisons, had a vast knowledge of pharmaceuticals and such. He even knew much of the human mind. Maybe he could become a mediwizard—he was astonished the thought had never come to him before. Then again, he realized with a blanch, lime green was not really his color.

But the next day, ignoring his aversion to the uniform, he applied for a job at Mungo’s. Most potions masters had what it took to pass the intense questioning and examinations required to become a Healer. Snape passed with flying colors—and, unfortunately, the colors were all lime green. But even so, he returned home and awaited the day they would put him to work for the first time as a mediwizard.

The next month, he did not disturb Lupin, not seeing him in the main room, and merely placed the steaming goblet on the small table with a note. “Here’s your goblet.”

When Remus Lupin saw the still-steaming goblet of potion, he watched it for a disconcertingly long moment. And then he waved his wand just over the goblet’s rim and said, “Evanesco.”

He appreciated that Snape had done this for him, really he did. But he needed to let himself experience the misery of being out of control and savage. He knew he had been punishing himself for months while he had no one to brew him Wolfsbane. Why should he not punish himself? He deserved it. Why had he, a werewolf, and a piss-poor one at that, survived when Sirius and Tonks had both left him? And in the last war it had been Lily and James. His closest friends were teenagers now. That was pathetic.

After a meager supper, he got ready for the old ritual. Strip down, lie on the floor, shackle your hands to the floor like some animal in the circus. He looked pointedly away from his body as he bared it. He did not care to see himself. He knew he was getting thinner, and somehow it made all his scars more pronounced. He would lay there all night, furious, while denying himself relief from his longing to maim. It was his penance. He despised himself, and he didn’t really know why.

The clink of metal as he fastened the one, and then he gasped. A pained noise escaped him and the change in his bone and muscle made him collapse as if he’d been tazed. He writhed on the floor, moaning and crying out as his body rearranged itself gruesomely. The thought he tried to hang on to was that he had not fastened the second shackle. In that moment, he hated himself more than ever for being so stupid.

Sometimes Harry came to visit him the day after the full moon. That was when he had come the last time, at least. Luckily for Remus, that was the case this time as well. After Harry had thrown up his breakfast, he’d Flooed right to the emergency Mungo’s entrance. He and Severus Snape, of all people, had stared at each other for a moment as Harry floated both the naked, bleeding, one-armed human and the decidedly wolfish paw, wrist, and forearm in the air. The werewolf had obviously chewed its arm right off. Snape looked ill, but he did not falter in his step or even let his hand shake.

“Good work, Potter,” he murmured absently, looking over the werewolf’s extensive, self-inflicted injuries. “Now, go home.”

“It was in a shackle in R-Remus’s bedroom,” said Harry, pointedly not looking at the floating limb.

“Why would he need to be shackled?” Snape said suddenly, staring at the body floating in the air. He motioned for Harry to follow as he moved up the stairs to the first floor.

“Oh, I don’t know, because he’s a werewolf.”

“I brewed him Wolfsbane,” said Snape, looking a bit like a lost child. He stared at the body as he concentrated on levitating it, blood dripping.

Harry bit back a reply of, “Obviously not very well.” It wasn’t like Snape wasn’t already thinking it. Harry helped make sure the body and arm remained floating until they could put Remus down on the bed in the next room.

“Leave!” said Healer Snape, and Harry did not object.

It was too like Snape’s dream. Healer Jamison entered, taking in the body’s injuries. Snape blankly watched as she started to work, and then said he was returning to watch the emergency Floo area again. He had Healer Clearwater take his place. He could not work on Remus J. Lupin.

He was torn between feeling incredibly guilty, unworthy of a job as a Healer of all things when all he could do was apparently kill and destroy, between that and feeling an all-consuming rage at Lupin for not taking the potion. Unobtrusively, he Flooed to Lupin’s to find that the goblet was indeed empty. Fighting an impulse to retch himself, he leaned in and inspected the inside, surprised to see no residue. Relief washed over him. Evanesco? How unimaginative.

He returned and, feeling better, entered the room he’d left Lupin in and set to work trying to transform the hand. He sent in a call for an expert on working with werewolves, but he didn’t know what to do either. Eventually they had to settle for making a prosthetic arm for Remus, and Snape realized with a start that now they had even more in common than just anti-social behavior.

People came to visit Lupin, and Snape noticed that when he wasn’t pretending to be alright, he was pretending to be asleep. Finally, he felt it was time to confront him about what he had done.

“You’re awake, Lupin.”

Remus looked up warily.

“Why didn’t you take the Wolfsbane?” he asked him. “And don’t brush it off—I, of all people, deserve some answers. We may not be close, but that is my work we are talking about. I spent the better part of a month brewing a volatile potion in my bedroom, and I would appreciate it if you would tell me what exactly you thought you were doing when you vanished it straight out of the goblet.”

Lupin sighed, and seemed to be collecting his thoughts. “Well . . . I . . . .”

“You what?”

“I . . . don’t know.”

“You do not know why it is that you rejected the only thing keeping you from maiming yourself. How wonderful.”

“Leave me alone,” said Lupin, rolling over on to his side, away from Snape.

“You’re just as insane as your old boyfriend,” he said, not impressed that he was being shunned by his own patient.

“Are you always going to be jealous of Sirius?” Remus sneered right back, turning to look at him again. “We’ve never been together. Unlike you, I’ve actually had a friend in my lifetime—one who didn’t use me as a new Death Eater recruit!”

He looked stricken. For a moment, he said nothing. And then his expression seemed to soften. “You hated yourself, or something, didn’t you? It simply makes no sense you would throw away your chance to think rationally unless you were tired of being in your own mind.”

“Mm,” Remus said noncommittally.

But that was all the confirmation Snape needed. “Why would you, of all people, hate yourself?” he asked.

“I’m a werewolf.” Remus gestured to the arm that was on a table on the other side of the room.

“Clearly. And therefore you should try to hang on to the human part of yourself, correct?”

“What’s the use? Have you seen me?”

“What?” he said, trying to sound uninterested.

“I’m falling apart. Tonks was the only person who has ever truly loved me, and she’s gone. Just . . . just leave me alone,” he moaned, and turned away once again. Snape looked extremely surprised by this answer. Coming from perfect, cheery Remus Lupin? Was the world playing some elaborate and ironic trick on him? Perhaps it was. Either way, he softly slipped out of the room to find someone else to attend to.

Very carefully, he wrote “Remus” in a handwriting that was as unlike his own as he could make it while still looking nice. He wrote this on the tag of the velvety box. He had sneered at the questioning look he got from the woman behind the counter at Honeydukes. It was none of her business. He walked into the hospital that morning, and headed up to Remus’s room. “Not so unloved after all,” he scowled.

Remus’s eyes opened blearily and he rubbed at them with his good hand. “What?”

“You have a gift from the front desk. Who is it from?” he asked, trying to sound both curious and sarcastic at the same time, as if he really didn’t know. He handed the square box to Lupin.

Remus stared at the box. His hand shook a bit as he held it. It must be from Harry, he reasoned. He looked inside the tag and saw only “Remus”. “It doesn’t say,” he said softly, opening the lid and inhaling the scent of the chocolate. It certainly wasn’t any writing that he recognized, he didn’t think.

Snape raised an eyebrow, but inside he was quite relieved. Lupin liked the gift. “A ‘secret admirer,’” he snarled. “How cliché.”

Remus nodded slowly in reply. Cliché, but nice. He placed the box on his lap and reached for a chocolate, closing his eyes as he let the small bite he took melt inside his mouth languorously. Snape raised an eyebrow for real this time. Apparently that was precisely the thing to get Remus Lupin. Lucky him.

It was an entire week of spells and potions later that Remus was able to go home. Molly Weasley had come by and scrubbed out the blood and thrown the shackles out. “Won’t be pulling a stunt like that again on our watch, will he, dear?”

“Nope,” said Harry, sending her a small smile.

It was also Molly who planned the surprise “Welcome Home, Remus” party. The party was a success, even though Remus secretly wished Snape had attended. Snape had worked tirelessly on his body after his ridiculous accident, after all. Sneering the whole time, Remus recalled fondly, especially when he’d brought him that gift from the secret admirer.

Remus was not entirely free of Mungo’s yet, no, he still had to return for thrice-weekly sessions so he could learn to use his new arm properly. It was sleek and humanoid—or at least it was humanoid almost all of the time. He was told it would change with him at the full moon. He was very grateful for that aspect of it. It wouldn’t grow fur, but it would look like the leg of a wooden wolf, rubber pads and metal claws and all.

Remus made a goal of finding out who had sent the chocolates. Dully, his heart would beat when he thought of it, a lazy sort of excitement would come over him. Could another courtship really be in order? And, if it was, did he deserve it? Most of the Order seemed to think so. Then again, most of the Order probably thought even Snape deserved some lovin’. Remus berated himself for looking down on a colleague so. But it wasn’t like Snape went out of his way to make himself attractive—then again, lately, neither had Remus. Neither man was much into parties anymore, both were a little cranky, both kept their problems to themselves . . . he was becoming more and more like Snape with every minute. Why didn’t that bother him more? And, why did it bother him so much?

On his next prescribed venture into Mungo’s he asked the desk clerk, “Do you remember getting a box of chocolates for a Remus Lupin?” He felt a bit stupid asking.

“No,” said the man in reply. Remus felt a bit disappointed as he nodded and thanked him for his time.

He relayed his finding to Snape. “Did the man say anything about the person who brought it before?”

“Lupin,” said Snape seriously. “I know who gave it to you, but they wish to remain anonymous. Isn’t it enough someone cared?” he blanched saying the word “cared”.

“Of course it isn’t enough!” said Remus. “Just because you’ve never . . . sorry. Just tell me, Snape. Tell me who it was.”

“You’re better off not knowing.”

“How can you say that?!”

For the next couple weeks, Remus would not let the issue die. He was just so close to knowing . . . .

“Fine! If you promise you will stop bothering me about it, I will tell you who brought it in!”

“Yes, yes, tell me, Snape!” he said after a moment.

Snape sighed. “I did—do not be upset, I just wanted to make you think someone out there may still care for you. But when you would not let it go, I knew I’d gone too far. Lupin?”

“You . . . Slytherin!” sputtered Lupin, looking shell-shocked. All of his hopes for a future with someone, whoever it had been, had been dashed like ashes in the wind.

Severus gave a shrug.

“No,” said Remus cruelly, clearly still stinging from the revelation, “I bet you did it because you fancy me. Do you fancy me, Snape?” he snarled like a caged wolf. “Don’t bother. Sirius would be a better lay any day.”

“Maybe, if you’re a necrophiliac.”

“What?!” Lupin punched him squarely across the face—using his new arm. It sent Snape reeling and he nearly fell backward.

“Congratulations,” said Snape coolly, righting himself. “Seems your use of the new arm is improving.”

“Yeah, well if you had your way, I’d still be helpless in a bed at Mungo’s. Maybe you’ve already had your way with me and I just don’t remember.”

“You swine!” Snape said, looking completely stunned, possibly more so than Lupin had appeared upon finding out the real origin of the chocolates. His hands went to Remus’s throat and began choking him.

“Death Eater!” choked Remus, a sadistic glint in his eye. “Go on . . . do it, then.”

“Stop it!” Snape snarled, and shoved Remus away from him, sending him sprawling. “You worthless shit.” He leered, looming over the body strewn across the ground, “I worked tirelessly on you after you tried to transform without the help you had accepted from me. I would never r-rape someone unless it was on orders I could not deny,” he said, shaking. “I cannot believe you. I hope you die now so that you can shag Black in the afterlife. Did you know that I had not given up on that arm of yours? We are still trying to save it.” He reached down and lifted his pant leg a bit, displaying a wooden ankle. “I wanted to spare someone the loss of a limb. You have gravely misjudged me. You have half an hour to get out of my house and never return.”

Back at his own home, Remus let the naughty guilt wash over him. Severus had only been trying to pull him out of his rut—and, in fact, it had worked! And how does Remus respond? By bringing Sirius—of all people—into things so he can pettily put down Snape’s skills in bed, then punching him, and then accusing him of rape and calling him a Death Eater. No wonder no one had really wanted to send him chocolates. He laid down, rolled over, and fell into an uneasy sleep.

“I’d like to apologize.” Remus’s handwriting.

“If only I cared.” Snape’s.

“But you do. Come to my house.”

A single word. “No.”

“We’ll talk when you bring the Wolfsbane, then.”

“Have more accusations planned?”

“The things I said were horrible.”

“Your capacity for ‘too little, too late’ astounds me.”

“I astound myself.”

“We will talk when you get your Wolfsbane, which you will drink.”

Remus felt relieved. He didn’t even mind the image of Snape looming over him superiorly as he drank from ‘his’ goblet. Maybe what he needed was someone to tell him what was what, to be treated like the brat he was for once. Perhaps he didn’t get enough reproach. Lucky for him Snape gave the stuff out like Saint Nicholas at Christmas time.

So Snape did bring the Wolfsbane, and he watched Remus drink it down. “Good boy,” he said, sardonic as ever.

“You know, I’ve never really slept with Sirius,” Remus blurted out, and then winced.

“Please,” said Snape, raising a hand, “I could do without the mental scarring.”

“Sorry,” said Remus, flushing a little. “Anyway . . . what I meant to say is that I really had no business getting so angry. I let words fly. I think it just shocked me that I really didn’t have anyone after all. I realize that you were trying to be nice . . . odd sentiment, no?” he gave a nervous laugh. “Anyway . . . there are a number of things I shouldn’t have said.”

“No doubt.” He crossed his arms and his lip curled, but he was clearly listening.

“I know you’re not a Death Eater anymore, and you’ve never truly been the type.” Snape scoffed here and Remus quirked his lip. “Well you know what I mean. You’re not a rapist, as far as I can tell, not of your own accord at least. Plus, my arse feels fine.” He flushed again. Oh bloody, bloody hell. “Well, you know what I mean.”

Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Er . . . also, I’m sorry I hit you. I was just upset. I figured I was getting my hopes up, and that’s something I try not to do. But just this once . . . .” He sighed. “Anyway, Snape . . . I’m very sorry.”

Snape gathered up the goblet. “What happened to calling me Severus?” Then he moved into the fire and Flooed away.

“Er . . . bye, Severus,” Remus called to the empty room.

Is everyone else 5'9"? Harry Potter: food style, Finished with Pottersues marriage law fic challenge

Wed, 15 Aug 2007 03:47:28 GMT

So Whitney and Kelli, roommates, are 5'9" and so is even John? Kate is, obviously. John said something hilarious: How tall is he? 69. That's just hot. It almost makes me want to be 5'9" too!

Rim came at 3 am two nights ago. She's really nice, so are Kelli and Whitney.

From a HPANA post of mine today:

AHAHAHA! I just typed "Sorceror's Scone." That is amazing.

Sorceror's Scone, Chili of Secrets, Prisoner of Muffin Man, Goblet of Fries, the Butter of the Peanuts, the Half-Baked Pie, and the Dead Marshmallows (or at least I would hope they're dead).

I finished my pottersuesmarriage law fic. It's a Snarry. The law is that the two greatest war heroes have to marry to keep their recognition and compensation from the Ministry. I can't wait for September 1st!

Classes start tomorrow!

Dude, I had to post this because I actually know akinaria.

"Jagged" by me, "Snape Mourns" by BelovedLigeia

Sat, 04 Aug 2007 18:06:52 GMT

Jagged

“Sev’rus,” called the man, blubbering all over himself. He knocked at the door, but his size made the whole thing rattle.

Severus started. Yawning, he hurried to the door and unlocked it with a wave of his hand. There stood Rubeus Hagrid, crying. Admittedly, Hagrid crying in itself was not a rare occurrence, but to come to Snape’s quarters, above the entire rest of the school? It had to be an Order thing. He stared up at the man. He realized it probably would have been nice to let him into his rooms, but he fully intended on getting back to sleep after hearing whatever it was Hagrid had to say—if he would ever out with it. At this point, it seemed a likely possibility that he may just continue crying for all eternity and Snape would never get any sleep.

“L-Lily and James, Severus!”

Snape had been in the middle of stifling a yawn when he said this, but now immediately seemed to come to his usual alertness. He stared at the half-giant. “They’re . . . dead.”

“Yes! Oh Sev’rus!” He threw his large arms around the professor. Snape slunk out of his grasp slowly and pushed the door closed, ill-caring what the half-giant thought. Let him find someone else to comfort him. Salazar knew there were plenty more willing than he.

Snape paced the main room of his quarters, looking half-mad in his night shirt in the wee hours of the morning, lapping his plain couch to no end. Finally he did leave the room, grabbing his wand so that he might unlock his new classroom.

If he did it quietly . . . no one would be the wiser until the morning. He stood and leafed through the stores. Of course there were all sorts of venoms, from plants and animals alike, but that was a bit boring, wasn’t it? If he actually mixed up a poison that would be sure to work, that might give someone time to find him and tell him he was an important part of the wizarding world that would be missed. He laughed out loud at this thought, sounding perhaps a bit unbalanced—which was more or less true.

He put out the fire he’d just lit under the cauldron and sat down at one of the student desks. He fought back some more hysterical laughter. He ran a hand over his face, taking a deep breath. Alright. He got up and closed the stores, levitating the cauldron over to the stone gargoyle sink. However, he hesitated before he dumped out the water. Giving himself a mental shake, he gritted his teeth. Committing himself to pour the water out this time, he surprised himself with a new surge of emotion, and the cauldron flew at the stone wall, splattering the stone with lukewarm water.

He put his wand down on a desk for safety, and grasped the cauldron which had now fallen to the floor with a loud clank. He replaced the cauldron in a cabinet and ran a hand over his oily black hair. Okay. Breathe. He needed to get out of this room. He would be able to think more clearly in the morning.

He knew death would be futile, as futile as life always had been and more. Well—why? Why wouldn’t it be better than living?

He would never see Lily again. It wasn’t like they had spoken in a good few years, but he would never see Lily again. He would never see Lily again.

He would never see Lily again.

He heard the tinkle of breaking glass and stared blankly at the shelf of ingredients nearest him. He stared at the manticore venom, a perfect golden amber as it clung to shards of sharp glass, glass sharp enough to easily cut flesh. Easily. How easily? With a wandless Summoning Charm, he found a nice-sized hunk of glass was dripping with the stuff.

“It was an accident,” he pictured someone saying the next morning. “He cut himself.”

“An accident,” he murmured. Just like it was an accident that Lily had been targeted in the first place, an accident he had overheard, an accident she was dead. And now it would be an accident that he was dead on the floor of his new classroom. He smirked to himself, but it didn’t reach the fear-laced coldness of his eyes.

Lily would never have to know how weak he was. Lily, who had red hair like no one else’s, and the most peculiar green eyes that her new son supposedly shared in. Eyes were, however, windows to the soul, and he’d be damned if windows could be hereditary. He did not have windows to his father’s soul, nor to his mother’s. He had his own. Windows to abandoned shops, houses in old ghost towns. He owned broken windows in front of which children had played baseball a little too roughly, had cracked with stones. He didn’t have windows, just endless voids. He’d often been called blind to the world around him. It wasn’t his fault that the building contractors of his body had forgotten to add the windows. Not his fault at all.

“Get off my floors,” said Dumbledore. He looked rather annoyed at the sight in front of him, and Severus vaguely wondered for just how long the man had been there. He turned to look at him and with a neutral expression, he slit at the back of his hand. Wincing, he felt it start to work with a small moan of pain.

Dumbledore’s expression grew more intense in his outrage. “If that’s the way it’s going to be, Severus, keep in mind that the reason the venom will not have killed you is your own fault. You’ve got no one but yourself to blame for living. Congratulations for your suberb work in antidotes. Get up.”

Snape dropped the jagged piece he’d used to cut himself and watched the pile of venom-covered glass with longing as Dumbledore pulled him bodily to the hospital wing.

belovedligeia strikes again!

"Caught", Picture by BelovedLigeia, story by me

Fri, 03 Aug 2007 18:03:44 GMT

Lovely picture by belovedligeia! It's amazing! It's sensational! It's Snape with a hand down his pants.

She, in turn, made me write something. I hope it lives up to the awesomeness of such a picture! I call it PG-13. Hopefully it's not R (I totally cannot tell usually).

Caught

“It’s such a beautiful day out, isn’t it?” she said with a wistful sigh, spotting him.

“It really is,” he admitted, looking around. “Hey, Lily.”

“Hmm?”

“Can I have another picture of you?”

“What happened to the last one, Sev?” she asked him.

“It . . . got dirty.”

“Okay. Well, be more careful next time. I’ll get my bag.”

He just nodded in reply, following her as they went to find it. She handed him a replacement, though it wasn’t the same pose as the last. “Thanks,” he said, and made a show of carefully pocketing it.

“I’ll miss seeing you over the summer, Sev,” she said.

“You’ll write me?” he asked her, staring intently into her face.

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Good.”

This picture, he thought, was even greater than the last. It was a hot summer day and he’d lazed around all day. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants that didn’t quite reach his ankles, and he hadn’t bothered with a shirt. About a week ago he had received his first letter back from Lily. She was perhaps a bit forgetful. Either that or she did not care to speak to him as much as he to her—he shook these thoughts off immediately. Or, most likely, she was probably just busy, being out on vacation and all. Not having her here was a bit of a drag.

Well, there was no sign of another letter. He’d picked up her picture—until then, it had been placed on his wall with a sticking charm, which had made the wall look sadly pathetic in comparison to such young, uplifting beauty—and stared at it for a moment as if mesmerized. He had just plucked it from the wall and had not returned to his seat on the bed.

“I . . . love you, Lily,” he whispered to the picture. The picture smiled and laughed back. This reaction touched him deep in his heart. It was almost as if Lily herself had accepted his affection. Before he could even stop himself, he slid a hand to the front of his pants’ wasteline. He’d have to be more careful this time, like he’d promised.

The Lily in the picture grinned at him in her unknowing life of picturedom. She had a book in her hand, sitting in the perfect shade of a large tree, and she looked so warm and inviting. That’s what he loved about her, how she seemed to accept him so well, so easily. He slid a hand into the sweatpants, and into his greying briefs. He imagined Lily, with her perfect ember-like head of hair and her eyes like emeralds fit for Slytherin, and he imagined that it was, even, perhaps her hand and not merely his at all that was against him.

He held back a gentle moan. It wasn’t hard to imagine such things with this face in front of him, this lovely teenaged face, above breasts the perfect size, her body all legs as she sat sprawled on the soft, green grass. He was so lost in what he was doing, the fantasy of it all. Well, he was lost in it until the door to his room opened.

Severus looked back over his shoulder in shock, staring at the intruder. “MUM!” he cried, dropping the picture on the floor as he pulled his hand from his pants, face reddening at record speed. “Get . . . get out!” he sputtered.

Startled, Eileen slammed the door quickly, making a pained sort of noise. “Er . . . dinner is on the table . . . .”

“Go away!” he cried out, though he didn’t have to worry. She was making her way back to the kitchen as fast as possible.

And later when Eileen was tidying up, she saw the picture on her son’s wall. She failed to repress a shudder, and thought, Next time he’s in his room with the door closed, I knock.

You are a great friend and I love working with you! We make an unbeatable team. ^__~

Laptop, RPing, Conoe Trip, Teeth and Nose, ESU, DH.

Sun, 29 Jul 2007 22:33:57 GMT

I got my new laptop! Yayness, right? On it right now. In fact I haven't really been on my regular one, but I'll need to e-mail me some crucial documents (*cough cough* fan fics) and files (*cough cough* music). It's the awesomeness.

Been RPing. Laura Madley's (the 2nd marauder's ride, used to be called WHS) Jacob and Misery are becoming one of my favorite RPed couple ever. They not only have totally fulfilling, great sex, they had a time where they split up abruptly and practically could not live without the other!
Second on the list of favorite pairings is definitely Xhaiden and Reuben. They are getting so great. My favorite line so far is Bitty writing for Reuben about the fact Xhaiden just said he also had his merman scales on his thighs. "He wanted to see." So perfect.
Laura and Aminian are adorable as ever, of course, and they're engaged! Carl is just about to meet Aminian, and dig this: he actually likes the way Aminian dresses. Bradley Madley (Laura's cousin who had lived with her since he was 10 and his mother died) might take a while to get used to Aminian, but I'm sure he'll love him!
Kate missed marauder RPing so we made http://maraudersetc2.proboards83.com and I am Snape and Davey Gudgeon. Davey actually flirted with Peter of all people. Davey rocks, though he dislikes Muggles. Snape and Sirius are just getting good, in the beginning of their first thread. I feel her Sirius hasn't changed a bit. I admire that. My Snape, on the other hand, keeps getting better with my better understanding of Snape himself. Even his fans don't have him pinned.

We're having a Canoe Trip, the youth group, from the 3-5th. It'll be tons of fun. Bitty and Dillon are going too, just not Sam. EDIT: Actually, I'm not going. I'm letting my other sister go instead. She found out she was recovered in time, they weren't sure she would be, but by now there wouldn't have been enough canoes. I was secretly dreading the trip anyway. My parents called me selfless (I'm usually a brat at home, if not anywhere else . . . ha!) and my sister gave me a hug -- that's like the first time in 8 years! I went upstairs to "shower" so I could cry (mainly out of relief).

Sam just had sinus surgery I think for her deviated septum. I had my wisdom teeth out. My mouth is almost back to normal now, I had it done Tuesday morning.

Excited about college, but also nervous!

SPOILERS LIE WITHIN, BEWARE!

Snape was good! OMG yes! He was indeed the hero I was ridiculed for saying he was! I felt he got a bit gipped on outward recognition, even with Harry saying he was never Voldemort's man to the Dark Lord himself. I'm very grateful, very grateful for the Snape chapter. It kicks total ass like you don't even know!

I just feel such vindication.

Except I'm not sure I like my nickname of Lily anymore. I feel she gave up on Snape too soon, like she didn't truly care about him at all. Dumbledore was a bit of an asshole in that chapter too, but I like him more for it. As for me, I hope I'd stick closer to Snape to try and make him see the error of spending too much time with those goons he associated with by house. I wish she would have been a Slytherin. Screw that Sorting Hat.

^This, of course, is none other than the Gryffindor sword and Snape's doe patronus. That blue behind the ice is an abstract representation of snow-covered trees. Im proud of them especially.

DVR to DVD, "The Road to El Dorado", Talking to Bitty, KATE!

Fri, 20 Jul 2007 09:07:16 GMT

Been turning DVRed things to DVD including the one I did today which had 3 episodes of PokeMoN: Diamond & Pearl (the 1st two of the series and my favorite so far which includes Jessie winning a PokeMoN contest with Ash's Aipom after she saves its life without knowing it's his), one episode of The Daily Show where they talk about Dick Cheney saying he's not a member of the Executive Branch, and "The Road to El Dorado".

"The Road to El Dorado" doesn't get the attention it deserves. It's very, very entertaining, the music is great to listen to, and the animation is beautiful. You'll see complaints that it "has no ending," but I think it has a perfect ending! And while at the end of the first time I saw it I thought Chel was sort of messing up things between the two men, I realized this time that they can all make a 3-person relationship work. Chel is the bridge between the men's personalities. First of all, when you watch it, you need to realize that most viewers accept the notion that Tulio and Miguel have done it with each other a few times. Some quotes can portray this almost as well as the movie itself, like this:

Chief: You know, Lord Miguel . . . if you wish to stay, you only need to say so.
Miguel: You mean . . . forever?
Chief: Of course!
Miguel: . . . Ugh, no, I can't, I have to go back with Tulio. We're- . . . we're partners.
Chief: (sounding a bit suggestive) Big plans in the other world, huh?
Miguel: (smiles and nods sadly)

And once you've accepted their relationship (which seems to be an on-and-off thing), since I'm sure they're both bi, it would work out very nicely with Chel if they all could learn to share.

Tulio (middle) is a pessimistic and intelligent worrywart with a deep lust for gold. Miguel (left) is an extremely optimistic lover of adventure who Tulio says doesn't have one of the little voices in your head that tells you when to quit while you're ahead. Chel just wants to get out of El Dorado; she loves cons and adventure, and doesn't bat an eye at having to steal to get what she wants.

A couple quotes to show the extremeness of their personalities:

Tulio: Miguel, how are we gonna keep this up for three days?
Miguel: You worry too much.
Tulio: No! I worry exactly the right amount! You can NEVER worry too much! We just have to lie low.
Miguel: *Beautiful music flourishes in the background* But Tulio, this place is amazing! I mean I wonder what's-
Tulio: NO! *Music stops with a record player screech* DON'T EVEN MOVE!
Miguel: Heh, Tulio-
Tulio: *points* You're moving!
Miguel: A little, but-
Tulio: HEY, HEY, HEY!
Miguel: Come on-
Tulio: Nyuh uh!
Miguel: But-
Tulio: Stay!
Miguel: *Steps*
Tulio: GRRRR!!
Miguel: I just-
Tulio: Just... stand there!
Miguel: *Balancing on one leg* For three days?!?! *falls over*
Tulio: YES! Exactly! For three days! Don't even breathe! All right?
Miguel: *Brushes himself off* All right. We lie low.
Tulio: Nuh uh uh! *places hand over heart* Promise?
Miguel: *muttering* Yeah, yeah, yeah, all right, all right, all right . . . .
(later)
(Tulio catches Miguel playing ball with some kids)
Tulio: WHAT do you THINK you're DOING?!?!
Miguel: (chuckles) Lying low!

Cortes: My crew was chosen as carefully as the Disciples of Christ, and I will not tolerate stowaways. You will be flogged. And when we put in to Cuba to resupply, God willing, you will be flogged some more. And then enslaved on the sugar plantations for the rest of your miserable lives. To the brig!
Miguel: All right! Cuba.

And the entire first scene with Chel having dialogue with the two:

Miguel--"Tulio, they actually think we're gods!"
Tulio--"It's an entire city of suckers! We just have to keep this up long enough to load up on the gold and then get the hell out of here!"
Miguel--"Tulio, we'll be living like kings!"
Tulio--"Miguel and Tulio . . . ."
Miguel--"Tulio and Miguel!"
Tulio & Miguel--"Mighty and powerful gods!"
(Chel comes in) Chel--"Hello."
Tulio & Miguel--"AHHHH!" (They jump onto a throne. Chel laughs.)
Tulio--"Depart mortal . . . before we . . . strike you . . . with a . . . lightning bolt!"
(Chel hums and ignores them)
Miguel--"Beware the wrath of the gods! Be gone! Kkccgh, kkccgh!" (makes a hand motion as if tapping into some magical power that he obviously doesn't have)
Chel--"Save it for the high priest, honey. You're gonna need it."
Miguel--"Kkccgh, kkccgh!"
Tulio--"Miguel, it's not working."
Miguel--"Kkccgh, kkccgh!"
Tulio--"Miguel, we've been caught."
Miguel--"Kkcgh, kcc--"
Chel--"Oh no, don't worry about me boys. 'My only wish is to serve the gods.' Remember?"
Tulio--"How?"
Chel--(Putting the stolen golden idol back) "Well if you guys want the gold and you don't want to get caught, you're going to need my help."
Miguel--"What makes you think we need your help?"
Chel--(imitating Miguel) "Kkccgh, kkccgh. Are you serious?"
(Tulio and Miguel look at each other) Miguel--"OK, so who are you?"
Tulio--"Yeah, yeah, what's your angle?"
Chel--"No angle. I want in."
Tulio--"In?"
Chel--"On the scam."
Tulio--"Heh, heh, there's no scam. Why would you think there's a sc--why?"
Chel--"So I can get out."
Miguel--"I thought she just said she wanted in." (Tulio gets off the throne)
Tulio--"She wants in so she can get out."
Miguel--"Ah, got it! (Steps down from the throne) Why?"
Chel--"You think you're the only ones who dream of better things, of adventure? You've got your reasons, and I've got mine. Let's not make it personal, OK? it's just buisness."
Tulio & Miguel--"Oh." (Chel walks over to them)
Chel--(puts her hand on Miguel's shoulder) "So when you guys are ready to go back to, (puts her hand on Tulio's shoulder) wherever you came from, I'm coming with you."
Tulio--"(laughs) No don't think so!" (takes Chel's hand off his shoulder)
Chel--"Ok, fine. (shoves both of them and starts down some stairs, they follow her) After all, I'm sure you know all the proper rituals for blessing a tribute, the holiest days on the calender, oh and of course you know all about (pinches Tulio's cheek) Xibalba. Kay?" (she turns to walk away. Tulio rubs his cheek) See you at the execution.
Tulio--"Ah . . . wait." (Chel turns around)
Chel--"Deal?"
Miguel--(extending his hand to Chel) "Deal!"
Tulio--(snatching Miguel's hand away) "Not yet. (pinches Chel's cheek) Let's just see how this works out."
Chel--"Uh huh, well I guess that means you'll want these back?" (pulls out Tulio's loaded dice)
Tulio--"How'd you get those?" (taking the dice back)
Miguel--"Where was she keeping them?"
Chel--"Call me Chel. Your new partner." (goes into the other room)
Tulio--"That's partner-in-training." (Chel comes back, tossing godly outfits at them)
Chel--"Put these on, your public's waiting!"
(Tulio and Miguel start to undress. Tulio sees Chel sitting on a cushion, watching them) Tulio--"Do you mind?"
Chel--"No. Oh, oh, right. Excuse me. (she gets up and goes behind a curtain) Bye!" (she disappears)
Miguel--"Hmmm, maybe they should call this place Chel-Dorado."
Tulio--"She's . . . whoa! She's trouble! The little voice, remember the little voice? Just for a second imagine that you have one. What would it be saying about Chel?"
Miguel--(sexy growl)
Tulio--"No! We are partners."
Miguel--"Partners."
Tulio--"And we have a plan."
Miguel--"Get the gold, go back to Spain."
Tulio--"Right. And we are pretending to be gods. Now put Chel into the mix, and what does the voice say? Listen carefully."
Miguel--"(beat) Chel is off limits?"
Tulio--"Right! Chel is off limits! Let's shake on it!"

I've been talking a lot to Bitty, who is in CA, over the phone. It's been great.

I talked to Kate today! Her computer is just down. *huge hug sent out to my lovely*

A few more El Dorado quotes:

Tulio: Oh come on, you're BUYING your own CON!
Miguel: At least I'm not DATING mine!
Tulio: Ooo, low blow!

Miguel: Did you ever think it would end this way?
Tulio: The horse is a surprise.
Miguel: Any . . . regrets?
Tulio: You mean besides dying? Yeah. I never . . . had enough . . . gold!
Miguel: My regret, besides dying, is . . . our greatest adventure is over before it began, and no one will even remember us.
Tulio: Well, if it's any consolation, Miguel, you . . . made my life . . . an adventure.
Miguel: And if it's any consolation, Tulio, you made my life . . . rich!

Miguel: Tulio! Tulio, we've done it!
Tulio: Is that the map?
Miguel: It's all right here!
Tulio: You STILL have the MAP?
Miguel: The whistling rock! The stream!
Tulio: You kept the map, but you couldn't manage to grab a little more FOOD?
Miguel: Even those mountains! You said it youself, it could be possible, and it is! It really IS the map to El Dorado!
Tulio: (beat) You drank sea water, didn't you?
Miguel: Oh, come on!
Tulio: I'm not coming on!

Miguel: (In the brig, standing on Tulio's shoulders, holding an apple and talking to a horse up on deck) Altivo! Hey, Altivo! You want the nice apple? Come and get it! But, you have to do a trick for me first! All you have to do is find a pry bar. It's a long piece of metal with a hooky thing at the end.
Tulio: Miguel, you're talking to a horse!
Miguel: Yes, that's it Altivo. Find the pry bar!
Tulio: Yes, "find the pry bar." He doesn't understand "pry bar!" He's a dumb horse, there's no way he could understand . . . .
[Altivo drops the keys into the brig]
Tulio: Well it's NOT a pry bar.

Miguel: Look! El Dorado! The city of gold! This could be our destiny! Our fate!
Tulio: Miguel, if I believed in fate, I wouldn't be playing with loaded dice.

Tulio: (trying to talk himself out of Chel's offer of intimacy) I'm not sure I can trust you.
Chel: I'm not really asking you to trust me, am I?

Tulio: Come on, baby! Papa needs that crappy map!

Which character from The Road to El Dorado are you?

You are the Captain of the Guard! Overall, you are not a bad person. You are calm, reliable and you have no problems with taking orders. You never complain and you would never get the idea to harm somebody just for fun. The problem is that you are easily influenced and too overcredulous. Caution here! You might put yourself and the people around you in danger. And since you, in fact, have a good heart, you wouldn't really want that.
Take this quiz!

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fanfic50 Table

Sun, 15 Jul 2007 05:15:53 GMT

001.	Focus	002.	Room	003.	Sink	004.	Story	005.	Pool
006.	Hook	007.	Maze	008.	Bold	009.	Crush	010.	Heal
011.	Branch	012.	Reign	013.	Echo	014.	Shadow	015.	Dusk
016.	Dawn	017.	Plain	018.	File	019.	Charm	020.	Plan
021.	Blink	022.	Grin	023.	Spoon	024.	Panic	025.	Snow
026.	Patrol	027.	Opportunity	028.	Vertical	029.	Horizon	030.	Replace
031.	Fool	032.	Intervention	033.	Gift	034.	Restless	035.	Weight of the World
036.	Wild	037.	Harsh	038.	Initiative	039.	Pang(s)	040.	Primal
041.	Bribery	042.	Theft	043.	Impatience	044.	Pray	045.	Merchandise
046.	Survivor	047.	Captured	048.	Uncivilized	049.	Poke	050.	Writers' Choice

12 icons of 25. Heck yes.

And I have 12 stories chosen as well:

Maze: Is This the End?

Uncivilized: Pureblood or None

Impatience: Scent and Sensibility

Weight of the World: Snape’s Greatest Fear

Heal: Secrets of the Hogwarts Caretaker

Branch: Werewolf Threats

Restless: It Was in the Wasn’t

Plan: What Hagrid Didn’t Hear

Theft: Pretty Theft

Room: Crying Gets You-Know-Where

Initiative: Dirty Old Ghosts

Wild: The Christmas Curse

Spoiler alert: 5, 17, 39.

Past Couple Weeks

Sun, 15 Jul 2007 02:24:44 GMT

VBS, after which me and Sam have decided that we will never work Chadder again. That damn chipmunk's station is so hard! We had to invent most of our lesson just to make it last 20 minutes. Whatever!

My cousin Mikayla did this at Cracker Barrel. So cute! And finally I had someone to talk about Hannah Montana with without being ridiculed.

The last time A.J. and Ronnie came out, I was left out, but this time me and Ronnie hung out like when we were younger! It was great. I think the closeness came from a random game of Truth or Dare at the wedding reception that ended up lasting only 1 question long: "Do you like girls?", to me, from Dillon. I didn't say anything, and Sam was like "Don't be stupid, you guys. We aren't here to play truth or dare." But I whispered to Ronnie that it was true (Speaking of which, Noelle knows too). He whispered back that he once smoked pot and his parents found out. So we had a nice little secrets connection and sat next to each other at every opportunity after that.

There was a lot of playing Apples to Apples.

We watched "Napoleon Dynamite" and "The Devil Wears Prada". Also, me and Mikayla watched "Samantha" after 5 or 6 of us (including the pastor's daughter, Katherine) watched "Felicity" and then the next day "Molly".

Me and aunt Linda talked a little bit about politics and the bible.

It was just totally awesome. I'm so glad everyone came out (no pun intended).

We went to see big cats at a place called Cedar Cove in Louisburg near the cider mill. This cougar was named Tom:

Sam did a concert last night and I watched "Legally Blonde 2" which Aunt Linda accidently left behind.

I have a newfound respect for Dillon! Not only did he watch "Felicity" and "Molly" and say outright "I have a confession to make: That made me cry," he also watched 2 episodes of Hannah Montana. Ah yes, and also I talked to Vicky over the phone. She sounds a lot like Kate, actually. Yes, everyone made up after the whole Maruader's Ride thing. I even joined Nikkie's new site.

PotC3 Premiere (coplete with rant and pictures!)

Fri, 25 May 2007 14:01:14 GMT

So last night I went to see PotC, AW'sE, with my lovely sister Bitty and my cousin Faith. Me and Bitty dressed up.

As for the movie, I found it fairly good. Entertaining, surely, but the ending of it all...was odd. Practically all the scenes with Beckett are awkward...it seemed as if he really had been gay a few times...at least to me and Éowyn, who was also there with boyfriend Derec.

Anyways, the ending felt a bit anti-climactic.

And now for a spoil-filled rant:

What. The. Hell.

I am a firm believer that while Will may have loved Elizabeth, the feeling was not actually mutual.

You know how in "The Princess Bride" it feels like Wesley and Buttercup are basing their relationship off of nothing? Even more so in the case of these two.

So Jack becomes pretty admirable through the whole thing (especially compared to the last two), and William fucking Turner betrays all of them in hopes of helping his father. He tells Jack he had just told himself "Think like Jack," to which Jack is like "And this is what you arrived at?" a bit offended.

WHEN HAS THERE EVER BEEN ANY TRUE INDICATION THAT THESE TWO HAD SOMETHING? They had no actual chemistry, not like Jack and Elizabeth.

Let's look at the evidence which should have brought about a Jack/Elizabeth turnout:
       - The ever-lovely island scene from the first.
       - The deleted scene "Peas in a Pod" from the first movie which I will post below.
       - My theory was that the Pirates were going to have to get jobs etc or that Elizabeth would live as a Pirate forever (which I think was the case, but they never actually say).
       - The first Will and Elizabeth wedding did not work out. Why was that? It wasn't meant to be! You don't try again, not when there is a perfectly good Jack around.
       - Sparrow and Swann. Both birds of love.
       - Will and Elizabeth's talk about not being able to trust each other.
       - Jack voted for Elizabeth to be Pirate King. (Although part of this was to turn in all the pirates...lol so I guess he did have his bad moment. But Beckett didn't keep his end of the bargain anyway and pulled out the guns.)
       - Will getting stabbed to near death -- I was actually hoping he'd die since the two had just married (Elizabeth and Will). But no, Jack came over and helped him stab the heart.
       - "It never would have worked out between us, Jack." "Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that."
       - Elizabeth's "You thought I loved him," referring to Jack seemed insincere, as did her "love" for Will.
       - At the end of the movie Jack tells off Scarlett and Giselle, getting an almighty slap from both, and one of the few things he tells Scarlett is, "I never loved you."

That "Peas in a Pod" scene: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TT5Mw0D46Xc

ELIZABETH: You're a smart man, Jack, but I don't entirely trust you.

JACK: *points between her and himself* Peas in a pod, love.

Why couldn't they have let Will die? Jack didn't have it in him to not try, I know that. But still...I wish that with Calypso back Davvy could have stayed or changed his ways or something. He was so human, so sensitive in this. Loved it. And as far as Calypso, she was hitting on him a little in the last movie. I've always sort of liked the idea of Will with Tia Dalma/Calypso. Ah well though.

As Jessie from PokeMoN once said, "Girls like that annoy me, always waiting for their man. I'd say, 'see ya later.'" Or I'd at least cheat on him when he's at sea those ten years between when we meet. I hope to Heaven she actually cheats on him with Jack...that'd be alright, then. But she shouldn't stay married to someone who she can only see once every ten years.

I would almost be more okay with Jack being the one who stabbed it, if W/E was the only thing they were going to let happen.

--------So Holly told me that he became free from the curse, Will. So what? It's not like they were supposed to be together anyway.

I am just totally pissed off about it all at the moment.

Graduated, Site Thriving, Movies and Song, Puked

Thu, 24 May 2007 14:21:27 GMT

I graduated on Sunday.

So the site's going really great, Stacey and Aminian have both joined as well as LLG and Roxxanne. I'm working on making Aminian's eyes look blue in his av and sig...it's alright but could be better. Aminian's sig is on its fifth try. *sigh* Well anyways I started this board called "Post to Yourself" where you post a post where your character is alone or with a character that you don't actually have an account for that you made up, for instance Antonio Fink or Bradley Madley. So far I've done a first post of an Antonio/Graham thread that would be taking place over spring break.

Been watching a lot of movies lately, mainly one's I'd seen (Happy Gilmore, Sweet Home Alabama) but I hadn't seen "50 First Dates" and if you haven't either you need to, it's very good. Surprisingly it's not your normal stupid RomCom. It is romantic, though, and very funny. Furthermore, I got the first Josh Zuckerman CD! Getting the second one too, sometime. About to go to a really good (I hope) movie tonight:

This morning I totally puked...no idea why. Maybe it was the apple juice? *shrugs* Or maybe the chicken breasts last night. I have no idea.

From the Chatbox

Sun, 20 May 2007 03:05:45 GMT

From the chatbox on http://www.marauders99.proboards49.com:

19 May 07, 22:53

Phae *2 days*: This site is closed untell it has been revamped and re opend thanks and have a good day

19 May 07, 22:53

Phae *2 days*: Now for all others that still are on here

19 May 07, 22:53

Art: Thank god

19 May 07, 22:52

Nikkie ||B*tch Co-Admin||: Whores, Hoes, and skanks aren't allowed to speak in this Chat Box, so Laura, you have been rejected, good bye, hope your life goes down hill from here

19 May 07, 22:49

Art: so w/e

19 May 07, 22:49

Art: I would be

19 May 07, 22:49

LLGP: I wouldn't be so sure, Art.

19 May 07, 22:49

Art: so **** off

19 May 07, 22:49

Art: since seventh grade

19 May 07, 22:49

Art: I've known her'

19 May 07, 22:48

Art: ok

19 May 07, 22:48

LLGP: And yeah they are.

19 May 07, 22:48

Art: IZ IS BEHIND ME

19 May 07, 22:48

LLGP: Nikkie's repeating herself again.

19 May 07, 22:48

Nikkie ||B*tch Co-Admin||: Not likely

19 May 07, 22:48

LLGP: Iz and Stacey are behind me!

19 May 07, 22:48

Nikkie ||B*tch Co-Admin||: Your writing is total ****, so don't quit your day job

19 May 07, 22:48

Phae *2 days*: You broke friendship when you dissed my friends yu lost it right there not even going to give you another chance now as you diss my friends more

19 May 07, 22:47

Nikkie ||B*tch Co-Admin||: Laura, you need to get the ****ing rainforest out of your goddamn ass, all you are doing is pissing people off, no one wants to look at you or speak to you GO SOMEWHERE ELSE YOU AREN'T WANTED HERE

No new messages

19 May 07, 22:47

LLGP: Especially a poet.

19 May 07, 22:47

LLGP: I'm going to be a writer too.

19 May 07, 22:46

LLGP: Just don't quit your day job.

19 May 07, 22:46

Art: let me know

19 May 07, 22:46

Nikkie ||B*tch Co-Admin||: I actually can write, I am going to be a writer when I get older, because my writing has detail to it, a lot more than your bull ****

19 May 07, 22:46

Art: when you learn how to write

19 May 07, 22:46

Art: what freaking ever...that's my best app ever and I will not have you put it down

19 May 07, 22:46

LLGP: Um yeah...you cannot write.

19 May 07, 22:45

Art: a bit better then you

19 May 07, 22:45

LLGP: IT's not the length -- as seen from Art's Rachel Hunt app.

19 May 07, 22:45

Art: so I think I know her

19 May 07, 22:45

Nikkie ||B*tch Co-Admin||: Your roleplay was pure ****, if you even call THAT roleplaying! One Liners are for novices, thats why no one rped with you, because you sucked at it

19 May 07, 22:45

Art: I talk to her every freaking day

19 May 07, 22:45

Art: Iz Is my best friend in rl

19 May 07, 22:45

LLGP: Yeah, I'm sure that's why Iz and Stacey and my sister thought it was awesome.

19 May 07, 22:45

Art: and my attitude is a load better than yours

19 May 07, 22:45

Nikkie ||B*tch Co-Admin||: My roleplaying was a billion times better, get the ****ing rain forest out of your ass

19 May 07, 22:44

Art: You rped one-liners...with yourself

19 May 07, 22:44

Phae *2 days*: SHUT YOUR FACE YOU *****

19 May 07, 22:44

Nikkie ||B*tch Co-Admin||: ... Laura, your roleplay was pure ****

LLGP: And Art stop with the "holier-than-thou" attitude already, it's really old.

19 May 07, 22:42

LLGP: **** this. Bye

19 May 07, 22:42

LLGP: I STILL would wish to talk to you on a phone or meet you, Vicky. But I think it is innumerably sad that you two would act like this. I posted more than either of you, and I'm a better roleplayer too!

19 May 07, 22:42

Art: for all of our sakes.

19 May 07, 22:42

Art: just stop.

19 May 07, 22:42

Art: Laura

19 May 07, 22:41

LLGP: *feeling

19 May 07, 22:41

LLGP: You two are trying to use a stupid roleplaying site as the answer to feel inadequate. Nice.

19 May 07, 22:40

LLGP: I'm tired of you two lamoes stinking up the internet. RPing is about comraddery, not idiotic legislation that is only there to create turmoil.

19 May 07, 22:40

LLGP: This c-box must be your only real friend.

19 May 07, 22:39

LLGP: Well not the friends thing, obviously. Stop using "*****" as an excuse for acting like a five-year-old.

19 May 07, 22:38

LLGP: r you, Nikkie.

19 May 07, 22:38

LLGP: add to the growing, stinking pile you're standing on, the pile of failed sites. Vicky, you were a friend, but you threw it away for no reason. I'd even forgive you. Just stop being an ass -- double fo

19 May 07, 22:37

LLGP: Neither of you should be placed in positions of power because you obviously aren't mature enough to handle it. Everyone still here was here for me, and I for them. Now it's just another ended site to

19 May 07, 22:36

LLGP: II'd like to say I'm impressed by this latest little show of your powers -- but I'm not and never have been. You've changed, Vicky, vastly. Nikkie, as my sister says, "go suck your ancestors!"

19 May 07, 22:13

Art: It will be a clean slate....sort of *nods*

19 May 07, 22:08

Phae *2 days*: Back no one will lose what position they are unless they have asked to change or other things. So keep calm things are alright just revamping It Needs It thank you.

19 May 07, 22:08

Phae *2 days*: about a Week there abouts. All the threads will be moved to an old thread section andn profiles will be moved to there own section and so on and so forth. When the site is re open i will welcome all

19 May 07, 22:07

Phae *2 days*: To all who are members on this site. I am closeing the site down for revamping NO if's ands or butts about it. This site needs a bit of cleaning up and things should be open again in a few days like

19 May 07, 22:02

Phae *2 days*: Thank you

Although, for your sakes, sweeties (Iz and Stacey), sorry I brought you up. But I hope you're going to quit now. I got banned for that harmless stuff earlier, you both saw it, all of it. I don't know what her fucking head trauma is. Geez!

Shut Up Mr. Bagman

Fri, 18 May 2007 00:02:15 GMT

Speaking of Harry being helped by Bagman...oh gosh. Me and my sister had to the tune of Outkast's "I'm Sorry Ms. Jackson" a song called "Shut Up, Mr. Bagman"

Shut up Mr. Bagman
I am for re-a-al.
I know what I'm gon' to do today,
Don't you go suggestin' a new way.
(repeat)

Me and the first task,
We got a special thing goin' on,
I summoned up my Firebolt
And rode it all across the lawn.
Maneuvered round the dragon
Who was so very mean,
Then I captured the gold egg,
Not red, not pink, not gree-een.

Shut up Mr. Bagman
I am for re-a-al.
I know what I'm gon' to do today,
Don't you go suggestin' a new way.
(repeat)

Me and the second task,
We got a special connection.
When I'm there under the water,
For my Ron I feel affection.
Krum had the shark's head
And Cedric had the bubble.
Fleur copied Cedric,
This tournament is trouble.

Shut up Mr. Bagman
I am for re-a-al.
I know what I'm gon' to do today,
Don't you go suggestin' a new way.
(repeat)

Me and the third task,
You've never seen brighter days.
The third task loves me,
Even though it's just a maze.
The skrewts and boggarts
Are nothing that I haven't seen,
Although fear soon enters
My body as I watch the scene.
Fleur's stuck upside-down,
Krum seems he's lost his mind.
I have to save Cedric
From my professor who's unkind (yeah, that was a fairly new line, I know you love it!),
We grabbed the Tri-Wizard
Trophy then, both at once.
Unfortunately
Voldemort was no dunce.

Possibility

Thu, 17 May 2007 12:00:07 GMT

Mandey - no, you do not have to be an English major. But being in English classes does give you lots of opportunity to write. Not that the other classes don't but many of them concentrate on learning subject matter rather than practicing writing.
Exactly. I just think putting myself through all *crinkles nose* that would be an effort I wouldn't want to put forth unprompted.

I wouldn't care if I were weird if I had a talent for writing. Well, I suppose I do have a talent for song parodies (I am rather proud of my "Bad Day" parody).
Well yeah there's that aspect too...I like writing, but mainly I like reading my own writing, does that make sense? I think my favorite thing to do is sing, and I'm not that good. My favorite thing used to be swinging, but then I broke my arm...darn thing's still giving me trouble.

In fact...there's not a lot I like doing...I can only think of watching TV and movies -- a critic, then?

Actually I totally lied...I absolutely love PhotoShop, and Paint, and even a pencil and paper sometimes. I can write pretty good, yeah, but it's not as much of a pleasure as working with pictures is. Unfortunately? I have no astonishing talents as an artist. I'm alright with graphics and photo manipulation, certainly better than most classmates, but in no way the best. *sigh*

I like both poems but I really like the 5th Grade Band poem.
Thanks. ^__^ My sister looked so cute out there, she was a little percussionist and she was on the bells that night.

The sign language excerpt sounds like a wild night out on the town but I'm not really sure about the Michael Jackson and the Johnny Depp parts of it.
Me and Cat and Joe came up with the most random ideas for it. It all sounds a bit more forthcoming in English. Poor Michael is just so weird...and Depp's just so nice. *shrugs* Cat just thought it'd be funny to have him do the moonwalk -- I think it was. Hee.

What makes you think your poems wouldn't sell? I suppose that people thought the same about e.e. cummings.
*flush*

Have you submitted anything to publications such as Contemporary Poetry Review?
No. I should though, shouldn't I? Certainly have enough.

Professor McBabsagal returns - Mandey, are you sure you should be here when you still have one more project to turn in?
I.
Love.
You.
Babs.

*hugs and leaves*

my first photo manipulation was when I couldn't find the picture of a wrapper from something...

I just pictured a baby book with "Baby's first photomanip." Gosh I must be tired!

me a la alastor

Added two celebs into same picture twice (and added some hair...I could have done better but it was quick) to make this RPing sig which is something that is admittedly easy to do but I've been practicing like with the v-tine's Hermione and Ron I did for Katie.

Oh I'd forgotten these pictures for a song. I did them within a month of getting Photoshop. Obviously what I'd be referring to is the bottom one, in this case.

A few things I did on deviantART
Uno Dos (<==here're your trees, Katie! And lol that doll-like face? It's from a picture of my brother in make-up.) Tres (<==not a ton of manipulation...but adorable!) old deviantART ID collage

Ooo and my old 2nd-ever photo manipulation

But, perhaps that's enough stalling...O__O

^So like I said last night, I don't like writing that much. I like Photoshopping better. If I did English as a major I think it would burn me out writing-wise. Not kidding! So maybe I should go back to wanting to do marketing after all...that was my first choice of major, even though it will have so much math. I think all I need is a lot of practice and training and then I help with the writing and picture sides of ads. It was the first thing I ever actually considered as a job and I keep coming back to it. *scratches head* I just don't know.

More Drama, Yearbooks, Poetry

Wed, 16 May 2007 23:56:41 GMT

Further disgusted with Jacque. I come into class and she tells Derec about how she and her boyfriend broke up because "things just weren't working out" and during this she shot a pointed glance at me. Which, since she yesterday said she was in love with him (typical Jacquesque turn of events that today they would have "broken up"), confirms his non-existence. Jacque, I don't care if you do or don't like me, just stop doing whatever it is you think you're doing.

People started signing my "yearbook insert" (aka. actually notebook paper tihs time around...), that's always so fun. I wish it was a british thing too because then Hogwarts would have yearbooks! Or maybe I just wish we could see what American wizarding yearbooks would be like, would they play the schoool song when you opened to a certain page? What would people write?!

Mrs. V gave me like 5 copies of my printed and bound poetry. Nice. Now I just have to suffer old people reading things I'm not sure I want them to read...not my grandma, but the other old people at the church.

Nappage or Lack Thereof, Is this Sign Language Class, or Drama?, New Major?

Wed, 16 May 2007 05:38:36 GMT

What is the WORST THING you have ever voluntarily eaten? (keep it clean, folks, this is a family site)
I was in like 6th grade, so you'll have to excuse my lapse in judgment. I put swiss cheese on an Eggo. God, please do not try it if you know what's good for you.

That donut looks positively scrumdiddlyumptious with a side of yum.

WOOOHOOO! Ladieeees amd gentlemennnn! Please give a standing ovation for yet another one of the HWC success stories -- MANDEY!!!
*grins* Well don't count my chickens before they hatch...I totally found out today that this old research project in Government is a requirement. *sigh* So I have to go and finish it and turn it in.

I've thought the potion is what did it for Kreacher since I read the name R.A.B.! ^__^

I like Family Guy. I like Futurama even better, though.

Woohoo! Who is graduating besides mandey? Bornevil is...have we heard from BE post tornados? I think we definitely need to throw a graduation party (we being the royal we because of course I'm not very good at these things). But Mandey--huge hugs and giant congratulations to you! You are entering the best time of your life. College has all of life's freedoms with only a fraction of its responsibilities (learn and get decent grades). It really is the most fun phase (until retirement I expect).
I know, I can't wait until I'm old -- even after that old folks simulation we did in Contemporary Living on Thursday. You can do anything you want socially (provided it's basically legal) and you get senior discounts. ^__^ I am going to yell at other people's kids, and blast rap with explatives, and throw fits. Haha Snape would love getting old if he treated it that way, I bet -- free reign to throw fits? SIGN ME UP!

I hope this clears soon Mandey. I know you don't want to hear it, but there is a theory about sleep and depression that says it is a lot better to keep a super regular nighttime sleep schedule (sleep and wake at same time) and no naps because it allows your circadian rhythm to help with the depression. My kids have both participated in a study related to this and they want EXACT same time to bed and to wake up every night because they believe it will reduce depression in people with a family history. I strongly recommend more sleep at night EVERY night and no naps... (I know you don't want to hear it... just passing on the science because I think it could help you)
Wow! That's good to know. And I read this...and then took a nap. I can't help it...my bed's right next to the computer, tempting me with it's sinful little sheets and Mickey Mouse-in-a-blimp pillow.

So I finally just finished my Sign Language final DVD and will get it to him tomorrow. Yay!

Speaking of, today in Sign Language there was some drama (ready for more high school drama, Babs? Sheesh...), what you could call one of me and Jacque's major falling-outs. I was helping Rose learn the Star Spangled Banner (except for the senior who is going to be signing it at graduation, no seniors have to know it because we don't have to take the final, this DVD is our final). And she was singing it and so was I while we signed, it really helped her. And Jacque and Derec would not quit ragging on us about our singing. I can't believe they would make fun of us. We tried to move out into the hall but Mr. B wanted us all in the classroom. So we moved and tried to be very quiet, but those two had to keep it up.

I was like "Okay, Jacque, you're not exactly the best either. And I doubt Derec's very good." And they complained about us to Mr. B who was like "Um...they're the ones on topic, nice try." And Jacque would not quit! And I was like "You know what, Jacque, [insert explative] you!" and she was like "Only not so much, considering I don't have sex with lesbians," to which I scoffed, and in reply I was like "Yeah...and I'm so sure you never flirted with me last year either!" And it went back and forth including her talking about how she really loves her boyfriend (which she may or may not have; remember she's the queen of lying for no real apparent reason, just to spice things up) and told me to go do things I won't repeat, it was pretty bad...and when she left I was talking to Cat (also in the class, and Jacque's old best friend's younger sister) and she was like "This is ridiculous. It's fine if she's bi -- no one cares. Just don't lie about it so emphatically." You know? Her and her stupid methods of projection. It was probably not cool of me to say that she'd flirted with me (which, the instances in and of themselves, combined with her defensiveness on being asked to repeat a half-jokingly stated "Why don't we just go together?" when we were talking about trying to find dates for Prom last year (I wasn't even sure I'd heard her right and in reply she's all "I didn't say anything" and like storms off to her bus for which I felt bad)) were undeniable) in front of the class (only Amber, Rose, and Cat were listening, even Joe who was the onle other one close enough, was listening to his iPod). *sigh* Oh well.

So then I was pretty much in a very bad mood, internally at least, or at least until I napped (sorry Tami, I'm a bad kid *giggles*). Only two more days of being around her hopefully. It was funny though, we've been reading Hamlet and Cat's bf Joe said, "Methinks the lady doth protest too much." I love that quote from Hamlet, it's pretty much the best one. I hadn't realized just how many there were (these may not be verbatim): "Never a borrower nor lender be," "To be or not to be," "Madness in great ones should not unwatched go," "Alas, I knew him, Horatio," "shuffle off this mortal coil," "Get the to a nunnery," etc.

And then today we got to watch the Hamlet part of those guys who do shortened versions of Shakespeare. It was funny!

Ooo and the movie version of Hamlet with Mel Gibson has to be one of the creepiest movies ever filmed. Especially when Gertrude and Hamlet are kissing -- yikes! Ophelia is adorable when crazy, though. Ha. She makes me want to go crazy too! A__A

Mandey, that is such great news about your impending graduation and starting college! Sociology is a great area of study, but English would be great in terms of refining your ability to craft a message whether it be in advertising or drafting policy statements. Personally, if I had your talent I would be working on getting a book of poetry published. You definitely don't need to study creative writing - you have the raw talent - but studying poetry, plays, novels, etc. might be a way for you to learn more about how to convey a message.
Aww thnaks! And yes, I should seriously consider English, you're right. It's just I abhor reading the vast majority of fiction, it's absolute torture to my wearied soul. Perhaps I should give up on such career goals and head toward safer ground...No idea what I'd be. Just don't want to be just a writer, there's not a lot of money in that and writers are weird...(no offense if that's anyone's job...or if Jo is reading ha!) and also I can't work on creative things unless I have other work, generally speaking. I don't want to teach, I just don't have the personality for that -- plus, what the crap would I teach? Hmmm...well if Snape ever needs a defensive fan, I can fill those shoes...hee.

Well now I'm pretty much at a loss...what should I do when I grow up (oh how I loathe the question!)?

Currently taking serious suggestions based on my interests, skills, and personality...

Nathan Davis: Every Day Hero, Roommateless

Tue, 15 May 2007 01:33:15 GMT

I'm in a pretty foul mood because I was just woken up to eat my sister's birthday cake. I stormed down the stairs (first appearance of the Snape in me...) and after my mainly-spoken rendition of "Happy Birthday," when I found out it was a CHOCOLATE cake which they know I don't really care for at all, I let out a long and hissed "Oh my God..." which made everyone look at me (everyone only = parents, siblings, grandma) and was like "The next time you wake me up to make me eat a birthday cake, make sure it is non-chocolate." And I hear as I'm going up the steps "This isn't about you, it's about Sam's birthday." And I gave this disdainful, "Happy Birthday, Sam." I didn't realize until now just how Snape-like it was!!

Nathan Davis, in the Science-classroom-made-to-pass-as-our-CP English-classroom,with this paperclip:

The sparks flew -- literally -- and tumbled in an oddly captivating manner, bright orange and splediferous. It was quite a scene. You can tell as much by looking at the end results:

Check out the singe marks.

Compare the hole to its friend below.

Look how happy he is with his work, ladies and gentleman. It's enough that we're all witnesses. Heroism comes in all forms!

Miranda's taken! *gasp* So I'm roommateless. Haha I was like "Aww, fuck you," to her when she said that, and my English teacher was like "Mandey!" Haha.

Miranda, Some Quiz Things

Sat, 12 May 2007 08:12:08 GMT

So along with myself, 07 Ravens going to Emporia include Scotty, Nathaniel, Cody, Heather, and Miranda! I'd forgotten about her. I need to see if she'll be my roomie!

Your Score: Mostly Gay

You scored -28 (-52 being completely gay, 0 being bisexual, and 52 being completely straight)

Link: The Sexuality Spectrum Test written by tall_man_54 on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

Your Score: Plenty of Screaming!

You scored 59% listening skills and 73% demeanor!

Link: The Would Judge Judy yell at YOU? Test written by thebestonehere on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

Your Score: Buttercup

Congratulations! You scored 76!

Link: The ULTIMATE Princess Bride Test written by psylocke331 on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

Your Score: The Nice League

You are 35% Factor A, and 58% Factor B. Figure that out.

Link: The What's Your League? Test written by selaruth on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

Bill Tells All: Voldemort's New Form

Fri, 11 May 2007 23:48:15 GMT

Re: The Wizard War, The Great Potter Debate-Number 8 ! ( Disclaimer : Harry may or may not be a horc
Posted May 11, 2007 6:02 PM

To lure LV's mighty Ducks. They are lead to believe it is a new transformation of LV. and the order use it to lure the DE to a building with anti apparating charms placed on it.
Haha! Too priceless!

(only have paint on this comp...)

PG Snape has a dark little secret, but Narcissa knows it.

Pretty Theft

It was a little-known fact, but under the stern, staunch robes was a wonderland of androgyny. Snape hadn't worn greying underpants for a while. He'd made a more worthwhile acquaintance: silky women's knickers.

There were two reasons as to why he had been so angry with Neville for imagining a boggart image of him in a hat with a vulture and a ridiculous red handbag and an ugly dress. He didn't want people to know he loved dressing in feminine things of course (not that feminine really applied to a hat with a stuffed vulture on top), but even more importantly he didn't want people thinking he was a tacky dresser.

His dark little secret, his lingerie, was lacy and silky and made him look great. At least he thought so. It was hard to lose too much control over his temper when he felt so sinfully luxurious. Today he was even wearing stockings inside his seemingly-masculine boots.

The students that he terrified would have a field day if they knew, not to mention what some of the other Death Eaters would say. Although, he wondered how well he could still intimidate -- it would even help him out if they figured he was simply going mad.

He'd taken from Narcissa, that first time, and now it was both habit and obsession. He had known she was going to realize the missing pieces of underclothing, dispensable as they were (dispensable to her, though in reality they were expensive). It wasn't like Narcissa not to notice. Narcissa pretended she was none the wiser, though she and Snape both knew better. But she kind of thought it was sweet. Perhaps she'd bring it up someday, that should prove interesting. She wanted to hear the secretive, conservative man's reaction.

Wasn't his birthday coming up? For the first time, she had the sudden urge to buy him a gift. After all, if he was stealing her clothes, she already knew his size.

heunbreakablesnapefan
Snape's Soulmate

Joined: Nov 19, 2005
House: Hufflepuff
Points: 4308

Re: theunbreakablsnapefan's One-Shot Fics
Posted May 11, 2007 11:52 AM

good observation... maybe we should use this to determine who cross-dresses... obviously Harry doesn't...maybe if he DID he could master Occlumency!

DD seems he might, though I'd always pegged him for a nudist myself (at least under his robes). Sirius could use a teddy... Lupin clearly already wears them. teehee... this is fun.
Ha I love you!

I need to do a follow-up now where Harry learns the secrets of women's underthings as well, don't I? Who'll break the news to Harry that he'll have to ask Snape about it, Dumbledore?

Harry: *sputters* WHAT?! I am not asking that...that bat what he wears...wears under his...*is at a loss*

Dumbledore: Well, you could also ask Remus.

Harry: *sighs* Right, then. *looks around* Sorry I broke your silver instruments.

Dumbledore: *nods* Quite alright. Now, get going, it's almost that time of day where I lock my doors, brew some tea, and free myself from the oppression of my robes.

Harry: *scampers out the door with a whimper and a hand in front of his mouth as if he's gonig to be ill*

Spectral Analysis, Quotes from old fic, and Old Folks Simulation

Fri, 11 May 2007 02:11:33 GMT

Get your own spectral analysis from Area 23^®

Rereading my old fics from like Freshman year. For some reason, one morning Pansy woke up able to read minds. It was temporary, but I love this bit, I think it's so cute if that's what Slytherins are really like. Ha!

Meanwhile, Draco was in a fit of laughter. Pansy was reading the minds of students and whispering what everyone was really thinking, the twisted little bastards...

~~~~~~~
Girl 1: Alright! (Sarcastic)"Potions exams. I can't WAIT..." No, really, I can't!!!

Girl 2: "Oh, right, Potions exams. I hate that class!" But not that teacher!

Girl 1: "Old Snape sure does us right, eh?" Oh MERLIN I hate that sickening, greasy, pale, twitchy little spider...Yeew!

Girl 2: "Yes, helps us out in the race for the House Cup, he does!" Not to mention how tall, dark and...well...how up-to-hieght-standards, dark, and not-so-ugly he is!!

Girl 1: "Yes, hopefully we'll win this year!"

Girl 2: Oh yes, and the Bulgarian National Quidditch team will run laps through the lobby of St. Mungos..."Yes, let's hope!"

Girl 1: "What's been your toughest exam?" You weakling! I bet it was Potions, you're worse than Parkinson!
~~~~~~~

Pansy repeated this to Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, and blushed.

Crabbe decked Girl 1. "Ow! Merlin, Crabbe, what was that for?" she exclaimed from her new spot on the ground. A second-year quickly took Girl 1's place at the table.

He gave an animalistic grunt and returned to his seat, winking at Pansy. Pansy giggled.

I've never liked portraying Crabbe and Goyle as absolute idiots. Harry's never spoken to them after all. My opinion that Crabbe and Goyle are not completely stupid once got me kicked off a Harry Potter roleplaying site for being too out of character for Crabbe...

More from that fic, I love Draco and his folks in this one.

Draco inhaled deeply, eyes closed. He loved the feeling of being back home. It felt like childhood, like his innocence.

Lucius was heading toward his office when he halted and turned, "You'd best go over and say hello to your mother."

Draco jumped and then nodded. He knew where she would be on a day as nice as this. He stepped out into the yard, bright sunlight nearly blinding him, and squinted. There she was. Laying down on a comfortable chair-thingie, she was using her hat's brim as a shield to the sun. Draco quickly made his way over to her, sneaking behind her reclining form.

On three, then. One...two...THREE! He grabbed her chair and flipped it over. She screamed and sprang to her feet, fuming.

"Draco! You half-witted baffoon! What have I told you about getting me all filthy! Just look at me! I sit here, trying to relax for once, and you ruin my little bit of peace!"

Lucius's face appeared in a window. "Everything alright, love?"

She frowned at him, turning so he could see her mudditity.

He chuckled.

She made a threatening gesture with her manicured hands.

"Oh...Draco! What is your problem?!"

She rolled her eyes, walking toward the back door, "He gets it from you, you know." She walked inside.

Lucius frowned down at Draco. "Not even one hour and you've upset her?" Draco shrugged.

Lucius growled and grabbed a gold plaque from off the wall, chucking it at Draco. Draco attempted to dodge it, but got hit anyway. "Owww!! FATHER!"

"Next time resist the temptation, Draco. Resist, resist, resist!"

Draco frowned.

"Oh, and bring that in," he said, gesturing to the plaque.

Draco frowned as Lucius's face vanished from its place in the high window. He bent down and picked up the plaque, rubbing his shoulder where the plaque had hit it.

...

Draco held his breath and held himself carefully upon entering his father's room. He marveled at the dustless shining metal as he hung the plaque back up on the lonely nail.

"Hey, uncle Dwaco!"

"Hey, Marv," said Draco, looking for any sign of his posessions. Marvillo had been known to take without asking.

"I'm making a mud pie, wanna taste?"

Draco's lip curled into a slight sneer, "No thanks."

Marvillo stood, covered in mud. "Can I hep you wake the weefs?"

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, Auntie Nawissa says for Dwaco to wake aww the weaves! It is the end of faww, you know."

Draco rolled his eyes and bent to pick up the rake.

"Uncle Dwaco, when awe my mum and dad coming back?"

Draco examined the rake scrutinisingly, "They aren't."

Marvillo frowned in confusion, "They have to. They awways go away, but they'we awways back again!"

"Yes, well not this time," Draco said with a chuckle.

"Why not?"

"They're dead, deceased, kaput. They can't come back. They're gone for good. Why else did you think you were here?"

Marvillo's lip trembled, "But...but I th-thought that you were just wetting me visit for a whiwe!"

Draco snapped his grey eyes to Marvillo's blue ones. "Why would we unless we had to?"

Five-year-old tears fell.

After he was finished bringing the leaves into a pile he left his cousin outside to cry, looking for the other house elf, as Marvillo had no idea as to where it had gone. In the woods next to the manor he found it, but it had been looking for him.

"Sir, Master says, 'Emergency. No questions, throw your bloody clothes in a trunk and get your arse in the firepace. Bring Marvillo as well and head toward "Stafford Burough" And hurry, darn it.'"

Draco sighed, "Thank you, elf."

"You's welcome, sir."

"Just take my hand, Marv."

"But mum and daddy don't want me!" he said, blue eyes impossibly wide.

"Yes they do, are you stupid?"

Marvillo winced.

"I mean...I want you."

"No you don't!" Marvillo said, face red with anger.

"Yes I do, now shut up and grab my hand."

Marvillo did so.

Draco took a handful of powder in his hand and was about to drop it.

"No! I wanna do it!"

"You?" said Draco, incredulous.

"Yes me. I can do it!"

"No you can't, you can't even pronounce Borough of Stafford. I'll bet you don't even know what it is."

"Is it...a town? Are we going to anothew city? That's where we should go, you know. They have a fire-pwace to mark the entrance to evewy city."

Draco, surprised that Marvillo had pretty much answered his question, silently placed the powder in Marvillo's small hand.

Marvillo shot him a look of smuggish triumph and threw the powder, watching the flames green right before their eyes. He stood in the centre of the fire. "Borough of Suh...tah...BUWOUGH!"

Seeing as Marvillo had already stepped forward, Draco had no choice but to follow suit as quickly as possible. He pulled Marvillo to him inside the flames, trying hard not to hit any walls.

They finally stopped spinning. Marvillo darted out of the fireplace and Draco tried to follow without ducking.

The sandwich paused in the air, halfway to the open mouth. What in the bloody hell was going on?

Two forms had emerged from the fireplace. The small boy, covered in soot, smacked the face of the larger one who had fallen, in an attempt to wake him.

"Can we help you?" she asked, a bit startled.

"Yes, ma'am," said the little boy with large blue eyes, "wake him up he's got an ouchie! He hitted his head, didn't you both see? He's being stupid and he won't wake up."

The bottom of the sandwich fell hopelessly to the ground, along with a bit of cabbage and corned beef. Arthur was struck dumb.

Molly stood and knelt down by the older boy, checking for a pulse. "Well, he's alive, breathing as well." She reached down with a single, clean hand and wiped some of the soot from his face. She gasped.

"What?" said Arthur, standing and joining his spouse on the floor.

Then he fell silent, as she was. There, on the floor, was Lucius Malfoy's boy.

Okay now no more posting parts of fics today. *chuckles* But obviously there was a lot of potential in that one! I also had one where Draco and Harry had switched bodies so Draco was at the Burrow then too. Meanwhile Narcissa had put Harry ("Draco") in charge of sorting out the seating chart for the guests...which was not an easy task. I did it, though, I actually visually laid it out in paint. ^__^ She wrote little notes over each guest.

So I've recently been thinking about the cup some more, but I stick with my answer of it being decidedly mug-like in appearance.

I should leave you all in favor of working on my blasted English paper (our last day of school for Seniors is next Thursday).

So today in class we were simulating being old. I got lucky, I only had arthritis which meant all my fingers on one hand were masking-taped together, and on the other it was like the Trekkie sign. Jeff next to me had goggles covered in vaseline for Cataracts, and Reuben across from me had blacked-out ones for blindness. One my other side Cassie had one hand and one foot tied to the chair for a stroke. Dillon had blindness and a stroke! I got my button sewn onto fabric pretty quickly, and I was the first to finish peeling my orange. Peeling the orange with my fingers unable to really bend hurt, though. Oh yeah and we all had earplugs, which made me want to cuss when frustrated because I kept feeling as though no one could hear me.

Almost Illegal

Wed, 09 May 2007 19:46:50 GMT

Kate's birthday is coming up! *squeals like Kate's biggest fangirl (which I am, duh...)* Last year I made her the most awesomest necklace ever, based on Super Mario Bros. She loves red yoshis.

I miss her, she hasn't been on in quite a while.

Unfortunately, it's the big 18, so anything we did this summer when she comes out *wink wink* would be illegal until September. ^__^

Crush Meter and I'm Velma

Mon, 07 May 2007 11:51:09 GMT

Crush this person!
Get your own ThisCrush.com CrushTag!

I'm Velma, which ambiguous dyke are you? Quiz by Turi.

it's like not showing up... http://i131.photobucket.com/albums/p296/tmtrcclby2/velma.jpg

How will you be suspended from LJ? by Anonymous LJ User
Username
Years on LJ
Snape
Hours left until your suspension	12
Your crime	You suck.
Who reported you	akinaria
Your fate	We'll never forget you, honest.