I heart Theodore Nott & Neville Longbottom.

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1. You can't keep blaming yourself. Just blame yourself once, and move on. (Homer Simpson)

2. So, people, where's the Lost slash? C'mon. Boone practically killed himself getting Jack all those pens, and Sayid and Sawyer? Animosity breeds slash like fucking rabbits. I know this. Don't make me walk up hill in both directions and write it myself.

3. I was going to do that first-line drabble bit, but lets face it kids, I've got too many. The post alone would be effing enormous.

4. Telegraph Avenue is one year old this month. I'm so proud! AHHHHHHHHH! Actually, I only know this because I'm still sitting on the story of Jamie & Ian and I pulled out the .doc again. Would anybody read that besides me and serialkarma? Do we care? Of course not! *makes notes*

5. Speaking of serialkarma, she has A Very Important Poll Regarding The Princess Bride that everyone should take immediately. Yis.

6. Tell me this is not Orlando Bloom/Wombat/Wasserface. Tell me... and I still won't believe you.

ETN: #7 : Since ABC is *still* kicking themselves for letting go of the Holy Puberty Grail My So-Called Life, will anybody be watching Life As We Know It? What really impresses me here is that they're so desperate they've even got the same title font for this show. Talk about too little, too late.

Comments

[circe-tigana.livejournal.com]

Terry Boot once said that Theodore Nott had the patience of a saint. He was referring to the way in which Theodore quote unquote put up with that little bitch. Meaning, of course, Draco Malfoy.

Because Terry was fucking Theodore -- at that exact moment, as it so happened -- and because the barb had substance if not accuracy, Theodore allowed it to pass with only a warning.

It was, however, an interesting learning experience.

Apparently there were indeed some things that only one's own housemates -- puerile as they might be -- could understand.

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Apparently there were indeed some things that only one's own housemates -- puerile as they might be -- could understand.

Puerile. That's such a Theodore word.

*waits for more*

[circe-tigana.livejournal.com]

Theodore is thirteen when Aunt Narcissa visits his home. He is three days back from school and is sitting in library when she sweeps in, long silvery hair bound back with an incarnidine scarf.

Though she has always been a presence in his life he can't remember ever seeing her outside of the boundaries of Malfoy Manor before. It's a strange thing to see her here, and one Theodore thinks about later, after she has gone.

"I must speak to your father," she says. She does not quite look at him. She is uncharacteristically distracted.

Theodore stands. "He is out with Alexandria," he tells her politely. "May I be of assistance to you, Aunt?"

Narcissa Malfoy turns her gaze fully upon him.

Draco's always being told he resembles his father. But in this moment Theodore sees what Draco could be if he tried harder. She smiles at him and it is Draco's smile, only so much more so.

"I am certain," she says, "that you will be."

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Draco's always being told he resembles his father. But in this moment Theodore sees what Draco could be if he tried harder. She smiles at him and it is Draco's smile, only so much more so.

*makes flailing motions with hands*

Fuck YES!

Seriously, why be Lucius when you can be Narcissa? Oh, Draco, you fool!