Admirer's Thread

[owen]

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SWEET JESUS MOTHER OF GOD.

Can I please just say that Abbie is a FREAKIN' genius?
The hardest part about playing someone else, in my opinion, is knowing who they really are. How they'd really react to certain situations. I don't play Lucas, but I sure as hell know that this is one of the most difficult situations that he's ever had to face, and Abbie did it to PERFECTION.

Jesus, Abbie. Stop being so DAMN GOOD.

There was a disgusting wrenching feeling in Luke's stomach as the words echoed through the hallway. 'Is there a problem Myers?' It was almost like he was about to puke and his body was about to fall apart all at the same time. Instantly nervous, Lucas made his way quickly through the crowd that was beginning to gather. Leave it to Wes Carrington to make a jackass of himself and cause a scene in front of everyone. Closing his eyes and shaking his head, Lucas' arms felt suddenly empty, wishing that he could just hold Johnny close to him and protect him from the shittiness of the world. From people like Wes, who were just taking his anger out on people that didn't deserve it and couldn't care less about other people's feelings as long as they felt better. It took a few moments, but eventually Luke shoved his way past the few people that still stood between him and the small circle that was cut out of the crowd, the circle that contained Wes...and Johnny. Clenching his fists together, Lucas stared at Johnny, his eyes starting to sting as his worst fears started materializing right in front of his eyes. Eyes down, dejected pose, silent. He wasn't fighting back. Why didn't he ever fight back? Lucas had never really had his heart broken, but just standing there, watching Johnny just take all of this, with not one person around him standing up for him...he could feel his heart shattering inside his chest, as if it were cracking to pieces and falling to the floor.

Biting his lower lip, Lucas trembled, torn between what he knew he needed to do and realizing just how scared he really was. Finally faced with the situation...he wasn't ready. But inside, he knew he was never really going to be ready. They could make all the preparations they wanted, come up with every plan for this to become easier, but it was going to be hard no matter what. The ideas they'd come up with out on the lawns had become obscelete the moment Lucas laid eyes on Johnny just a minute or so ago. If anything, he just wanted to see his eyes. Just wanted Johnny to look at him for a moment, so that Lucas might find some kind of inner strength to make this easier. After this, he could deny it all he wanted, but he wasn't going to be able to really defend himself. No matter what, people were going to think that he was gay, and they'd be right. There would be no point in defending himself, no point in trying to fight off the rumors. He'd be out. Staring over at Johnny, Lucas felt like he was literally being torn in two, his ears half-ringing with the murmurs of the crowd and a weight on his chest that felt overwhelming. What was he supposed to do? Taking deep breaths, Lucas weighed the outcomes, but time was running out. Wes was getting more and more obnoxious and more people were gathering...and Johnny needed him. Lucas paused on that one, even if it made his insides twist again. Johnny needed him. His boyfriend needed him. The word still sounded strange in his mind, but they were just words. They didn't really mean anything. What did mean something was the feeling that Lucas got when he was around Johnny, the gentle feeling of his fingers against Luke's skin, finally finding that feeling of acceptance that neither of them had really experienced before.

It wasn't until Lucas opened his eyes that he realized he'd closed them, though they snapped open at the word 'fag'. Furrowing his brow, images of Johnny wrapped up in his arms disappeared, and his hands clenched into fists automatically. Shaking his head, Lucas knew that if he didn't do this, right now, he was going to regret it for the rest of his life. He couldn't just stand there and watch Wes Carrington verbally abuse his boyfriend. Shaking from head to toe, insides feeling as if they were twisting themselves into so many knots he might not be able to eat for a week, Lucas shoved his way through the remaining people and planted himself right between Wes and Johnny, instantly getting up into Wes' face, "You wanna bump into me?" Trying to sound as threatening as possible, Lucas dropped his bag to the ground and cracked his knuckles. They were suprisingly loud, and Luke almost looked down at them, taken aback at how much they actually cracked. Whatever. His eyes didn't leave Wes', and after a moment he threw the Slytherin a dangerous smile, scoffing and shaking his head, "And you know, I wouldn't flatter yourself so much." He could hear them already, people were staring at him, whispering. He was never going to be able to take this back, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. This was going to have to happen eventually. What better reason to come out than defending Johnny? The thoughts rang through his head, but really he wasn't paying much attention to anything other than Carrington's eyes, ones that he'd glared into on many occasion at the Quidditch Pitch. 'Just another match. Just another game.' Lucas stared him down, the quivering in his stomach starting to settle as he gained confidence, "He's really not into the pale, pathetic type." Shrugging, Lucas crossed his arms over his chest, drawing himself up to his full height and narrowing his eyes with a small smile, "Carrington, I already humiliated you on the Pitch last year in front of everyone. You really want me to do it again?"

[/blockquote]

[khai]

This seriously made me cry. Happy gay boys <3

"How could you be so fucking stupid?"

The words were whispered, and the moment they left his lips he nearly regretted them. Except they needed to be said. Why would Lucas do something so stupid? So completely unnecessary? Johnny wasn't angry, just confused. Maybe even a little worried. Still, he just couldn't make sense of this. Why would Lucas throw everything they had built up away in one fleeting moment? It wasn't like it was the first time Johnny had to deal with an asshole, and it definitely wouldn't be the last. So, why did he do it? What propelled him to do something so-- so fucking stupid? "How could you be so stupid?" He repeated, shaking his head and pressing their lips together, then. Because another thought had occurred to him, and he needed to get it out before he lost his mind. He was thinking too much. Fuck, he just needed to stop, but-- "How? Why? Lucas--" but he couldn't finish that thought, pressing their lips together again. He wanted to throttle him. He wanted to hold onto him forever. He wanted to throw him backwards onto that desk and have his way with him. God, Johnny couldn't get enough of this boy and had too much of him at the same time and it was crazy to think about just how much he loved him.

He pulled away from Lucas, then, pulling his face back to really take a look at him. Did he really? Could he? So soon, so fucking fast and without any-- and then, it was right there. Burning in those gorgeous brown eyes that make him melt, Johnny saw it. The truth.

He was madly, completely, and irrevocably in love with Lucas Juarez.

So he smiled, despite the insecurities that he couldn't shake off. Despite the feeling that Lucas regretted this, despite everything that was trying to pull him down, Johnny grabbed onto that little strand of hope and truth and love and soared above all the shit they just fell into. He brought his face back, then, kissing Lucas softly one more time, gently, meaningfully, lovingly. He pulled away, then, his fingers sweeping up to slide across Lucas' cheeks. I love you, he wanted to say, but, "Thank you," is what came out instead. In time, he figured.

Because, in that moment, Johnny felt like they had forever.

[alicelogan]

From ' - you stole + '

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Truth be told, Narcissa Black feared very little.

Truth be told, Narcissa Black feared going back to school in the fall.

Or perhaps ‘fear’ was not the appropriate term for the emotion she was currently experimenting. She prided herself in being above such things as anxiousness and nervousness, even fear, eighty percent of the time, but when she found that everything that once backed her up was disintegrating before her very eyes, the shards falling around her in glittery pieces…Narcissa Black was experimenting something very akin to fear. She’d known a day like this would come, in which most of her allies would have graduated, and she’d be there almost on her own. Then again, she wasn’t sure she wanted them there when they’d—oh so easily—turned the tables and accepted the one person whom she couldn’t stand back into their circle. It seemed ridiculous to believe that she was the only one who could see through all of the utter absurdity that the Black middle sister had concocted. If anything, Narcissa would have had to give her credit for being able to fool everyone into thinking she was making all the right decisions, just like they wanted, but she refused to budge even that much. Still strong on her stance of everything being a veneer, Narcissa hadn’t deigned to even acknowledge the existence of her sister after their abrupt confrontation the day that Regulus had re-introduced her to their ranks. Oh, Annie could gloat as much as she wanted, boasting how she was back on top, and how everything was finally going her way (for once), but Narcissa refused to believe or fall for any of it. Six years of rebuttal could make a weak anyone want to change their mind—and Andromeda wasn’t anything if not weak—but a leopard couldn’t change its spots just as easily as a snake could shed a skin. There was a reason why Andromeda hadn’t been sorted into Slytherin, and it was only a matter of time before that reason shone through with its Reality beam and everyone either hung their heads in shame for their foolishness, or wet back to the pre-established order that Narcissa so adored. Either way, there would be a price to pay. They were involving her in all the plans now, taking her into consideration, and there was nothing that made Narcissa’s blood boil more than that, no matter how much of a distance she tried to keep. This wasn’t about feeling left out, or taking a time warp back to her infancy—this was about the fact that they were sharing with her information that they would regret conveying once Andromeda went back to where she belonged, tail between her legs.

Thanks to her older, dearest sister, these people were going to end up in ridicule. Thanks to her, people who more likely than not were always right were going to be proved wrong, and perhaps that was the worst of it all when you looked at the bigger picture. These were her people, and Annie was going to ruin them all, somehow. She was spreading like an unwelcome infection. Nobody knew what she was doing, or what was going to happen in the end with her, except for Cissa. So it was only logical for her to be the one to stop her. How was a different matter altogether, but she figured that everything would come to her in due time. She wasn’t one who adored patience, nor was she one to stand around loitering, doing nothing as things refused to go her way, but she was a believer that things always happened for a reason, and while she saw no sense in Andromeda happening in her world, she knew that the little Raven was there to play a role in a perfectly scripted play. Personal issues had to be put aside in order to think clearly, orderly and soundly. Otherwise, to do what the others were refusing to do in moments like these. Then again, that wasn’t anything new in the specter. Apparently, that was the role Narcissa had been born to do. Cumbersome and infuriating most of the time, she’d gotten used to it over time. To be the one who analyzed, thought things through more than once until she was absolutely sure that every single perspective had been discovered, to be the sharp minded one, the skeptic. Perhaps it could be considered as a mark, or even a blemish, but above all, Narcissa considered it her best quality. Problems arose when said quality was classified as less than what was worth, even if it was anything but.

Slipping out of bed barefooted, she walked over to her closet and flung the doors open. If her calculations were correct, a house elf was about to be sent to fetch her for the weekly family dinner that her parents insisted they have to keep the family ‘united’ or whatever other nonsense they were concocting. Being the favorite, of course, Narcissa had to keep in mind that she had to please them. Even more so now, that they were more than delighted with Andromeda’s return ‘to the family’. This wasn’t a problem of course, even if her pride was having severe issues with it, the truth of the matter was that even as children, when there were no such things as Hogwarts’ Houses in their midst, Narcissa had persisted as the favorite. So why should things change now? Browsing through the rich textures in her closet, she decided on a summery dress, and pulled it out from the rest. “Isabelle,” she called out as she slipped into it easily. “Dinner’s about to be served, are you ready yet?” she called out again as she put on her earrings and necklace. Where was the girl anyway? The last time she’d seen her was when they’d been talking about nonsense that didn’t deserve to be repeated and after that, Narcissa had drifted in and out of sleep. She could do as she pleased, of course, for all she cared, but the Hufflepuff girl ought to know that everything in this house had its certain risks, no matter how ‘welcome’ she was, or how familiar she was becoming with her surroundings. It was the Black Manor after all, wasn’t it? One couldn’t go about as freely as they wanted. Especially if it was a visitor. Much less a Hufflepuff. Smiling sardonically at her reflection, she finished brushing her hair and sat down to slip on her shoes. Normally, she would’ve summoned a house elf to do all these tasks on her, but today was not the day for it. After all, normalcy was overrated nowadays. It was all about wreaking havoc, wasn’t it? Chuckling at the thought, Narcissa stood up and smoothed her skirt. “Isabelle!” she called more sharply this time when the girl failed to show up. Damn Hufflepuff. She was proving to be more useful than what she’d originally thought, but this was not her home, and it would do well for her to remember that. Opening her mouth to call out her name for the final time, a resounding crack interrupted her. It was the house elf, just in time, as always, sent to escort them downstairs, and where was—“There you are,” Narcissa said as she saw the other blonde appear on her doorway. “We’ve been summoned for dinner, so if you please,” she said sarcastically. “After you.” And with a curtsy that was anything but respectful, she indicated that Isabelle should walk in front of her.

Two weeks into the summer vacations, Narcissa’s family had yet to find a complaint about her youngest daughter’s guest. Aside from the obvious dislike between her and Andromeda—in which Narcissa gloated in, every single day—there was nothing wrong with the girl. Her House was easily forgiven due to her sharp tongue and beliefs, and she had the best of manners. Smirking as she recalled the day Andromeda had found out just who Narcissa was bringing home for the summer, she had to admit that the little girl was proving to be more useful than what she’d originally given her credit for. The decision of inviting her had been spur of the moment, something that she would have never anticipated, and yet, it was proving to be more gratifying than sacrificing. For all she cared at the moment, she could stay and live permanently. It wasn’t as if there weren’t enough things to be entertained in anyway. Smoothing her skirt again just before allowing the house elf to open the two oak doors of the dining room, she stepped up just beside Isabelle as they swung open. Her guest, therefore, her companion. Curtsying—this time with no sarcasm whatsoever—she nodded to her father, mother, even Trix, before walking the distance to her accustomed seat. Skipping Andromeda altogether in her greeting was nothing new, and there was absolutely nothing her parents could do about it. Being the favorite did have its privileges after all. “Good evening,” Narcissa said in general as she took a seat and unfolded the napkin on her lap. Looking up only when Isabelle had taken a seat, she cleared her throat and settled her eyes on Andromeda. “Hi, Annie,” she simpered, finally addressing her somewhat older sister.

Oh, cruel intentions were never so clear.

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Okay, so, this post was amazing. I mean, it's Skar so I guess you really don't need me to tell you how amazing it was but still. It's pretty crazy to imagine that someone is actually capable of writing as good as this is, and it's even harder to imagine that someone could write a character so flawlessly that they seem like a real person. But Skar can. For you see, Skar just is Narcissa Black. Never before have I ever seen someone so capable of playing her, and I doubt I ever will. Skar's Cissa is pretty much the Cissa and I know that everyone would agree with me on that. I mean seriously. XP But anyway, this is just so incredible because it shows intricately how Narcissa is dealing with her sister's return; her misgivings about the future and about her prophecies for what chaos it will bring. But in a sense, Narcissa is also very vulnerable here, because she is afraid that her reputation and the reputation of her family will be ruined by Andromeda's return, which is a perfectly valid complaint, hah (no offense Annie but it's kind of canon *pats* we all love you still). Cissa is so fierce and intimidating though, even when she's feeling vulnerable, and I think Skar did a fantastic job of showing that in this post. Fantastic job, srsly. <3

[Noah Orchard]

Isabelle Laurentine [Kabby] - "It's you I'm without"

Arching one eyebrow in that manner she'd perfected long ago, Isabelle couldn't help but let the sarcasm drip into her voice. "Yeah, 'cause that's so easy," she quipped back dryly, letting her eyebrow drop as she rolled her eyes quickly. She was in a huff, and oh she did she ever know it, but she chose to ignore that fact. "Look, maybe I don't need to find out," she added impatiently, eyes wide with frustration. "Maybe I don't know but that doesn't mean I need to. I mean for Merlin's sake, I'm not some freaking Ravenclaw that needs to know everything!" It was a ridiculous argument if she'd ever heard one - especially as she was normally curious enough to make it completely hypocritical - but hey, what else could she say? It wasn't as if she had much to back her up; it wasn't as if she was even making sense. But that was to be looked over because you know what? She didn't care. She didn't care if she was making sense and she certainly didn't care about whatever two cents Noah had decided to throw in about her father. Did he know him? No. Did he know anything about the situation except for what she'd told him? No. And yet he felt perfectly fine to just hand out his opinions as if he was some freaking mastermind all of the sudden? Ugh, okay, she was officially through with trying to make sense because it definitely wasn't working but Isabelle was far too exasperated with the situation to worry about the fact that her thoughts were flying off the tracks. "Look, I'm going to stay with the Blacks, okay! And my mood is perfectly fine!" She hadn't meant to come off so sharply and she exhaled loudly, pressing her fingers to her temple as she tried to calm herself down. Why did this always happen? Just as soon as things started to go good, they had to explode like this. Just as soon as she started to think that maybe, maybe she and Noah could work out, just as he had her to starting to fall for him... Bam. Explosion. He went and said something or did something, anything and sure enough, it all fell apart. Well... she tore it apart. Because this was her fault, right? And his fault. Both of their faults. Oh, she didn't know. Apparently she didn't know anything these days, did she? No, all that she knew was that she didn't want to talk about this because there was nothing to talk about. It wasn't as if she was going to start questioning everything now just because Noah was expressing some doubts. She was doing this and that wasn't up for debate, no matter what he thought. Because what Noah thought? It really didn't matter, did it?

Except he was her friend, as he'd just reminded her. So then what he thought did matter, didn't it? Well... too bad? Yeah, too bad. She didn't care. Except that he had just said that he cared and as much as she wanted to scoff, she could only swallow and glance away, not trusting herself to talk because Merlin knew what would come out of her mouth when she was feeling like this. Feeling all... in one of those Noah-induced moods. The ones that came out of nowhere, the ones that just randomly came over her when he did or said something, the ones that she secretly loved more and more the more she tried to hate them. But ugh, this was getting ridiculous. She couldn't afford to be thinking about this right now. She was mad at Noah. Mad. And then he had to go and say that he cared and say it like that, like a question. A question which made her shiver and made her toes curl in her shoes even if she didn't know what in the world it was asking. He was her friend. That wasn't a question. But it was. And she didn't know what exactly to make of that except. ...Except for the obvious fact that she was over-analyzing it way too much. It was always easier to focus on the stuff that didn't matter - or which maybe mattered the most in a way she just couldn't fathom - and drown the rest of it out. But she glanced back over at him, wondering why he was even bothering to disagree with her. What part of her earlier reaction had made it seem like she was really open to anything that he had to say? What in the world made him think that he was going to get anywhere? She found herself raising one eyebrow again, skepticism written all over her face. It was hard enough for them to even agree on whether or not they were friends and yet here he thought he 'knew' her or whatever? Ridiculous. Completely and utterly-

"...and sure, I don't know quote, 'old' you but who cares? That's not who you are, this is who you are, and I know a lot more than you think."

Damn it. Damn Noah, once again. Because when had anyone else ever said that to her? Amory used to talk about the 'old' her being the 'real' her and Rose simply saw her as being the same person - which was also quite the amazing feat, and one that she was more than grateful for - but here was Noah, saying that he didn't care at all about who she used to be, only about who she was now. And that was something that Isabelle didn't think she had ever heard from anyone. And of course, it had to come from Noah. It had to be Noah with all the right words, it had to be Noah to say something that would leave her speechless as he went on. And of course, because it was Noah, it only had to get worse from there on. Or well, maybe better was a more apt description but then again, she was stubborn and didn't want to be proven wrong. All the same, none of the usual sarcastic retorts came to mind as she sat there, listening to him and shaking in her seat with a mix of anger and a nervousness for something that she wouldn't have even been able to name. She was 'sooooo' insecure, was she? Words were on the tip of her tongue, ready to argue back, to deny his claims but she just... she couldn't. She couldn't say a word. And the absolute worst part? The absolute worst part about what Noah was saying was that if she had have finally been able to be honest with herself, she would have been forced to admit that it was true. Everything he was saying, about Darley, about setting herself up for her problems, it was all true. He did know her. He knew her better than she ever would have guessed and maybe, just maybe, he knew her better than she even knew her herself. And that?

That scared the hell out of her.

She nearly jumped out of her seat as he smacked his hands down and continued to stare at him even when he'd turned his head, trying to formulate some kind of coherent response to everything that he had just said. But what sort of response could possibly reply to all of that? She didn't have a clue what to say. She was running out of time as the bus continued along its way, getting closer and closer to the Blacks' and yet, she didn't have a clue what to say. She could only lick her suddenly-dry lips and clear her throat, jut her chin out a notch, open her mouth and... "You're wrong." Of course. The second the words left her, Isabelle felt a pang of remorse but she forced herself to think of anything else instead. This was for the best. Noah... he was getting too close. He knew her too well and she couldn't deal with that. She couldn't very well just say that yeah, he'd hit the nail on the head and was he happy now? No. She pressed her lips into a tight line and turned away, hating that she felt so cowardly in that moment. Because of course, all she could think about now was turning back and saying anything else. Taking it back, telling him that he was right no matter how stupid she would sound, admitting that she really was that messed up, apologizing over and over... Oh but who was she kidding? She could imagine as many scenarios as she wanted that ended up with her and Noah on good terms again - or maybe more but no, she wasn't going to go that far - but in the end, there was no way that any of them were going to happen and she was just making it harder by pretending they actually had a chance. Pretending that she and Noah had a chance. Because yeah, Noah had been spot on when he'd said that she set herself up for her own problems but that didn't change the fact that she was still stuck with them. And it didn't change the fact that there was no way in hell that she would ever be brave enough to even consider admitting to Noah that he was right. It was always easier to pretend that problems didn't exist and this wasn't going be any exception.

Besides, with the way that he was glaring at her now as he swiveled back around to face her? Didn't seem like anything she could have said would have fixed things. Isabelle nearly flinched, no matter how much she deserved the glare. "I know they can change," she huffed, even as he continued on. Duh, she wasn't a moron. But just because she knew that people could change, it didn't mean that she had to like it when they did. And it also didn't mean that she had to believe everyone's story of change. It didn't mean that she had to believe Noah's story of change. Because sometimes people were just wrong. Right? ...Right? She flinched for real then, just as the bus attendant screeched out the stop and she realized that they had arrived. Narrowing her eyes at Noah, she stood up suddenly, yanking her trunks with her. "Right," she agreed icily. "Well fine then, Noah. Go 'be something more' and see if I care." That was what this was all about, wasn't it? He was practically confirming every worry she'd had. He was going off to 'be something more' and where did that leave her? Back with all the lower lives he was trying to get away from? Well gee, thanks. Except that when he spoke again, his voice was softer and as much as she tried to keep her icy composure, she felt it slipping away. Isa. Isa. Damn Noah for calling her that, what no else called her, what she didn't let anyone else call her. Damn Noah for being the exception to far too many things. Her exception, always. Damn him. Especially for having a point. But she wasn't going back. She'd made that clear already and it didn't matter what he said or what he thought. She didn't even know what he was to her anymore. Or what she was to him. And so even though there were so many other things that she could have said, she found herself settling for simple all over again. "I'm not going to regret it," she said quietly, turning on her heel and starting to stride down the aisle of the bus purposefully. Fuck, she just wanted to get out of here and pretend that none of that last part of their conversation had every happened. A few steps away though, she turned back, a half-smile on her face. "See you later, Noah." She forced the smile a bit more and then turned around again, walking as fast as she could until she'd reached the front of the bus and could disembark, dragging her clunking suitcases down after her. And then the bus took off and she was left standing there all alone. She should have been happy to be getting everything that she wanted but well... it didn't feel like that, did it? No, it didn't.

Not when what she really wanted was still on that bus and speeding away as fast as he could.




KABBY IS SOOO GOOD! I think she really develed deeply into her character and nailed her emotions. It seems like she understands Isabelle far better than Isabelle understand herself, and this post just tugged on my heartstrings. I'm biased obviously because I was in the thread with her, but I just love everything about it. She pumps out really long posts because she describes not just her characters' surroundings but her internal thoughts, which is far more complex than Isabelle lets on. She lets the reader come to know her character too. I especially like the way she worded everything so nicely, it made things very dramatic. Good job Kabby, if possible I love Isabelle even more!

[khai]

Can I just say that I love this line? 'Cause I do.

[/color]

With one last whisper of her name in her ear, Wes was lost, giving her the roughest and most perfect apology he could give her.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

Woo Biz <3

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[isabelle]

Yes, I'm biased. OH WELL. Even despite how much it made Isabelle squeal - something which she is totes denying btw but IT SO DID *coughs* - this was just such a great post. Tis no secret that I love Noah and I thiiink I just fell in love with him all over again because seriously, how can you not? It's got a ton of insight, is just as funny as always, portrays Noah so so oh so well and it's amazing <3 It just really shows Noah trying to deal with his feelings and temptation and like he's trying so be changed and be this good guy and it's so cute even as it's not working and I just think it shows so much of Noah, even like the very beginning mark just has that trademark Noah funniness and like after that I mean, you just really get him in this post, if that makes sense? Like idk, it's hard to explain but it just really shows off the best of Noah Orchard, me thinks <3 All obliviously insightful haha and just like slkaslass;ds'sdsdskj TOTALLY CUTE and I dun care if I'm totally biased IT WAS AN AMAZING POST XD

---

The question wasn't, 'what was wrong with this room', it was, 'what isn't wrong with this room?' It was stuffy, lacked taste, and had an inadequate supply of air. He felt castrophobic in a room twice the size of his aunt's apartment. That's just not right. The Blacks' taste was....high society, aristocratic, and of course, dark. His museum suggestion didn't hit that far off of the mark. He felt like there should be poles and a big red ribbon draping off her bed. Do not sit here, do not touch that. It was the guest room, and if they had been anyone but the Blacks, he would cut them some slack and say they kept it as professional as possible because their guests have different preferences. But the Blacks, they matched everything to how they wanted it and didn't take into consideration other people, so this is definitely what they liked. It matched the rest of the house as well, yet somehow still managed to be worse. Bedrooms were supposed to be....fun. Have character. Instead, the guest room had a dangling chandelier above the bed that reminded him too much of a muggle horror film. Knowing them, it must have descended from a great great, so and so who did blah, blah blah. An equally stuffy story for an equally stuffy place. Noah's room in his aunt's flat was small but brimmed chuck full of memorabilia. Tickets to the Quidditch world cup, a surf board hanging from the ceiling, lava lamps, funky rugs, a poster of a hot girl. Everything to make his pad look cool. If you thought that was loud you should just see his room in California. This was just uninspiring and deadening. "Those lights are sucking out all the fun in the room. I wouldn't turn them on too often, I think it's what sucked out the Blacks' souls. You could turn into one of them." I'd make sense why they were so bloody gloomy. He smirked after widening his eyes for a horrified expression.

So she was in one of those moods again. A mood that wouldn't agree to a word that came out of Noah Orchard's mouth. No, seriously, he could have said the sky is blue today and she'd say something like, 'it's actually aqua which is not the same thing at all.' It wasn't that bad, if it bothered him that much he wouldn't talk to her. Actually it intrigued him. There were not very many girls who insisted on picking a fight with him; who disagreed because they could, and whom still wante to see him from time to time. You either hate him, or you don't, that's how it had always been. And yes, at first she had hated him, but that changed. Becauuuuse, as he had said before people can change. Why Isabelle had changed herself from who she used to be. Obviously, it happened, and it wasn't magic. It was life. "Well, it doesn't really matter either way." It wasn't his bludger that was professional signed. Actually it would make him feel a little better if he was wrong, that the Blacks didn't have what he thought they did. They were just so rich. It was gross. Rich people were gross. Gag. Isa's legs settled on his lap. Noah wasn't thinking, Noah was buzzed. Noah's hands ran over her bare feet and legs, his fingers softly tracing up and down the skin. She had pretty legs, and that's all it took. He was a goner. Why was she doing that? Trying to prove a point no doubt. Another obstacle set in his way. He wasn't sure why, he'd already messed up with someone less tempting to him. This wasn't...necessary. But it was oh so very welcome. Noah stuck his head forward, replying "Well if we be real quiet...." he dropped off the end of his sentence and laughed, wondering how far Isabelle would go with it. With little concern and much less effort, Noah held up an arm to defend himself against the pillow. "You can't have a pillow fight when the other is defenseless. It's a rule." Maybe. How would he know? Orchard having a pillow fight? Yeah, right. He'd watch one, between girls. That he would do.

And.....this was unexpected. Isa's face was an inch from his, staring at him. Noah stared right back. His hands stopped running down her legs and he didn't move, testing her. He recalled the last time this had happened. They were in The Three Broomsticks, Noah was dancing with her and both of them were so pissed drunk they could have been walking backwards and not have known the difference. They slowed down, Noah leaned in and then he kissed her. And then he'd acted like some geek who'd never been on a date before and took off. And here they were again. Except this time, it wasn't happening. No this time Noah was just testing the waters to see what she was up to. Because he wasn't kissing, oh no. He was supposed to be behaving, and all the other miserable things that came with it. He was just waiting to see.....and then she planted one on him. Her lips were soft, like he'd remembered, and just as quickly they were gone. Okay...He'd almost asked what was the matter, and then remembered he was the matter. And maybe he just shouldn't open his mouth because right now he was craving that feeling, the feeling of her lips on his. It was best to keep his mouth out of it. Ha! Ha? Ha what? Noah narrowed his eyes as she unwound herself and hopped off the bed, a triumphant smile on her face. You've been drinking, haven't you? His eyes were like slits now, and he sighed irritatedly. How did he know she had some alterior motive?Look at her, all smug and proud of herself. Noah shook his head and looked away. "Oh so, it was like a glass. I'm buzzed, that hardly counts. Besides I was having a really, Really bad day." Crappy justification, but in this circumstance there was really no good excuse. It was better than none. Or he could fess up, but that would admit defeat. Noah made some noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a combination of a grunt and a snort. "So much for change. And now we're even.

Oh they were hardly even. He gave her a look that was more paranoid than anything else. That was all she was going to say? No victory lap, no lecture on willpower. He remembered why he liked friends, they didn't tell you off like family did. They felt little need to. They just wanted to be right. They wanted to tease you and make you think they were coming onto you to get their way. Huh, sounds like a very Noah thing to do. Look who was rubbing off on Isa after all. Noah glared at her, and the glare turned to determination. He'd failed for the day, for the week probably. He hadn't been doing what he'd planned on. Might as well do what he wanted for the rest of the day. Noah jumped off the bed and marched straight toward Isabelle, who in that short time had crossed the room and put distance between them. In vain, he might add because he narrowed the distance in less than three seconds. He put one hand on the wall behind her and used the other to cup her face and roughly kiss her on the lips. He savored the taste he'd been denying himself every time he saw her and just went with it. Noah made it last before withdrawing just as abruptly, a twinkle in his eye. "No, now we're even."

[alicelogan]

from 'control your poison b a b e'

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Lily Evans was broken.

It wasn't really a surprise. Or it shouldn't be. Lily Evans had been broken for a while now. She was just good at hiding it. It was all too easy. Keep a smile on your face, keep your head down, and keep saying those magical words - "I'm fine". Because if you say those two words enough times, people start believing you. Because if you say those two words, you might start believing it yourself. Perhaps that was why it had taken Lily to figure out that she wasn't just a mess - no, she wasn't just a mess. She was so much more than that. She was broken. Completely. Utterly. Broken. Her spirit, her soul, her heart...everything. Just everything. And for a while, insisting that she was fine had been working. Perhaps because Reg had been there, too. As much as she loathe to admit it, she'd taken comfort in his presence. Because he'd wanted her. He might've had his own screwed up reasons as to why, but he had wanted her anyway. He'd made her feel wanted - he'd made her feel something other than the pain of knowing the person who could've been the best thing that ever happened to you, the person you were in love with, wanted nothing to do with her - and not only that, but he was also in love with someone else. Regulus had helped her forget that fact. Whether he wanted to or not (she highly doubted he did, but that didn't matter), he was the barricade against everything that hurt her - namely, James Potter and Marlene McKinnon. Or he had been, at least. Until today. Until he decided he was going to break up with her. Until he told her that he was, apparently, in love with someone else. Someone different. Please. That just meant she was better than Lily. And just like that, the wall disintegrated. Lily was suddenly on her own. She suddenly had to deal with things on her own without leaning on anyone. Alice couldn't help. Olivia couldn't help. Regulus couldn't help. Hell, even Remus couldn't help. No one could. No one. She had to depend on herself for once, and she was failing ever so beautifully - and she hated it. Lily had always prided herself in having a strong character - she was Lily f*cking Evans. She was Head Girl, she was top of her class in almost everything, she was the teacher's pet, she was the best. And yet, here she was. Broken and unable to depend on herself. That was what had become of Lily Evans extraordinaire.

Lily Evans was careless.

That shouldn't be too surprising, either. When a person hits rock bottom, they pretty much stop caring about...well...everything. And Lily Evans was at that rock bottom at the moment. She'd been slightly above it when Reg had been there for her - well, that was a stretch, but still- and now she'd hit the bottom of the barrel. Again. Except this time, there was no one to get her out of it. Which was exactly why she had ditched her Head Girl duties for the night - she highly doubted James would even noticed. She forgot all about the homework that was due during the next few days that she had yet to start. Forgot about her promise to Alice of "saying one good thing about her day" because, frankly, there was absolutely nothing good about today. She was completely and utterly carefree tonight. Well, in the sense that she didn't care about anything she normally would - like curfew and all the other aforementioned subjects. None of that seemed to matter in the light of her...circumstances. Hah. Circumstances. What a funny way to put it. It made it sound so much less than it actually was. Made it sound almost...normal. And there was nothing normal about Lily right now. Because Normal Lily would be doing her patrols. Because Normal Lily would not be out on a school night. Because Normal Lily would not be at the Hog's Head ordering firewhiskey. Because Normal Lily wouldn't be chugging down said alcoholic drink. No, today was not a day for Normal Lily to be around. Instead, it was Careless Lily - and she wasn't sure if she liked this Lily very much. No, actually, she was pretty much certain that she didn't like this Lily. Because this Lily was the one that got her into this mess in the first place. This Lily was the one who blurted out that she was in love with James. This Lily was the one that had agreed to go along with the idiotic relationship formed between her and Regulus-effing-Black. The real Lily would've never let her life spin so out of control. The real Lily would not be sitting here on a bar stool, contemplating how badly her life had become screwed up in just a matter of weeks. The real Lily wouldn't have all these questions - the real Lily would have answers. The real Lily wouldn't be letting her grades slip. She felt like she'd lost touch with the real Lily. And, unfortunately, she wasn't thinking clearly enough to want her back, let alone to try to get her back. No, because thinking of real Lily only made it that much clearer that she was lost. And this Lily? This Lily didn't want to think about that.

Because thinking of all her life's problems was so much easier than accepting the fact that she wasn't acting herself because of said problems. Only, it wasn't. Who would've thought it? Thinking about things put things into perspective. If she thought about her problems long enough, of how broken she was, she'd end up reaching that realization - that she was no longer acting like the Real Lily. And that scared the hell out of her, so she didn't think. But because she was Lily Paige Evans, she needed something else to stop her thoughts. And that? That was where the Hog's Head came in. That's where the ditching her duties and homework and friends came in. That's where the firewhiskey came in. Because it was easy to forget about everything when you were drunk. And drunk Lily was - or she was getting there, at least. It wouldn't be long now. She'd had two glasses of alcohol and she was already starting to feel light-headed. No surprise there. She'd been drunk once before in her life - with the end result being her ending up with Regulus, in a way. Nothing good came out of becoming drunk alone. Everyone knew that. Hell, even she did, deep down. But did it stop her? No, of course it didn't. Because Alice wasn't here, because Regulus wasn't here, because Remus wasn't here, because James wasn't here. But alcohol was here, and she needed it, because she wasn't strong enough to take care of herself. Because all that crap she'd always been thinking about being strong enough to cope on her own, that she'd never let anything hurt her, that she was bigger than that - it had been just that. Completely and utter crap. She needed someone, she always needed someone. And because there was no someone, she turned to the next best thing; the weapon that people used to forget. To let go, to let loose, for one night, just one night. Just numb the pain, even if it didn't last long. She knew she'd regret it in the morning. She knew the firewhiskey burning down her throat wasn't going to fix anything. That it would all come back to haunt her in the morning. But it was helping her now and at the moment it was all that mattered. And so she ordered another drink, and another. On her fourth, she began hiccuping, once or twice, a giggle following after. Her red locks spilled around her, a complete mess. She was wearing possibly the shortest dress she owned - black, to match her mood, and hit mid-thigh. Not the most scandalous thing the Hogs Head had seen, probably, but it was the most fitting to the scene, or so she thought. It didn't matter anyway. She'd barely been conscious of what she was putting on when she'd picked it out. All that mattered was that she was here, and the firewhiskey was a-plenty. She snorted at the thought of her parents asking what she spent her allowance on this month. She could just see how that conversation would go. "Oh yeah, mum, dad, I spent it getting drunk in the Hog's Head. Why? Well, because I run away from all my problems and apparently need to depend on other people or things to help me through things." God, that was pathetic. She was pathetic. She'd never been this way. What had happened? Oh, she knew the answer to that. James Potter had happened. Just the name made her cringe and she grabbed her glass once more and took a long gulp, the golden liquid trickling down her cheek, dripping from her chin. She wiped it away carelessly and swayed on the spot, letting out another hiccup.

Lily Evans was drunk.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

'Kay, so, Alice insisted that the first thing I say about this post is that she is and was horrified by Lily's behavior and finds that it is irresponsible and that she only wishes she was there to intercept the awful things that she is 100% sure that Carrington boy will do to vulnerable!Lily. But ANYWAY. On to the actual compliment. xD Wow, Jooj. I mean, wow. This post was fantastic! I think it really showed well how clearly Lily has fallen from grace, and not only that, it illustrates just how angsty she's become and how much she's let herself go. It showcases that tendency for every human being to hit rock bottom, to be so fed up with life that they just want to escape it. And drinking is Lily's method, which is a perfectly realistic response to grief as well, and which some people here may be able to identify with (though the prude in me says hopefully not). XD Jooj's way of writing is always so enjoyable and so clear and so much fun and I knew that as soon as I saw a Lily post that I had to go read it 'cause I mean it's Jooj we're talking about here. (: She's really got a knack for expressing human emotions, and such a wide range, too! And I know that everyone here on this site loves her for it. <3 *hugs* Awesome work, Joojie!

[rabastan]

- - - Back to the Start.

WHAT DOES THIS MEAN.

Izzy hates Severus Snape but Fief makes Izzy like Severus Snape and that is unacceptable. It's a whole three posts. Go read it. You can thank me later. BWAH just brilliance. That is all I have to say. Thank you and goodnight.

[Lily Evans]

the count d o w n

Okay so you guys should read this WHOLE thread - like seriously, the WHOLE thing, which isn't much yet but I just know it's just going to keep getting better and better. I might be a bit biased since I love Isabelle and Noah and Isaboah Noelle so much and think Kels and Kabby are like awesome RPers, srsly, but seriously. Just go. Read. It. Like. Now. I command you!!!

Oh and I'd just like to point out that this post by Kabby was just awesome. And not because it was OMGSUPERDUPERLONG or anything, but because you could totally FEEL Isabelle's confusion and hurt and all her emotions and I was starting to tear up and wanted to scream "NO YOU ARE WORTH IT ISABELLE, YOU SO ARE!" at the computer screen [except i was at college and couldn't do that because then i would've probably been shipped to the mental's hospital...but anyways]. So yeah. Loved it:

make it through the fall
make it through it all

Maybe it didn't always have to hurt so much. Isabelle knew that she would never just "get over" what had happened, the pain was never going to go away completely, but maybe there were different levels to how much it had to hurt. It wasn't always this bad, after all. But that was because she ran away from whatever hurt her, she cheated. And then eventually it would all catch up to her and then this happened. It all came spilling out too fast to control and she reacted by trying to take back that control in whatever way she could. So maybe Noah really had been right. She shouldn't have been trying to forget everything. Did she really even want that? Did she really want to one day look back at her childhood and find herself incapable of remebering what her mother had been like or what sort of person her brother had been? Simply because it hurt less? Because that would hurt too, maybe even more. Already, some things were slipping away. There would be moments where she tried to remember what her's mother's laugh had sounded like and just... couldn't. And then that crushing realization that she couldn't remember even the smallest details about someone so important would set in and she would do something stupid, as if she needed to prove that she didn't care and it didn't matter. But it did matter. And she did care. They were dead and they were gone and they weren't coming back. Ever. But that didn't have to mean that she couldn't remember them. Right? Oh, she didn't know what to think anymore. To remember or to forget. They both hurt. But everything hurt. Life hurt. So maybe the real trick wasn't to avoid that hurting but to find a way to live with it. Because she was alive. Despite the fact that it could have easily been her that died too in that accident, despite the fact that she still didn't know why she'd lived and not them, despite the fact that she couldn't help but feel like she should have died, despite so many things - she was still alive. She couldn't change the fact that they had died in the accident and she couldn't change the fact that she had not died. She just had to live with it. Yeah.

Live with it.

But how was she supposed to do that? Because so far it seemed that the only way she was living with that was by making sure that no one else was ever allowed to be close to her. It was the most bitter of ironies, really. She'd lost any instinct for self-preservation, any will to keep herself safe, any conscience that would whisper in her ear when she was doing something stupid or dangerous. She didn't have that anymore because she simply didn't care enough for her own well-being. So what if she died. She should have died two years ago. So she didn't worry about herself and she just threw herself into one reckless motion after another. But not when it came to people. Not when it came to actual relationships with actual people, not when emotions were involved. Rose was the only exception. Rose was the friend that she'd let back in, that she still kept close because she needed that one link, that one friend, to make sure that she didn't go completely off the edge. Other than Rose, she just pushed people away. Over and over again in the same self-destructive pattern, she pushed people away. Always. So she could think as much as she wanted about how she had no self-preservation instincts remaining. But wasn't they exactly what she employed everytime she refused to allow someone to come close? She was protecting herself from having to go through anything so painful again - protecting herself. Of course, even in this she had to be a hypocrite, it was just too fitting. But that was who she was. She risked herself over and over again because she claimed to not give a fuck but then she never let anyone come too close. Because she didn't want to lose them? Because she was hiding from any possible hurt? Because it was easier? Maybe. Or maybe just because she knew that if they really did come close, they wouldn't be interested in what there was to see. If they really knew her, if they really knew Isabelle Laurentine, they'd see that there was nothing special about her after all. She was just damaged goods, the shell of a former someone else that might have once caught their eye but not now, a person who maybe once upon a time would have been a source of interest but who they would now only wonder why they'd ever given a fuck about. See, she could parade herself off as whoever she wanted. She could act tough, she could act mean, she could act whatever and it didn't matter because she didn't care about anyone. Right? So she thought. Until now. Until Noah had to ask her if it was too late for her to push everyone out, too late to not care about anyone else. About him. And the scariest thing about that was that maybe it was true.

See, if she'd continued with her little "cases", mistake after mistake, Noah would have been another. And if she was numbering these people off by importance, he would have been case one. Not Drake. Drake had been an overreaction on her part, he'd been a catalyst for yet another screw-up. But it wasn't like that with Noah, was it? No, but he was definitely someone else that she'd tried to push away. Tried being the key word, perhaps, because he was still here, wasn't he? Time and time again, and yet he was still right here, even now. Even now, all blackened and covered in ash and looking like he'd been to hell and back... he was still here. Even now. She'd pushed him away so many times, she'd yelled at him so many times, she'd done everything in her power to make it clear that it was stupid of him to like her because this just couldn't work. And he was still here. He was still here because he knew that she did care. Rose knew too. And if she was being honest with herself for once, Isabelle knew too. And it scared the shit out of her. She wanted to just keep pushing people away because that was what she did, that was how she worked. But now here came Noah and he wasn't going to let her do that, was he? No, that wasn't even the real question here. The real question was if she wanted him to let her push him away. The answer should have been yes. It should have been an automatic and unwavering yes. But nothing was that simple. And so Isabelle was left to sit there and stare at him and try and sort of the jumble of feelings she couldn't make head or tail of. And she was scared out of her mind because Noah had nearly killed himself and that idea alone had her shaken to the point that it would have been useless to try and deny that she cared about him. She was still trying to process everything when he turned her arm over, as if he was studying it or something. Why was he still worrying about her? He was the one who could have gotten killed while she'd just been sitting outside all along. He was the one- She couldn't finish that thought anymore, startled as she felt his hand on her cheek. She swallowed, wishing she could stop shaking so goddamn much but that seemed to be an impossible task in this state. He was just staring at her and her eyes hurt from trying to stare back and her head hurt and she squeezed her eyes shut, blinking and trying to make everything come into better focus because it was blurry and Noah was blurry and Noah was angry and there was too much going on and- and- She didn't even know. She didn't even know where her thoughts were leading her anymore, her head just hurt and she hurt and the combination of emotional pain and physical exhaution was proving to be a terrible one indeed. She just wanted to close her eyes and curl back up in a ball and wake up and have this all have been a dream. A nightmare. She wanted to wake up and have never set her house on fire. She wanted to wake up and- No. She didn't want this to be a nightmare because Noah was here and he was saying- sweet Merlin, what he was saying, it was just too much and she was trying so hard to keep her composure, to stop herself from trembling like a leaf caught in a storm but it was just impossible. Impossible.

He had to check. The idiot had to check, just to make sure that she was okay. She wanted to shake him, shake some sense into him. Why? Why couldn't Noah just be like everyone else and realize the simple truth: Isabelle Laurentine wasn't worth it. She wasn't worth fighting for and she wasn't worth this, this heroic display of... she didn't know. But whatever it was, it was just too much. It wasn't supposed to go this way, not for her. Because she was bitter and bitchy and she pushed everyone away. Until eventually they all just left her alone because they came to the conclusion that Noah obviously hadn't reached yet: she wasn't worth it. Everyone came to that conclusion eventually. And she didn't care. That was what she wanted. That was why she had case after case after case of people who'd once been a part of her life and who weren't anymore. And in every single instance, it was her fault. That was what she'd wanted. But Noah was different because Noah wasn't everyone else and that scared her. That terrified her. She sniffed, exhaling a shaky breath and wishing he wasn't staring at her like that. "What was I thinking?" she reiterated, swallowing. "I don't know, Noah." Another dry laugh-sob escaped her. Wasn't that fucking grand? She lit her house on fire and she didn't even know why. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, trying to piece her thoughts together before opening them again. "I was thinking... I was thinking that I'm sick of this. Everything. Hurting. Of pretending that it doesn't hurt, that people don't matter, just pretending. I just-" She cut herself off, inhaling and exhaling uneven breaths. "He changed Keegan's room." Where had that come from? She didn't even know, of course she didn't. She was just talking and stumbling over her words with no control as to what was actually coming out. "It was supposed to be the same but it's an office now and-" She closed her eyes, trying to calm down. "I just wanted- I just... I don't know, okay?" She couldn't think straight, her head hurt. And her eyes were watery and she was still shaking and shivering and she didn't know what else to say. She could only listen to Noah now, saying all these words and his voice still sounded so sore and so dry but she could barely focus on that, only on the words that he was saying because couldn't he see that he was scaring her all over again? Another shudder ran through her as he brushed her hair behind her ear and she knew it had nothing to do with the temperature or even with the fact that she was such a mess right now; it was because of Noah and again, that scared her. For someone who was oh so tough, she just felt like a scared, little girl. Too scared to face the truth, too scared take a chance, too scared to let someone come close... Too scared to admit to herself that she'd already let someone come close. Too scared to admit that once again, it was too late.

Why else would she have tried and tried so hard to push him away? Why else would she have found every possible excuse to be mad with him, to do something that would make him leave for good? Why else other than the fact that deep down she already knew that it was too late, no matter how much she stubbornly refused to believe it. But how could she believe anything but when Noah was sitting here with her now and he was saying all these things that scared her so damn much that she just wanted to hit pause. Because too much had happened in so little time and she could barely wrap her head around everything as it was and now here was Noah and he was saying all these things that left her fucking breathless because she was too scared to do anything that would make her wake up if this really was some ridiculous dream. Or nightmare. Who knew. She didn't know, she could only stare at him and wonder how he'd never come to the same conclusion as everyone else. Because- because- "You have the wrong girl." She couldn't help it, the words just came automatically, everything that she'd been feeling as she tried and tried to take in what he was saying but just couldn't because none of this made sense. "Noah," she started slowly, shaking her head. "This isn't your fault, and what you're saying, what you did, that's not- that's not-" She deflated suddenly, at a loss for words. She didn't know how to make him understand and she hated herself for even trying to make him understand but she couldn't have just gone along with this. She couldn't have just pretended that what he was saying made sense; she owed it to him. But she didn't know what to say other than to repeat herself: "You have the wrong girl," she said softly, her voice shaking slightly, because every single part of her was shaking, she was shaking from head to toe, she was a jumble of nerves and dizziness and sad consfusion and she couldn't take it. And then he was hugging her and he had her in her arms and it was impossible to hold anything in after that. It was impossible to try and stop shaking, it was impossible to pretend that she wasn't crying - tears silently rolling their way down her cheeks - and it was impossible to pretend that she was anything short of falling apart. And when he said "Me too" to her apology, she shook her head against his chest, unable to find the words to tell him that he had nothing to be sorry for. She was the one who was sorry. She'd screwed up over and over and over again. He was amazing and she was the wrong girl. And maybe that was the root of some of those tears. Because she didn't want to be the wrong girl. What he was saying, what he had done, she wanted to that to be for her but for some stupid, stupid reason, she just couldn't make that be true. Because she wasn't that girl, she wasn't the girl that Noah had ran into a flame-filled house for, she wasn't the girl that Noah was staring at like that, she wasn't the girl that Noah was speaking to like that... No, in her head, it didn't just make sense - in her head she was never that girl, she was always the wrong girl.

[Andromeda Black]

this is the one time, this is the one time
that you can't fake it hard enough to please everyone,
or anyone at all, or anyone at all

[/b][/color][/left]

Reaching her arms back, she pulled the zipper up some more. And then it stopped. Yanking it harder, she couldn't seem to get the zipper up. She had like, three more inches to go. And she couldn't - oh no. Oh no, no, no. This dress had to fit. It couldn't not fit. Because she...she was the same size she had been three weeks ago. It fit three weeks ago when she bought it. What had she - no, she hadn't gained weight. Staring in the mirror at her stomach, her eyes widened. Her mother wasn't lying. She looked pregnant. She actually looked like she had a small human growing inside of her uterus. Oh merlin. No. No, no, no, no, this wasn't happening. This couldn't - it must've just been the angle - she turned to the side. Oh no. It wasn't just the angle. She really did look like she was pregnant. With child. Like, four or five months with child. This wasn't happening. Why. Why was this !ucking happening to her. Why did she have to be rooming with Imogen Sauveterre, why did her mother have to be such an insane bitch, and why did this dress not fit. Oh, and why did her mom have to be right? Why did her crazy mother who she'd just screamed at and probably eternally broken the mother-daughter bonds for forever when her mother had been right the whole time? Staring at her body, she stuck her elbows out to the side and stared at her arms. They were fat. Her mother wasn't lying. She had fat !ucking arms. She had a pointed nose. Tears running to her eyes, she stared at her lips. They were too full. Her eyes were too round, her waist wasn't tiny enough, her fingers really were too fat, her hips were certainly much too wide, and those bones weren't sticking out enough, and looking down, she knew her calves were too toned and her thighs were too muscular. Her chin quivered. Tears coming to her eyes, she let out a sob, and unzipped the dress, and pulled it off, staring at her body. Her belly button was off center. Her boobs were too little. What else? What else had her mother said about her? She had mentioned before that she was just plain old fat. And staring in the mirror, Victoria Macmillan knew this to be true. She was disgusting. She was morbid. She was a fatass. Color rose into her cheeks and she stared at herself until she couldn't anymore because it was just so...ugh. She couldn't. Tears streaming down her face, she knew something had to be done. Some sort of...diet. Yes. Maybe she should've worked out more. Maybe...maybe if she didn't eat so much...no, no, she loved eating. She loved it. She loved it so much, she....she couldn't just not eat! That was...no, that was...ugh. She thought about what she had eaten that day. She had bacon, eggs, pancakes and a glass of orange juice for breakfast. Oh, and hash browns. And then for lunch she'd had...what did she have? There was a doughnut in there somewhere too...oh no. That was...that was so much food. So many calories. She'd probably gained weight. Her eyes quickly glanced around the bathroom, trying to find a scale, but there wasn't one. Oh, that was going to annoy the shit out of her. She wanted to know what she weighed. She wondered whether or not they had any at the front desk. She figured if there wasn't one in her room there wouldn't be one in any of the other rooms because they were staying in one of the premier suites. What sort of hotel didn't have a fucking scale, that was...ugh. Whatever. Okay, so they didn't have a scale, and there was nothing Tori could do about it. She thought again about what she had eaten for lunch that day. It was spaghetti. She had effing spaghetti for lun - who knew how many calories was in that! Oh Merlin, she was absolutely disgusting. She wouldn't eat anything at dinner tonight. There was no way she was going to eat anything at dinner tonight because she'd already eaten enough food to fill like, three people.

Three people.

She collapsed on the floor and stared at the toilet. People....had done this before, right? Since she wasn't just not going to eat anything for the rest of her life and be anorexic, she could keep on eating...and...throw it up. Because she liked food way too much to give it up. So she could eat all she wanted and just......barf it. That sounded like a good idea. Throwing up wasn't that bad, anyway. She'd done it enough to know what it felt like. And...it would be worth it. It would be worth those couple of minutes afterwards when your throat and stomach feel all weird and your breath is gross. Being skinny would be worth that. That was what she wanted. Tori wanted to be skinny. Tori wanted to live up to her mother's expectations, because then and only then would her mother love her. And that was what she wanted. Tori wanted her mother to love her and she wanted to feel appreciated and she wanted to feel like she was worth it and she just...wanted...her...to...care. And stop critiquing. And just...start being an actual mother. So if she got rid of all the things her mom was critiquing, they could have a real relationship, couldn't they? They could talk about boys and fashion and friends and all those things that Maisy and Kiki could talk about. And it would be great. And...this...this would be worth it. But...thinking about it, she'd never done it before. She'd never made herself throw up. She didn't know what to do. Still sobbing, Tori reached up and opened the toilet. Oh, thank Merlin they had room service coming in twice a day. She looked into the toilet and sat up a little bit. Reaching her hand up to her mouth, she dropped her jaw and put her fingers in. It couldn't be that hard, could it? She'd just have to get her gag reflex going and she'd be golden. But...Merlin, it was harder than it looked. She pulled her finger back out and let out another sob. She...she couldn't do this. ...No. No, she had to. She opened her mouth again and put her fingers in faster, but she pulled them out again. She couldn't do it. She was going to end up some sort of morbidly obese cow her mother hated and that was just...Merlin. She didn't want to be fat. She just wanted to be pretty. And skinny. She sobbed again, collapsing on the toilet.

This was not happening. This was not happening. This was not happening. This....shit. Shit shit shit, this was happening.

Victoria Macmillan was falling apart.

---

I... I don't even know what to say, Ellie. I'm legitimately lost for words. First off, the beginning of that post was awesome as well, from Victoria thinking about Imogen and everything and then fighting with her mom, gosh, you can't help but feel so bad for her. And also cheer her for her for yelling at her mom, aha. But then when I got this part, like... Wow. When she couldn't zip the dress up, I just felt like this unexplainable, sinking feeling, I knew what was going to happen and it was just, oh gosh, Tori. It's think it's far too easy to either downplay or exaggerate bulimia and other eating disorders in characters and I have to say that this was dealt with so perfectly in this post. All of Tori's thoughts and the conclusion that she came to were all realistically portrayed and it was just gripping and the lyrics suited it so damn well and really kept the mood and I couldn't stop reading and just... God, I just had this pang for Tori, like this poor girl. It was such a new side of her and really, the entire post with amazingly insightful in terms of her relationships with her family, and with Imogen too. And also just about Tori herself and how she thinks. It was amazing, it really was. And then back to end, the part I quoted here... Wow. Again, I just don't know what to say. I can say from my own experience with someone I'm very close with that you really just nailed the whole mindset, you really got it, and I don't think I can even explain how much I appreciate that. From Tori seeing all these things that are wrong with her when they don't actually exist, from her coming to the conclusion that she can't just stop eating but she can force herself to throw it up, and then especially the part with her having trouble actually doing it, and crying, and freaking out... It was perfect. And I love you for that, I really do. It was so so so sad and I felt so terrible for Tori as I was reading, but it was undoubtedly perfect and it made Kabby tear up quite a bit. Like... Again, I just don't know what to say.

Wow.
[/blockquote]

[Andromeda Black]

Omgosh. Omgosh omgosh omgossssssssssh. *SQUEES* OKAY I REALIZE THAT MOST OF YOU ARE GROSSED OUT BUT ANYWAYS. This post... this post was like fucking fantastic. Oh my god. I can't get over it. And I don't care how ridiculously biased I am, I keep reading it over and over again 'cause it's just so AMAZING. Regggggg omgosh. First off, REG AND ANNIE ARE LIKE SO CUTE AND SO TRAGIC AND YEAH -HUFFS- Bahahaha -giggles- But yes, this post. Oh my god. There are so many lines throughout that I just adored, like ahhhh. I've actually underlined my favorite lines bahaha. There were too many to just quote them all here omgosh omgosh. So that's what the underlining is. 'Cause like eeee so many of them were so perfect and so beautiful and just the ENTIRE THING WAS AMAZING. With the flashbacks oh my gosh, LITTLE ADORABLE REG AND THE TWO OF THEM WERE SO CUTE AND HE CRIIIIED AND AND -DIES- I love them so much bahaha. And this post was amazing, with Reg struggling with his feelings, feelings that he "shouldn't" have since she's his cousin and all and the whole struggle, oh my gosssssh, and him about to kiss her and their faces so close together and then him kissing her and not knowing what he's doing and being scared and omg omg omg omg. You're never gonna get me to be able to shut up about this bahaha. We've been planning them for soooo long and I still can't believe that this post is actually up but ahhhhh omg Fief did it wonderfully and it a way that made so much sense, going from their unatually close friendship that's always been there and the feelings he developed from it and how he's disgusted with himself and also wants this so much slkkjgkfsgjgflgkfd. JUST READ IT. AND APPRECIATE THE CUTENESS AND TRAGICNESS AS WELL AS THE "EW, INCEST", MMK? BAHAHAHA THANK YOU. FIEFY, YOU'RE AMAZING AND I LOVE YOU AND I LOVE THIS POST. SO. FREAKING. MUCH.

<333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333

-EXPLODES-

now that you’re gone, feeling like myself again
grieving the things i can’t repair, and willing to. . .

See, the thing of it was that Regulus had always been there for Andromeda. Through the good times, through the bad, through the happy, the not-so-happy, the angry, the loving... yeah, Regulus had seen it all. Except this. With this? He was totally clueless. Sure, he could have helped her if she’d come to him, complaining about Isabelle and about her feeling of a lack of control––sure, he could have helped her if she’d come to him about problems with curse-casting––sure, he could have helped her if she’d come to him just simply to whine about Narcissa. But when she came to him with boy troubles? He had no idea what the hell to say to her. Because, um, hello, Annie, Regulus is a guy too, and it’s not like he pines away at night over Lucius or, Morgana forbid, Severus before he went to bed. And, what was more, Regulus didn’t even pine. He hadn’t ever felt that way before. Sexually, yes. Pining out of lust, yes. But out of love, out of passion? That had never occurred to him before, because Regulus had never been in love. The closest he came to love was with Kariana, and that was only because he felt bad fucking things up with her just the same way as he always did with any other girl. And Kariana had been one of his closest friends. So, there was guilt. But love? Hardly. Every other significant other or crush or bedmate Regulus had had was nothing but a fleeting fancy, and more often than not his fancy was located on their chests. So, really, Regulus was not the expert on love, and Andromeda knew that. And yet, still, she came to him. “Merlin, Meda, would it kill you to come up with some normal problems?” he teased, punching her in the side. But then again, Andromeda had been there for him when he had problems––you know, the few times that Regulus Black ever had problems––and he didn’t want her to view the joking as a dismissal. “Nah, but I mean, I don’t know, Meda,” he said, starting to sober a bit. “There’s always that person that makes things better. That... eh, special friend, or something. But you know, those people come and go. Like for me, my special friend was Kat for a while. But I kinda screwed her over, like you screwed Valo over, not literally I hope, and––” (all right, this analogy was starting to go downhill) “––and one day I hope that she and I will fix things. Not to rain on your parade or anything, but I wouldn’t hold out the hope that you and that dick will ever fix things one day. I mean, he’s a dick. But what I’m trying to say here is that I think you’ll be able to find some other special person, and then Valo won’t even matter anymore.” He pat her head gently, and his fingers lingered in her hair. It was soft and warm and it made him feel all fuzzy inside. Ah, Meda. He missed her, he truly did.

“Meda! Meda, wait up! You’re too fast!” a small, ten-year old Regulus was running across his lawn, a toy crown sliding gradually down his face and obscuring his vision as it came to rest on his nose. A little Andromeda, ten years old too, was running a good ten feet ahead of him, a lovely chiffon queen dress rippling behind her. Her hair was long, and black, just like Regulus had always liked it. It was shimmering in the sunlight of the early afternoon and Regulus had the strange urge to touch it. He always had the strange urge to touch it––but it wasn’t unnatural. Everyone wanted to touch Meda’s hair, it was just so pretty and shiny and perfect. Everyone loved Meda. Regulus probably loved Meda the most, though. She was his age and she was funny and she was pretty and she liked to play with him. Cissa didn’t like playing with him because she was off at the grown-up table getting coddled and Bella didn’t like to play with him because she was snooty and she was a year older than him. But with Meda, it was just right. They liked the same things, played the same games, had the same ideas... they were perfect playmates for one another. And as that sun rose over the horizon and danced on Andromeda’s hair, Regulus felt like everything would always be this way. Like he would always be playing with her, like she would always be in front of him, laughing and giggling and turning her head back ever so slightly and raising her thin upper lip to reveal a toothy grin, just for him. He felt like the sun would always be on her, the grass would always be up to their knees, they would always be ten, and nothing would ever come between them. Nothing. Not even death.

And suddenly, the world changed. They weren’t ten year olds playing kingdom anymore. Hell, her hair wasn’t even brown anymore. It was blonde and short and it bothered Regulus. He loved her long, black hair, because to him, it was what signified the fact that while so many things had changed, at least that had stayed the same. But no, that had changed too, along with everything and everyone else. Andromeda may have been welcomed back into the family after the Sorting Hat fiasco, but that didn’t change the fact that there was still a fissure in the family, perhaps widened by the fact that she was allowed back in it. The whole situation was a disaster––a disaster for everyone in the family. Everyone, that is, except for Regulus. It wasn’t that he was not affected by the entire thing, but rather, that he didn’t allow that to get in the way of how he felt for Andromeda. The way he felt for Andromeda had never changed. It had always been the same, tantalizingly close friendship that Regulus knew would always be available to him when he needed it. That friendship––relationship––that the two of them shared was so vast, so powerful, so immense, that nothing could change or alter it. And so, of course, Regulus had put on a pokerface, pretended to be shocked and astonished and horribly distraught about the fact that cousin Meda had been sorted into Ravenclaw, but in all actuality, Regulus had never held it against her. Hey, it’s not like she was sent to the puffers or anything. She went to the house where the most cunning, shrewd, and talented witches and wizards went. Was that such a terrible thing? Regulus had never thought so. But according to his mother and father, who even favored Andromeda as their favorite niece, this was still a shame upon the family. Because the only other person to carry the Black name who wasn’t a Slytherin was brother fucking dearest––Sirius––and look how that slimeball had ended up. Mudblood sucking with that McKinnon girl, that’s how. Member of the Order of the Phoenix. Mudblood fucking rights activist. That’s how he ended up. And Andromeda? Well, Regulus feared for a while that she was heading down a similar path, but as it turned out, he veered her off that course in the nick of time, and here they were, sitting in his garden, just like old times, and no one was trying to rip her head off and call her a traitor. But things had changed. Things were not the same. They were different. But... Regulus’ feelings for Andromeda had not changed. No, they had never changed. Not even now. But then again. They had never been normal feelings, had they?

“Since you’re the queen, and I’m the king, that means we’re married, Meda.” He’d said it matter-of-factly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to suggest marriage to his cousin. But Regulus was only ten, then, and so was Andromeda, and marriage didn’t matter in the world of fantasy. In Regulus’ young mind, Andromeda sat enthroned upon the garden chair, spools of black hair arrayed carefully over each shoulder, flowing gently to her elbows. Not a curl was out of place. She was wearing a white chiffon shirtwaist like she always did, but in Regulus’ mind, she was wearing a beautiful white wedding gown and a crown on her head, and she was staring at him, her king, with reserved and yet glowing affection. Her tiny red lips were pursed into a smile worthy of only a queen, and her porcelain cheeks glimmered in the sunlight. Queen Andromeda. And when he’d told her they were married, she’d tilted her head back and laughed and smiled and he ran to her and enfolded her in his arms, laughing and grinning along with her. The idea of marriage to them seemed funny, then, and neither was aware of the peculiarity of desiring to marry one’s cousin. Perhaps Andromeda didn’t see it that way. Perhaps she saw it only as a game. But for Regulus, that was different. For Regulus, the idea of wedding her didn’t seem too far off from reality. She was beautiful and he loved her. She listened to him and talked to him and told him things she’d never tell anyone else. He’d listen to her and talk to her and tell her things that he’d never tell anyone else. it was a mutualistic friendship––inalienable––irrevocable––perfect. They were natural, Andromeda and Regulus, and even then, when they were both ten and giggling and rolling around in the grass, they both knew it. And then, when they were through, and later that evening were told to go to bed, he would sneak into her room at night and plant a kiss on her cheek, saying, “Good night, Queen Meda,” before he raced back to his bedroom for fear of getting caught. And, even then, Regulus couldn’t have ignored the electric current that flowed through his veins whenever he’d kissed her cheek goodnight...

Things were different now. Wasn’t that a contradiction of what he’d just said? No. No things were different now, what had he been thinking? Andromeda was different. He was different. Seven years had gone by and things were different. Things had changed between he and Meda and he wasn’t sure they could even go back to the way they were before. No, he didn’t feel physical pain whenever he saw Andromeda––his queen––kissing another boy. No, he didn’t get angry or jealous or moody whenever she was in a relationship with a boy he didn’t approve of. No, he didn’t like to admire how beautiful she looked with her black hair combed straight down her back. No, he didn’t like to observe the way the Hogwarts uniform looked good on her, even though it didn’t on anyone else. No, he didn’t smile when she smiled. No, he didn’t laugh when she laughed. No, he didn’t follow behind her on the way back from Hogsmeade to make sure she got back safely in the dark of the wood. No, he didn’t have the strange urge to call her his queen again. No, his stomach didn’t lurch at the thought of Andromeda getting married and having children and being touched by someone else. No, he didn’t accept the fact that he would one day have to see her off and participate in her wedding and hope to god Sirius wasn’t fucking invited. No, he didn’t believe that she was really in love with this Drake boy––could be in love with this Drake boy––because in his heart he had always thought, or rather, had never foreseen a second presence between them. No, he wasn’t bitter about the fact that she had moved on from their childhood fantasies and he had not. No, he wasn’t in denial about the fact that some part of him, however small, or even, however large, had feelings for her that were beyond what was deemed conventional or normal for human beings. No, he didn’t regret the fact that she wasn’t on better terms with her family so that she could visit more often. No, he didn’t miss the days when he was her knight in shining armor, and she his lovely lady. No, he didn’t want to think about all those things because they were stupid and ugly and horrible and disgusting and repulsive and because he had rejected––hidden––obscured them for so long, that sometimes, he scarcely remembered what forbidden thoughts had entered his mind in the first place.

Except he did. Oh, and did he.

Regulus was thirteen. It was the wedding of some relative and the ceremony was being held at the Black Manor. He was in a small tuxedo and functioned as the ring bearer––Narcissa as the flower-girl, despite his protestations that he would rather it be Andromeda. He had gone to fetch Narcissa to make sure she was ready, for the ceremony was to begin in a short fifteen minutes and some of the girls were adding finishing touches to their hair and makeup in the dressing room that had been erected on the side lawn. He had remembered running up there, shouting her name. “Cissa, Cissa!” he had said. He had been running up the hill of grass toward the white tent where the girls were and as he got closer and closer, he heard more giggling and gossiping, but no response from Narcissa. He had never intended to look into the dressing room––to go into the dressing room. He had never intended to walk in. He had never intended to let happen what happened. But it had happened. A particular gust of wind swept past the tent and the front flap had flown to the side, revealing a small, beautiful girl, who was staring at him fixedly. She was wearing a slip and holding her gown in one hand. The other hand was strung across her chest, preventing her small breasts from being shown. She had obviously just finished her hair and makeup, and was preparing to put on the dress when the gust of wind had unluckily revealed her. It had been Andromeda. That same electric shock jolted Regulus, just as it did three years earlier and they had still been playing king and queen, and he had kissed her cheek goodnight––only this time, it was tenfold worse. Before even staying to see her reaction, Regulus had turned red and spun away in the other direction, hiding for a good twenty minutes in his room. He delayed the wedding by ten minutes, as everyone searched for him on the grounds. But he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop crying. Because he couldn’t explain what had happened to him when he saw her. His cousin. Andromeda.

Why did he feel the way he felt about her?

Regulus stared into those eyes, those soft pools of gray, that had served as a comfort to him, as a solace, all the years that he had known them. He looked into them now, and he took her hands. Her small, clammy, bony hands, enfolded between his bulky, cold, thick ones. And he inched closer to her on the bench, looking at her pensively, trying to search for that answer in her eyes. Why did he feel like this about her? Why did he feel like marrying her was natural? Why did he feel sick after kissing her cheek? Why did he feel such intense guilt and pain and self-loathing after he saw her partially naked? Why did he not care that she was sorted into Ravenclaw? Why did he help her back in the family? Why did he feel like there was always an answer in her eyes? Regulus didn’t know. He didn’t know the answer to any of those questions. Nothing made sense anymore. Everything was twisted and insane and demented and he didn’t know how to fix things. He didn’t know how to make her pain go away. He didn’t know how to make his sudden nausea go away. All of the sudden Regulus didn’t know how to do anything anymore. All that he knew was that Andromeda was sitting so close to him that he could smell her faint perfume and feel her knee on his knee and feel her soft breath on his face and feel her hands quake and shiver and his own quaked and shivered. Something was about to happen. Something grave, something terrible, something bad. But something that, at the same time, had to happen. Something that had needed to happen long, long ago. Something exciting and horrible and forbidden and sweet. And yet... something necessary. Something predestined by fate. Regulus’ stomach lurched and his heartbeat quickened and holy mother of fuck he had no idea what the hell he was doing but his grip on her hands tightened and from his mouth came a forced and tense, “Meda,” that was sort of like an exhale but more like an inhale but oh god he didn’t know and suddenly he was getting closer and his heart was racing and his eyes were widening and oh god, oh god, was it just him or was the world spinning around him at warp speed? He could only see Andromeda’s face, feel Andromeda’s hands, her breath, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as he got closer and squeezed her hands more and more as both his disgust with himself and his sickly sweet anticipation rose. “Oh Merlin, Meda,” he moaned pathetically, hovering over her face. His lips were so close to hers. So close that he could smell her lip gloss. They were a fraction of a centimeter apart and Regulus was so afraid that he’d ceased to breathe. He just kept looking into Andromeda’s eyes and hoping that––hoping that––oh god, he didn’t know what he was hoping for, he didn’t––know––oh––god––

His face rushed forward and crushed her lips, his hands were everywhere at once, he was pushing her down onto the bench and his tongue was everywhere––crushing hers inside her mouth––his hands were everywhere––feeling her body underneath his––feeling that forbidden feeling rising within him––no, roaring within him as he moved slowly across her body, positioning his legs on either side of hers and grinding forcefully into her hips. Oh god––oh god––what was happening––what was happening to him––to them––oh god––this wasn’t right––this wasn’t natural––oh god––but he couldn’t stop––needed––her––oh god––he was still kissing her, still touching her in places cousins shouldn’t touch each other, moaning softly into her ear and crying her name between gasps as his tongue greedily sought hers. Seven years of feelings had erupted all at once and Regulus couldn’t do anything to stop them. He was powerless, he was a slave, he needed her––oh god, he needed her––and now there was nothing that could stop him as he worked over her, feeling his confidence rise as he realized that the garden was far enough away from the house that no one could see them, no one would know, no one would find out what had happened––hear them––see them––know––what they had done. Oh god. Oh god. His adrenaline picked up and his heart was racing and his face was flushed and he couldn’t control himself. He was like a fucking animal and he––he just––couldn’t––stop––and she was so fucking, so damned, so unfairly beautiful that he––he––he couldn’t––because––because––seven years––he––had––wanted––this––and––he––couldn’t––stop––oh god––oh god––what was he doing?––what were they doing?––why did this happen?––why? But he couldn’t think, couldn’t focus, couldn’t react to any of this because it was all happening so fast and because he wanted this so fucking badly that he wasn’t going to think to jeopardize it. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe he was sliding his hand up her shirt and touching––touching––things he shouldn’t and he couldn’t believe that he was unbuttoning his pants and still holding her face and still crushing her with his mouth and still touching her and oh god––oh god––oh god––

He couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop.

And he was so scared.

[/blockquote]

. . . let you blame it on me

[Regulus Black]

okay, so, let it be known to all of ISS that fief? well, fief has a bit of an unhealthy obsession fascination with incest. okay, i know it's creepy but hey, this is the same mind that came up with regulus so of course it's creepy. but ahem. anyways. that's beside the point. the point is that this post? has incest. and therefore fief is biased. she is also biased because her charrie is participating in the incest but sshh kabby does such an amazing job of portraying annie's range of emotions––i mean, the flashbacks were adorable and really served to illustrate her feelings for reg, and like....fkhnlfkhnklfd it's just so freaking cute. i love annie and i love this post and i love this thread and EVERYONE NEEDS TO READ IT NAO. kthanxbai.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

with a broken heart
that's still beating

A constant. It was a funny concept - almost laughable to Andromeda. It seemed as if she was constantly oscillating between these two worlds, her life changing and reshaping itself along with her mindset. Perhaps that was a bit hyperbolic, but after having to suffer through the past few months, she figured she was allowed a little exaggeration. The whole point of the matter was that somewhere along the way, everyone had always deserted her. Or she them. The end result was the same, though - a friend lost, a relationship shattered, back to square one. And yet throughout these messy seven years? Throughout being Sorted into the wrong house, throughout being shunned by her own family, throughout Bellatrix's withdrawal, throughout having to recreate herself and find new companions, throughout her last-ditch effort to win her sister's affections back, throughout the chaos and headaches of it all... Perhaps there really had been a constant. It seemed laughable to suggest that such a thing could exist throughout all those changes of loyalty and decision. That someone could have really stuck around, could have always been there for her throughout all those years. Absurd, in theory. And yet... not so absurd, because it was true. Regulus had always been there for her. Regulus always would be there for her - he was her Always. Yes, Always. Because the mere thought of one day not having him there, not being able to depend on him with the utmost trust and confidence, not being able to pour out whatever worries she had to him, not being able to just know that he was out there and he loved her and she would always have him... It was so fucking terrifying that she tried to never think about it. Losing her friends, cutting ties with them - that had been hard enough. That had been so damn hard for her to do, and the emotional consequences were still there, buried in her psyche and ready to be released on days when she felt particularily depressed. Losing her sister had been even worse - the worst experience of her young life, without doubt. And the thought of losing Bellatrix again, yes, it was more than frightening. It was something that Andromeda would fight with tooth and nail to avoid, something that simply could not happen. But the thought of losing Regulus? Well, that was a whole new level of fear. A level that she didn't wish to contemplate, that she hoped to never have to contemplate. Exactly. Of course she would never have to contemplate such a blasphemous - for indeed, it was blasphemous - thought. Never. Because she would always have Regulus, because he was the only person in the world who made her believe in 'forever'. After all, she reflected bitterly, he was the only person that would be there for her forever, when everyone else grew sick and tired of all the illusions and stopped caring. Regulus would never do that, though. He'd proved that he would always care, always be there for her, always always always. So that was who he was to her.

He was her Always.

Andromeda was six years old. She had only turned six years old a few days ago and now she was the same age as Regulus again and she liked that. Today was her official birthday party, though. Today was the day that all of the family and all of their friends had been invited over to their house - no, their Manor, that was what everyone called it - to celebrate the fact that she was six years old. Five year-old Andromeda was no longer - already, she felt eons more mature than her former self. Regulus could no longer boast about being older, since she was six too. And in her young mind, six was six was six. If they were both six, they were the same age again, like they were supposed to be. And who would disagree with her on her birthday? Or at least, her birthday party day. Regardless, no one would. Not even Mommy and Daddy. They'd made sure the house elves decorated the house and the yard beautifully for her birthday. Fairy lights hung in the air throughout the garden, though she didn't take much notice of them as she skipped around, laughing, being pulled away from her friends occasionally by her parents to greet arriving guests. But then she was allowed to dash back to the little fountain where the other kids were gathered. Bella was there and Cissy was there - seeming to be sulking since she wasn't the center of attention for once, but Meda couldn't have cared less - and Lucius was there, and Rabastan was there, and Rodolphus was here too but off somewhere else, and Sirius was there, and of course, Regulus was there. And she winked - something she'd only recently mastered - at her cousin as she skipped back over, announcing to the group of kids that it was time for a game for a hide and seek. "Cissy can be it!" she stated rather meanly, giggling. Cissy was still barely five and she was the youngest but it was Meda's birthday so she got to boss them all around if she wanted. And she did want to where her little sister was concerned. Even if it meant that the game might drag on terribly long while they all waited for silly Cissy to find them. But at least her parents wouldn't throw a fit about Cissy being excluded. Meda was including her just fine - Cissy just had to be it. And she stuck her tongue out at her little sister, caught Bella's eye and giggled again, and then dashed off.

Everyone else followed suit, leaving Cissy to count to one hundred. Well, they were supposed to count to one hundred. Cissy could just count as high as she could. Which meant that they probably didn't have much time. Meda had hitched up the skirts of her fancy dress as she dashed down the garden path, heading further away from the house and the party. But she wasn't the only one. As she glanced over her shoulder and spotted Reg, her face lit up and she stopped, grabbing his hand when he got near and pulling him down with her as she crawled into a bed of tall flowers. Some got trampled - and that was precisely why they weren't supposed to play in the flowers but Meda didn't care about that right now - but they continued crawling until they were obscured by the ferns. Wriggling to lie down in a comfortable position, Meda caught Reg's eye and giggled. He looked as if he was trying not to laugh too so she pulled a funny face, just to see if he would. They were supposed to be quiet, after all. So when he did let out a laugh, she pushed her finger against his lips, shushing him. She was trying not to giggle herself when she heard footsteps. They both froze and Meda even held her breath. She must have turned red in the face since Regulus clamped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing and then as the footsteps started to run off away from them, she did the same, trying not to gasp too loudly for breath. She just lay there for a moment, panting until she'd recovered more or less. She reached for her cousin's hand then suddenly, finding it and giving it a little squeeze of excitement. She did so love playing hide and seek and it was always the most fun when you hid with someone else. It had to be someone you really liked though. She wouldn't have had so much fun hiding with Sirius, for example. But as she squeezed Regulus's hand and she grinned at him, she felt a sudden rush of enlightment beyond her now six years of age and in a voice that was supposed to sound determined but merely came out soft and sweet and childish, she blurted "We're going to be friends forever, aren't we?" It was a silly question, because they both knew the answer. And this realization made her beam and twist herself around to stare up at the patchwork pieces of sky visible through the flower tops, happy with this renewed burst of faith in her little heart. She felt both so very young and so very old in that moment, thinking about 'forever'. It seemed to her an awfully long time, too long to even begin comprehending, let alone contemplating. But she loved Regulus and he loved her too and he was her friend and he would always be her friend and she would always be his friend and that meant forever. Everyone said 'friends forever' but as Meda lay there in the flower garden with Reg, she felt that she was the only person in the world who really meant it.

Yes, Regulus was her Always, her Forever. Andromeda didn't care what anyone else thought - at the end of the day, this was what mattered the most. Her and Regulus and their strangely unbreakable relationship. Nothing came between them; no one came between them. And it would always be that way. They'd been each other's king and queen when they were little and even if they'd outgrown such names and such games, that hadn't changed. They were no longer children but they still mattered the most. She knew - how could she not? - that Regulus had a rather infamous reputation, she knew that he had certainly qualities which some people - many of her former friends, for example - disliked or scorned. But she loved him so it didn't matter. So many people had never been able to understand how she still got along with her cousin, how she could love him after everything he did, when he was the sort of person that he was. He could be cruel, he could be lewd... but she loved him. He was the only person in the world who she loved so completely and so easily. She loved her older sister, too - so, so much. But she didn't know Bellatrix loved her back as surely as she knew that Regulus loved her back, she couldn't trust Bellatrix as blindly as she could always trust Regulus. Bellatrix hadn't always been there and Regulus had, and therefore it was easy and painless to love Regulus. There was no doubt, there was no uncertainty, no fear, involved. Perhaps it could still be true that she loved her older sister more than anyone else in the world, but... She loved Regulus the most purely, the most freely. She put up with him and all of his shortcomings because Merlin only knew he put up with all of her flaws and because she loved him and that was all that mattered. Because she couldn't remember a single day in her life when she hadn't loved him and known that he loved her too. Because there never had been a single day in her life when she hadn't loved him and known that he loved too. And who else could she say that about? No one. There was not another person in the world who had been there as long as Regulus - her entire life - who she had loved as long as she had loved Regulus, or who had loved her as long as Regulus had loved her. And there would never be another person because her and Regulus were forever and there was nothing longer than that.

Was it pathetic? That the one person she would love forever was her cousin? Andromeda flinched. No, it wasn't pathetic. She and Regulus were special, they had something special. And that was enough. She didn't need someone to love her romantically, she didn't need that kind of forever. Was she merely bitter about Drake? No, it wasn't just that. And yet, she couldn't help a sad, shattered, little laugh at Regulus's question. Normal problems? She remembered normal problems. She remembered worrying about her hair and her clothes and petty issues with her friends. When had everything changed? Somewhere along the way, apparently. Somewhere along the way, everything had changed. Everything except for her and Regulus. And so she couldn't help another sad snort of laughter as he called Drake a dick because Regulus was being himself and that was exactly what she wanted right now. Even still, she couldn't help herself. "He's not a dick," she interjected softly, attempting a small smile that was more sad than anything. She shook her head. "I was the bitch, he didn't do anything wrong." But she remembered the way he'd grabbed her that night in the corridor, how he'd shoved her against the wall... And she shuddered, wrapping her arms tightly around her stomach and leaning against Regulus. Because that was her fault too. Drake wasn't like that, he was such a good person. And she'd ruined everything, breaking both their hearts in the process. Well, maybe not his. Maybe he'd moved on. Maybe she hadn't even meant anything to him in the first place. But her heart felt so broken that even the notion of even opening it up to anyone else ever again was too terrifying to imagine. But that was okay because she didn't need anyone else. She already had Regulus, she would love him forever. She'd had it right when she'd called him her king when they were little. It would always be him.

They were eight years old. Summer was coming to an end but it seemed determined this year to cling to them as long as it could. These past few days had been unbearably hot and everyone had been cooped up inside. But today there was finally a breeze and Andromeda's mother had decided that they would visit their aunt and uncle. And of course, Regulus. Sirius too but he'd run off Merlin-knew-where. That was okay, though. Meda didn't play with Sirius much, unless they were all thrown together. Sirius was different, and he said things that made everyone uncomfortable. Well, it made her uncomfortable, at least, to hear him saying things that didn't agree with what her parents had told her about the world and what Sirius was supposed to believe too. Someone had called him a bad egg once - she'd overheard the term in conversation between her mother and her aunt and it had stuck with her ever since. Sirius was a bad egg. She didn't want to play with a bad egg. She wanted to play with Regulus. She wanted to play with Bella too but her older sister had gone inside with everyone else who was bored of sitting around in the sun. That had been over an hour ago but Meda was still sitting in the grass with Regulus, enjoying the freedom of finally being outside again and the absence of the sweltering hear that had stuck to everything for so long. Even still, it was hot enough that she'd shed her heavy, ruffled dress, leaving it crumped it on one of the benches, and preferring to wear merely her light underdress, even if her mother would have scolded her for impropriety had she seen. They were just in the garden, though. She'd picked some of her favorite flowers - even if she wasn't supposed to - and was braiding them into a wreath. Well, two wreaths, actually. One was already delicatedly balanced atop her head, slanted ever so slightly. And the other? "This one's for you," she informed Regulus with a giggle, as she finished tying the last stems together. A grin lit up her young face and she plopped the circlet of flowers onto his head and, before he could say anything about flowers being for girls and not boys, added that "If you're my king, you need a crown." She arched a thin eyebrow at him, another giggle escaping as an idea struck her. "And you need to catch me!" And with another light peal of laughter, she sprung to her feet, dashing off down one of the garden paths. Regulus ran after her and she shrieked with delight and laughed and laughed and laughed as she ran. She ran until her feet were sore and she could barely breathe and her wreath had long since fallen off her head, and Regulus's too as he chased after her. But that was okay, because she had lied: they didn't need crowns to be each other's king and queen.

"And anyways, you're my special friend," she told Regulus suddenly, her small smile becoming more peaceful as she studied him contently. Of course it was true - and it had always been true. "But you don't come and go. You're always." Always there, always her special friend, always, always, always. And Meda straightened up to kiss his cheek, her lips lingering against his skin for a moment before she settled her head back onto his shoulder, small smile still in place. She liked it when Regulus was like this. So unlike himself and yet so utterly himself. Just not the self that everyone got to see. And she liked that. She liked hearing him sound as if he was putting thought into this, as if he cared, as if he just wanted to make her feel better. Because she knew that he did and she liked that enough to forget about the small flash of annoyance that had seized her when he'd mentioned "Kat", his "special friend". She couldn't be that special if she was one of those that "come and go". Andromeda and Regulus didn't come and go. They were always. They were forever. Nothing beat forever. Not that it was a competition between her and Kat. Of course not. There was no way that she felt jealous about any of this because that would have been taking pettiness to an entire new level. She had no reason to be possessive of her cousin. But this was Regulus. And he was so much more than her cousin. He was her Forever. She was pretty sure she was allowed to be a teensy bit possessive of her Forever, thank you very much. That was it, after all. She just loved Regulus and didn't like the idea of some other girl hogging him all to herself. Right? Right. Nonetheless... she couldn't help sometimes wondering if she maybe loved Regulus too much. It was unnatural, wasn't it? To love someone so much purely out of friendship. And yet, that was the line they always walked. They were cousins, they were friends, they loved each other. But she was suddenly aware of how close Regulus was and how he was gripping her hand so tightly and she felt her stomach twist, all the thoughts she'd never allowed herself to think rising to the surface. It was in moments like these when all those lines seemed blurry. Small moments of closeness, like this one, sitting on the bench with Regulus, so close to Regulus, and so aware of that, so aware of the dull ache in her stomach, the physically painful ache that seized her, forcing herself to close her eyes shut because her head suddenly felt so light. When they were little, they'd been each other's king and queen. He was her forever. She loved him more than anyone else in the world. It should have been a blessing to have one member of the family that she could love so much but in that moment it felt like nothing more than a curse and she shuddered, because she didn't even know what she was afraid of, only that the air felt hotter and something was happening and she was sick of feeling so small and heart-broken and the one person in the world that she loved was right beside her and he was gripping her hand and as her eyes fluttered open at the sound of her name from his lips she realized just how close he was, even closer, and the way he'd said her name, oh god, the way he'd said her name, her stomach had wrenched painfully and she didn't know what was happening, she didn't know what in the world was going on, she just felt dizzy and nothing made sense anymore and he moaned her name again and- and-

As Regulus's mouth crashed down on hers, Andromeda couldn't help the high-pitched, cut-off gasp that escaped her, even as her eyes had already sunk closed, incapable of remaining open when her lids were suddenly so heavy. And her lips were already parting as his tongue slid into her mouth and she didn't know what was happening but her body sure did and now that her mouth had found his, her lips were moving greedily, craving and needing everything that she shouldn't have wanted but oh did she ever. This shouldn't have been happening, none of this should have been happening, this wasn't happening but... it was. And she fell back down on the bench underneath him, a helpless whimper escaping her but it was almost more of a moan as he sunk against her and she couldn't help herself, she couldn't help the way that her back had arched, pressing herself up to him and- and- "Fuck, Reg," she couldn't help breathing heavily, for indeed her breaths were coming unevenly now, whenever she could breathe at all. This––this––no, this couldn't have been happening, this was Regulus and he was––he was––No, she couldn't think it. All that she could think was that this was Regulus, and she loved him and he was her Always and he was her Forever and she shouldn't have wanted this but she did. She wanted this so fucking badly and she hated herself for it. But her hands had already twisted into his hand and now they were sliding down, her fingers digging into his back, and––and––oh god––oh sweet fucking Merlin––no––this wasn't––this couldn't––This was. Another whimper, but it wasn't because she didn't want this. She did and it terrified her, left her feeling disgusting and unclean and- and- But this was Reg. And he'd slid a hand underneath her tank top and––and––holy––fuck––A gasping, breathless moan slipped out of her mouth before she could control herself. Because she couldn't. She couldn't control herself whatsoever in this moment and certainly not with Regulus and––and––oh god––it was so hot––everything––she felt so hot––And she slid one hand down to grip the hem of her tank top, tugging it up with great annoyance, detaching herself briefly from him to pull it over her head but then she was kissing him again, her mouth on his, lips parted as her tongue slid into his mouth and––oh god––she couldn't––help––herself––this––was––actually––happening. And she'd wanted this––oh, she'd never even realized how much she'd wanted this but she had and she did and––and- his shirt––was––still––on––and she pulled at it with frustration and––oh––god––what was happening to her? She couldn't control herself, she'd lost all capability of that the moment his lips had come crashing down on hers. And she'd pulled her mouth away from his now, pressing kisses up his jawline until she reached his ear, which she kissed too and then she was whispering, oh fuck, she was whispering––"I love you, Regulus." And she didn't know how she meant it, she couldn't have explained herself or why she felt the impulse to say that, as if those words alone could justify everything that she shouldn't have been doing, that she despised herself for doing. She just knew that she loved him, even if she didn't know how or in what way or what form. And it didn't matter, anyways, because she'd already found his mouth again and was seeking everything that she needed, everything that would somehow magically make all the pain and heartbreak go away. Because she loved him but this was just––this wasn't about that, was it?––this was––she didn't––know––what––was––happening––or why––why it was happening. Why was this happening? She didn't know. She didn't know anything. She just knew that she loved him but not––not like this––but she did––yes, like this––she didn't––she––she––she didn't know. She loved him but she didn't have the slightest clue if she loved him too much or not enough. And those two concepts, those two ends of the spectrum, suddenly seemed so closely intertwined, so hard to tell apart. So she didn't try. She didn't care––she didn't think––she just acted. She just slid a hand down to unzip her jeans and she was tugging them down and kicking them off and another whimpered moan escaped her and she didn't know what she was doing––she didn't know––anything––anything at all––just that––that––

She wanted this. So badly. And she hated herself for it.

[Alessandra De Luca]

From the places you have come to fear the most:

And of course she had to room with Victoria Macmillan. As much as Imogen didn't like her, Victoria Macmillan was absolutely beautiful - on the outside. She had the perfect face. She had the perfect body. She was the perfect definition of femininity. God. She made it seem so easy, too. She was such a natural beauty, she just...fucking glowed. Looking pretty, to her, seemed as easy as breathing. And yeah, Imogen was envious. She could admit that much.

I don’t think Didi will argue with me on this, so I think it’s safe to say that through the many, many, many conversations we have had involving our beloved instabesties, I have come to know Imogen Sauveterre pretty well (LOL, sometimes Ian knows Imogen better than Didi herself, but anyway). I’m not sure if everyone will be able to appreciate the irony inherent in this thread, so here I am to point it out. Didi and Ellie have drawn this totally amazing comparison between their characters, which becomes more obvious when you read both characters' perspectives together.


From the places you have come to fear the most:

Too late for that, Margaret. Your daughter is already screwed. Your daughter has outgrown her wardrobe, Margaret. Your daughter has eaten too many calories, Margaret. Your daughter isn't working out enough, Margaret. Your daughter is the biggest disappointment of your life, Margaret. Your daughter is a fatass, Margaret. Your daughter isn't pretty, Margaret. Your daughter is never going to marry, Margaret. Your daughter is horrendous, Margaret. Your daughter is fat. Fat. Fat. Yes. That's right, Margaret. Your daughter is the laughing stock of the wizarding community because she's the ugliest, fattest damn disappointment you'd ever see. And she is pathetic, Margaret. Yeah, Maggie, your daughter is pathetic, blubbering on the floor in front of that toilet, thinking it could change her. Thinking that toilet was going to fix her, thinking if she could just throw up, she would be skinny. But no, Margaret, that wouldn't make her skinny, and not fast enough. Your poor, unfortunate daughter was disgusting. Victoria was disgusting.

Too late for that, Tori. You're already screwed. You outgrew your wardrobe, Tori. You ate too many calories, Tori. You're not working out enough, Tori. You're the biggest disappointment of your mother's life, Tori. You're a fatass, Tori. You're not pretty, Tori. You're never going to get married, Tori. You're horrendous, Tori. you're fat, Tori. Fat. Fat. Yes. That's right, Tori. You're the laughing stock of the wizarding community because you're the ugliest, fattest damn disappointment anyone's ever seen. And you're pathetic, Tori. Yeah, Tori, you're pathetic, blubbering on the floor in front of the toilet, thinking it could change you. Thinking that toilet'll fix you, thinking if you could just throw up, you'd be skinny. But no, Tori, that won't make you skinny, and not fast enough. You're poor, unfortunate, and disgusting. Disgusting.

Repulsive.

....Fat.

Oh, goodness, Ellie. This was just… fantastic. Poignant as hell. The parallelism and bitter tone here, directed first at Tori’s mother and then Tori herself… Gosh, it’s heartbreaking.

She didn't want to be as atrociously ugly as she was. She didn't want those big eyes, she didn't want that fat waist, she didn't want those too-big hips, she didn't want her pointed nose or her little ears or her funny-shaped fingers or her terrible nailbeds or her huge pores or her disgusting butt or her chunky legs or her fat abdomen or her long dark hair or her too thick eyebrows or her anything, she just didn't want to be, she didn't want anything at all, she wished it would all just go away and she wished she could sleep forever and she wished she was skinny because that was all she wanted, she just wanted to be pretty and she just wanted her mother to love her and she just wanted to be loved and she knew the only way her mother would ever love her was if she was beautiful, which she wasn't, so she was basically screwed for life, and she just didn't want to be there right now. She didn't want to be at that wedding, in the bathroom, in the suite she was sharing with Imogen, who hated her, who was much more beautiful than she was, who was much skinnier and much smarter and much more appealing and much much much more beautiful. She wished she could just curl up in a ball and make everything go away. She didn't want to be hideous anymore.

The irony is just painful. Switch the names around and some of the details, and it'd be difficult to tell if this was Tori or Imogen. Here we have two girls who hate each other, but it's totally ironic because they're insanely jealous of each other for the same reasons. Honestly, in this thread there are moments where Tori and Imogen are basically the same fucking person.

She loved that dress. But she was too fat for it. Mommy always talked about how she didn't want Tori to be fat, so that was why Tori was only allowed to eat a certain amount of food during the day and that was why she was supposed to go to ballet lessons for three and a half hours every day and that was why mommy hated her sister so much, because her sister had gotten fat after having all of Tori's cousins. Tori didn't want mommy to hate her. ...But if Tori was fat, didn't that mean mommy hated her?

Tearjerking. No little girl should have to feel that way. Reading this, you can feel the fear and sadness and hopelessness that Tori has been feeling her entire life.

She wanted to be beautiful like her mother and her grandmother and even her little sister who was already beautiful even though she was ten and everyone was fucking pining over her and not paying any attention at all to Tori, the ugly one, she one who surely brought nothing but shame to the family because she wasn't skinny enough or perfect enough or nice enough or charming enough or good enough with the other pureblood families.

Seriously, they're the same friggin' person. Anyway, the entire thread is pure gold. Go read it. Now.

[severus]

o.m.g. i love kiara, and i love jack, and i love kiki, and i love jackiki, and i love this post. the flashbacks were adorable and flkhfdlhnklfd his parents are sooo so so cute. and like, the way his mom taught him about love and his dad too, and all the cute little nuances, about the ketchup and macaroni and cheese, and he wasn't allowed to use the stove....so.cute. and i just love how jack is thinking about kiki so seriously, and like, it's just sooo flipping adorable and squee-worthy and i literally cannot wait to find out what he has to tell her and how he'll say it.

bravo, kiara, you've kept me on the edge of my chair!

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He knew that he could only keep going for so long before he'd have to tell her. Even then, as he held her tightly to him the morning after yet another amazing night, he knew there wasn't going to be much time left where he could get away with his half-truths and evasive questions. If he wanted to keep being a part of this relationship -- if he really wanted to remain Kiki Valentine's boyfriend -- he was going to have to eventually tell her the truth about himself, his parents, and, ultimately, what happened to all of them. He wasn't looking forward to it, but he knew he could no longer avoid it. He just did what he always did; he held her a little tighter and tried not to think about the ugliness he had been dealing with for the past year.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?"

His mother had found him in the room she shared with his father, as she normally did whenever they would come back from a heist. As per usual, he was sitting at her vanity and had taken out all of her miscellaneous jewelery items. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets, rings... all laid out upon the cherry wood. He had placed the stones he liked together -- emeralds in one pile, sapphires in another, rubies in a third, diamonds in a fourth, and the rest he had just placed in another pile. He was examining her favorite piece; a beautiful ruby necklace, surrounded by diamonds. The stone itself was about the size of an American half-dollar. She couldn't wear it out; the necklace itself had been stolen from a rather high-standing family. The necklace was too recognizeable to wear out, so instead she only wore it to family dinners -- or when they were out overseas. Jack had always had a fascination with it, finding the large, shiny stone to be mesmerizing since he was a child.

"Momma," he turned and grinned, dropping the necklace to the ground with a thump against the carpeting, propelling himelf forward and wrapping his arms around her legs. "Momma, I missed you!" She chuckled, bending down and running a hand through his hair, tapping his nose with a finger.

"I missed you, too, darling, but look -- I brought you something!" She pulled the satchel from around her neck, pulling out a gold coin and holding it out to him.

"Pirate treasure!" He whispered excitedly, grabbing the coin. He placed it in his mouth and bit down before pulling it back out and squealing -- "Real gold!"

His mother chuckled. "Go put it with the others, darling. Remember -- you're saving up for someone special." She winked. He turned around and looked at her curiously, and she smiled. She bent down again, eye-to-eye with her six year old son, and smiled softly at him. Speaking lowly, she whispered to the boy who looked so much like his father, "Not all treasure is silver and gold, darling. Someday, you're going to find someone who makes you feel special. And you'll want to buy her beautiful things like your father does for me." She kept running her fingers through his hair. "And to do that, you need to save those," she poked the gold coin in his hand.

"Don't you want to spoil someone, Jackie?"

"Daddy!" He grinned, pushing himself away from his mother. He jumped right as his father stooped, picking him up and holding him close.

"You're going to find a beautiful woman one day, Jack. Just like your momma."

Jack pulled Kiki close again, leaning down and kissing the top of her head as she slept beside him. He brought his other hand up to rub at his face, smoothing out the worry lines that had formed with the memory. His parents had such a strong, beautiful relationship. He just wanted the same things for himself; a strong partner, a strong emotion, and a strong relationship as a whole. His thumb was swiping up and down her shoulder as they sat there, subconsciously keeping contact with her as he sat there, his mind elsewhere. He couldn't not think about his parents on most days, but ever since he started dating Kiki, he found himself thinking about them more often. He didn't want to jinx his relationship with Kiki by saying the word too early, but he was starting to wonder if this was the kind of relationship his parents had taught him about all those years ago. It felt just as special. He could feel his connection with Kiki as much as he had sensed it with his parents. Maybe lying to Kiki wasn't the only reason he should finally tell her about his parents. Shouldn't she know about the amazing people who had taught him to be like this? Shouldn't she know about the people who raised him? Who instilled the manners and chivalrous behavior that she seemed to admire so much? He sighed and settled back into his bed, attempting not to jolt Kiki too much while attempting to get more comfortable, his mind still wandering back to one of many lessons his parents had taught him.

"Watch carefully, Jack," his father whispered to him conspiratorally as he patted his head. Jack had taken up residence behind the couch, watching with a grin as his father strode over to the dining room table. He and Jack had worked all day, preparing his mother's favorite foods. Well, his father did most of the cooking; even at eleven years old, his father thought him too young to handle the oven. Still. He couldn't help but smile at the fact that his son was a bit of a master with a knife. Jack had already eaten his dinner -- macaroni and cheese with catsup -- but had begged his father to stay up and watch him surprise his mother. His father had agreed, figuring it would just be another lesson in how to behave for when he got older. To prove to his son that even a felon -- a criminal, an outlaw -- can have things like class and tact. That they can be just as gentlemanly as the next person. So they lack morals -- never manners.

His mother had walked in, then, coming home after scoping out new targets with a couple other members of the crew. She had been suspicious this morning -- it was rare enough that John wouldn't come with them to scope, but Jack had never, ever turned down an opportunity to come before. The look on her face was the perfect mix of surprise and knowledge, but her smile was infectuous. It took everything in Jack to keep from popping up from his hiding spot and shouting, "Aha!" Instead, he held down to his spot, merely watching with curious eyes. He watched as his mother greeted his father -- watched as he pulled her chair out for her. Manners, little things here and there -- that's what his father had told him to pay attention to.

"It's the little things, Jackie. Women appreciate the little things -- they love it when you remember the little stuff."

Little stuff, like holding Kiki while she sleeps, or that she's a good friend who genuinely cares about everyone she's close with -- evident with the fact that she remained close with both Lucas and Johnny, despite their break-up. He knows little things here and there about her -- that it wasn't the money for herself that had made her stay with Cameron, but the money for her family that had really been important to her. She always puts others before himself, and, while he admires it, he also knows that she should be able to celebrate herself every once in a while. She deserves only the best from those around her -- including himself. With that in mind, he smiled down at her as she stirred beside him. "Hey, you," he said softly, leaning over and pressing his lips to her forehead, chuckling softly as he watched her become better oriented with the world around her. He continued to rub his thumb up and down her shoulder, waiting until she was totally awake before talking again.

"Can I -- can we talk? It's -- it's kind of important."

That would be the last half-truth he ever told her.

It wasn't "kind of" important.

It was everything.

[Alessandra De Luca]

From f o r e v e r & a l w a y s:

He hated him. He hated him––Potter––because he ruined his life. Because things were not supposed to be this way. Because... because Potter was never supposed to wed Lily. Because ever since Severus had been a child, playing in Lily’s yard and making flowers grow, and whispering unkind things about her pathetic sister, ever since then, Severus knew that he had wanted to marry Lily one day. He had not know it right away, because he had still been a child, but on the other hand, he had always been wizened––matured––beyond his years, and at seven or eight years old, he had known, or rather, taken it for granted, that Lily would one day belong to him. It was foolish, really. It was stupid and foolish to assume that she would not have suffered under the corrupt influence of another boy one day, especially when exposed to an entire crop of them at school. But Severus had lived in bliss. Ignorant bliss. He did not see how she could possibly love anyone else, or how he could possibly love anyone else, and thus he could not foresee any complication in their relationship. He would wed her one day, because it was his destiny. He would wed her one day, because he had to. He would wed her one day, because he loved her. But he never did wed her. Love her? Yes, he still did. It was silly––silly to believe that after all these years, nearly three, now, after their estrangement, that he would still love her, perhaps now even more than before. But this was Severus, and being the man that he was, he did not let go of things so easily. Especially not things such as his irrevocable flame of passion for Lily, that would never be extinguished, not even by death. Severus could not imagine a world in which he did not continue to love Lily. He could not envision how he would behave in such an alternate universe, nor how he would possibly, conceivably, be the same human being he was this very second, towering menacingly over Potter. No, he could not––did not––think about such hypotheticals. To the day he died, Severus would love Lily. Losing her was simply his cross to bear. And bear it, he would, if that meant that she would still be with him, at least in his memories. She was his rock, his safe harbor. Whenever he was in pain, or delirious with grief, or blinded by fury, he took his mind away, relocated his thoughts, to that special, secret, safe place that no human being on this earth could touch beside him––his memories with Lily. No, not the horrid, unbearable fighting––though he would have taken that over nothing––but the days when they were still very close, when she called Potter an ‘arrogant toerag,’ when she still harbored the same hatred for him that Severus had, when she had defended him, and when, in the more docile times, they would stay up in the library to all hours of the night, studying, and brewing potions.

That was what kept Severus alive.

The knowledge that, even though he would hardly ever see her again, and she would assuredly use everything in her power to prevent him from seeing her again, he would still imagine her, perfectly intact, in his mind, where no one, not even Potter, could touch her again. In his mind, she would be whatever he wanted her to be. In his mind, she would be his wife, his constant companion, his eternal love. As long as he lived, Severus would love her. He knew that, now. Of course, he had always known it, though some faint traces in his mind, lingered subtly, longing for a second chance at life––at love. And yet, what was love, if it was not for Lily? Severus could not find other women beautiful. He could not find other women appealing. He could not find other women so much as refreshing. They were all horribly annoying––blights and banes on his existence. They bothered him excessively, and troubled him with things about which he could care less. They talked––talking bothered him, because they did not have Lily’s voice. Breathing bothered him––because they did not have Lily’s breath. The list went on and on and on, for eternity. But, in simple terms, it could be reduced to one, single idea: Severus was not interested in other women, because they were not Lily. No one was Lily. No one could be Lily. And, because of this, Severus could never be happy, and moreover, would never want to be happy. Joy did not exist for Severus if it was without Lily. In fact, the word was not even part of his vernacular. Because, after Lily left, he could never be truly happy. But this was something he had accepted, he had enjoyed, even, in his own, masochistic way. Severus’ mind was complex, convoluted, confusing––at times, he did not know how to even interpret his own thoughts. All he knew was that he thought, that she was always on his mind, and that there was nothing to be done about it. He loved her, and he doubted that any number of years would change that. She was getting married. She would be happy. She would have that joy without him, that he would never have without her. He would never be happy, and she would. Again: that was just his cross to bear. And he would not have had it any other way. Shivering slightly with wrath as he thought these things, and stared down into Potter’s rightfully frightened eyes, Severus pointed his wand at him, a spell at the tip of his tongue. In any second, at any time he wanted, Severus could have ended James Potter’s life. It would have been simple. Too simple. Easy. Too easy. All he had to do was aim the wand at his face, and everything would be over. Potter would be dead, Lily would be alive, and no longer would there be any awful cloud of agony over Severus’ head, reminding him of Potter’s unjust triumph.

Severus wanted to kill him. He wanted to draw it out, make it slow, agonizing, horrible, just in the same way that Potter had made Severus’ life. He wanted him to die miserably, pathetically, and begging him for mercy. He wanted to know that he had killed Potter––that he had triumphed, in the end. That neither of them could have Lily, because neither of them deserved her. Potter, no doubt, was only thinking about himself, probably wetting his pants with fear. He did not deserve to have the responsibility of looking after Lily, of ensuring her safety, until the day he died. Which, Merlin willing, would be very soon. He wanted, for once, to be in control. He wanted revenge. He wanted––he wanted so many things, all at once, bubbling up to his mouth and frothing out, tinged with venom, “SECTUM––”

“L--Lily!”

He was calling for her.

“Go -- g-go, L--”

Severus pointed the wand again. “Sectumsem––”

“LILY!”

Why was he calling for her? Why was he allowed to say those letters, that sweet name, on his lips? He was violating so many boundaries, he was––he was––ruining things––he was not allowed to say her name. “Sec-sectum––” Severus broke off, dropping to his knees, allowing Potter to believe that his pitiful kick had done so, when it was really Severus’ guilt, seeping into his marrow and clouding his thoughts. No. No. He wanted this. Potter needed––had––to die. And Severus needed––had––to kill him. It––it was what was supposed to happen, it was divine justice, it... “S-sectum... s-sectumsem––”

But he could not do it.

He could not do it.

He could not do it because all he could think about was that Potter––Potter loved Lily, too. Potter loved Lily and oh, oh Merlin, Severus loathed him for it. But Lily... Lily loved him too. Lily loved him too. And if killing Potter––if killing Potter would make Lily unhappy... then... could Severus do it? Could he live, knowing––knowing that he was the reason for Lily’s misery? “S-sec... tum...”

No. He could not.

This was––he got up––not supposed to happen this way––he put his wand down––he was not––he began silently walking away, eyes pricking with tears––supposed to be defeated again––he wanted to wipe them away but they were under his mask––he was supposed to win––they really bothered him––he was not supposed to lose again––he rarely wept––he was supposed to get vengeance––so he was not used to that wet, slimy feeling on his face––he was supposed to––he was supposed to––he was supposed to win, and... and, damn it, he let his guilt get in the way. He let the knowledge that Potter truly did care about Lily above himself get in the way. He let his fear of disappointing Lily get in the way. He... he had lost. But then again, that was all Severus ever did––lose. He rarely succeeded. He rarely got his way. He rarely knew true happiness, true success. This was just another instance to add to the resume: failure to kill the man who robbed you of whatever joy you could have had in life. He had failed. And there would be hell to pay for it with the Dark Lord. There would be so much––

Merlin.

Lily.

She was rushing toward the fiendfyre. She was––she was beautiful. Oh, focus, Severus, focus. She was rushing toward it, her red hair streaming behind her, having fallen from its coil, and her beautiful, white gown was tainted with soot. But she still looked like a bride. She looked like a bride ought to––nervous, frightful, and yet glowing with an inner beauty that was eons beyond the material beauty of her clothing. She had matured since he last saw her. She looked older, somehow. More beautiful. She was an angel, rather––an angel, the same, but changed. Braver, but weaker. She was compromising herself, but she was doing it out of bravery. A bravery Severus himself coveted. He was, at this point, standing, numbly, staring at her, and thinking of how, in a few moments, she would be dead. She would run into the flames and they would consume her. They would eat at her pure white flesh. They would tear and rip at her golden red hair. They would sear her body and consume her alive. She would be dead––gone––but Severus doubted, sincerely doubted, that anyone would let that happen. She had friends, people she trusted. They would save her. It was not longer Severus’ place to save her any longer. She had others upon whom she depended. Severus was out of the picture. He was about to turn away, to accio his broom to himself, but––but he stopped.

Lily was going to die.

Everyone else was detained. Potter was near dead, the lightweight. Could not even handle one cruciatus curse. Sneering, Severus tightened his grip on his wand. There was no one else, he decided––no, he did not know what he had been thinking––there was no one else worthy of saving Lily. Only him. It had to be him. Suddenly, he lurched forward, his body being carried by some inhuman force of which Severus was only vaguely aware. He outstretched his wand, felt the searing heat of the fiendfyre around him as he drew nearer and nearer to where Lily was located amidst the fray. He noticed that she was going in after her parents––but he did not think about the implications of that. He had to save Lily. Only Lily. If her parents had to die for her to live, so be it. Severus only cared about Lily. He lunged forward, wrapped his forearm around her chest, and slid backward, depositing her back toward the alter, where the fiendfyre had not yet reached. But––he could not focus––could not think––because he was touching her. It made his knees give out, the mere electricity of the touch, and he fell, causing Lily to fall on top of him. Giving a startled shout, he rolled out from underneath her and pinned her arms to the ground, so that she could not fight him, which she had already began to do. His tears were beginning to slip from under his mask and down his chin, and he strove to mask them, though without success. He kept his hands wrapped around her wrists and applied as much weight as he could, without hurting her. Someone had to come. Someone would come. He would not have to stay here like this. No, Merlin, please, someone had to come––he was not––h-he was not comfortable with this––level––of––contact––Merlin. He tried not to look into her eyes, tried to look away, tried––tried––tried––

But he could not look away.

Because he knew that this would probably be the last time he ever saw her.

I think Fief is Severus Snape.