Oh look, she's still alive!

That's only partially a lie. I am in college, my penultimate year, so I have a lot of shit going on... I don't post frequently, as I have no computer during the summer, and I have, you know, college the rest of the time. As an English/History double major, I write an average of 3 essays every two weeks, not including the term-long papers in each class (of which there are four). Wahoo. As much as I enjoy the general stress this brings, it also means I have very little time or inclination to write fan fiction. Such is life, but I am truly sorry to everyone.

Personally speaking, I've been going through some pretty rough patches recently. Due to a sudden downturn in my depression which left me rather incapacitated for a few days, and a subsequent reluctance to get out of bed for anything other than classes, I have been doing a whole lot of staring at walls blankly instead of writing or giving a shit in general.

And now for the stuff you actually care about... my stories. Sadly, I kinda hate everything I was working on, so I'll probably be going through and revamping them as I find the energy to do so. I don't think I'll take them down, but... don't expect updates any time soon. Again, I'm sorry, but, well... Anyway.
THE OTHER SIDE- I am currently working on a fem!Snape story, mainly because I haven't seen any before. It's going to be told almost entirely in snapshots of his (her?) life, instead of a chronological narrative. It will also be kinda dark- I seem to have taken a different path than some of my earlier stories.
WHEN WORDS CANNOT (working title)- Also Snape-centric, also told in snapshots (I don't know why I like that style so much!), but the MC is a female friend of Snape's, a disgraced pureblood prostitute who works for the Order. Wow, could I have made that sound more like a Mary Sue? Damn. She's borderline... I'll try to make her, you know, not a f*ckup.
Both of these have heavy drug use, explicit sex, and cuss words literally everywhere. Not really sorry... but if you're under 17, or mentally 17-, you probably shouldn't read these. I'm not going to be held responsible for you slipping up in front of a 5yo and calling the bus driver a fucking twat.

Quotes:
“... the forest is out there whether we like it or not, and we can’t just stay in our pretty little houses and lock the doors. We have to make the bold move.” l8r g8r (Lauren Myracle)
“The trouble about trying to make yourself stupider than you really are, is that you very often succeed.” The Magician’s Nephew, Chapter Ten
“You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born to be, but what they grow to be." Albus Dumbledore
"Books! And cleverness! There are more important things--friendship and bravery and--oh Harry--be careful!" Hermione Granger
“Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love.” Albus Dumbledore
“If you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” Spock
“For instance, this new idea that You-Know-Who can kill with a single glance from his eyes. That’s a basilisk, listeners. One simple test: Check whether the thing that’s glaring at you has got legs. If it has, it’s safe to look into its eyes, although if it really is You-Know-Who, that’s still likely to be the last thing you ever do.” Fred Weasley

Absolutely Nothing
by Osoanon Nimuss

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year that Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of its new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it.

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sister making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
And at three A.M. he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly

That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didn't think
he could reach the kitchen.