suicide eyes, tag- ROXY

I CAN'T EVEN TRUST MYSELFLiam looked down at the stash on his bed. This wasn’t your conventional ‘stash’. This wasn’t the kind of ‘stash’ that would get him in trouble with the law. This was the kind of stash that would get him ridiculed to no end. This was the kind of stash that would ruin his finely honed reputation. He worked hard on his reputation here at the school and he wasn’t about to have people think anything less of him. Books, finely written, excellent books. Liam Travers didn’t sit on his rump all day long and dream about fantasy world and forbidden lovers. No, Liam Travers sat around on his rump and thought about ways to accrue more money, like a good little pureblood boy. No, he was just fine with the fact that people at the school looked at him as a stuck up elitist. He would rather have them think that than the alternative, which was thinking he was a softy because he liked the sonnets of Shakespeare, the poems of Keats; muggles, why did he have to like their work, why? He was currently trying to decide what novels he wanted to bring along tonight. His collection was so vast that he couldn’t very well carry all of them with him. He wasn’t planning on taking any sort of bag, he just wanted to take about two books and then he would have to be able to carry the bottle of firewhiskey with him. It was the expensive brand of course. What kind of Irishman would he be if he didn’t bring the best alcohol? Where was he going you ask? He was off to meet his best friend, Roxanne Vane. Not only was she one of the more beautiful girls in the school, but she was quite possibly the smartest. She was so particular in everything she did, it wouldn’t be so off base to call her perfect. Liam knew better, he knew she wasn’t one hundred percent perfect, but she was pretty bloody close. If she could just get a hold of her obsessive compulsive disorder she would be able to function better. Liam was on her side most of the time, and he wanted her to get a handle on the disorder but that didn’t stop from teasing her about it. He would deliberately leave messes for her and see how crazy she would get over putting it back into order. At least when she was around shit gone done, things were clean and that was for damn sure. Choosing a book of Shakespeare sonnets and Keats’ ‘Endymion’, Liam collected the rest of his books, opened the trunk at the foot of his bed and shoved them back into the thing. Using his wand he muttered a simple locking charm to assure that at least for now they would be kept away from prying eyes. He was somewhat positive that his roommates knew better than to go snooping in his private things. He didn’t talk to his roommates a lot but they all kind of had an unspoken agreement, everyone kept to their own. The bottle of firewhiskey was already out on his bed. He slipped that into a pocket his robes and tucked the two books under his left arm. Shoving a hand though his mop of dark curls, he walked for the door of the dormitory and found himself not long after in the common room of Slytherin house. At this hour of the night, there was nary a soul in the room, which was good, he didn’t need any witnesses seeing him leaving. With his head bent he slipped through the entrance way and out into the hallway of the dungeons. Luckily he didn’t have to go far, hell, he didn’t even have to go up or down any flights of stairs. All he had to do was make the correct turns, right here, left there and he found himself looking at the gigantic portrait of the bowl of fruit. He figured perhaps he would go ahead and slip into the kitchens and wait for Roxanne to show up. He wanted to make sure he was on time for their meeting because he had a habit of being late. He didn’t want to piss her off or anything, no, tonight would be about making her happy. He could read her Shakespeare and they could fawn over the elegant verses of the late authors. They could just put the idea out of their mind that both of the authors he chose were muggles. He didn’t know which books she would bring tonight but he had no doubt they would be great choices. Reaching up, he tickled the pear and watched as it writhed and giggled and formed into a door. Turning the knob he walked in and stopped just inside. The house elves were there of course, padding around with their dumb looking ears and pillow case shirts. He knew as a wizard he had power of them but in private he wasn’t going to kick them around, or order them to fetch something, there was no reason he found for it. Giving a stern look he made for one of the two long tables used to put the food out for the meals. Since dinner was finished, and there were no meals to prepare until morning, the tables remained blank. Liam sat down, placed the book and the bottle on the surface of the table and opened his book of Keats. ‘A thing of beauty is a joy forever, it’s loveliness increases, it will never pass into nothingness.’ Simply beautiful, there was no way around that. TILLIE AT CAUTION

TAG: LIAMWORDS: 1244BOOK LOVERS UNITE!The tightrope that I'm walking just sways and ties. The devil, as he's talking, with those angel's eyes. And I just wanna be there when the lightning strikes. And the saints go marching in And sing slow it down, Through chaos as it swirls, It's us against the world. Like a river to a raindrop, I lost a friend. My drunken has a Daniel in a lion's den. And tonight I know it all has to begin again, So whatever you do, Don't let go. And if we could float away, Fly up to the surface and just start again. And lift off before trouble just erodes us in the rain Just erodes us in the rain Just erodes us and see roses in the rain it's...US AGAINST THE WORLDThose who knew Roxanne Vane well were very few and those who knew of her love for Muggle literature was even further depleted. Other than Liam, Alexis was the only other soul privy to this intimate information. Just how did someone like herself, a young woman raised in a household that would sooner micturate on a novel written by Muggles than read it, find herself enthralled by them? It had all started when she was eight years old at a used bookshop in the south of Paris. Her parents had left her on the sidewalk while they went inside one of the other stores to talk to someone who must have been of high importance, and how foolish were they to believe that an eight year old would simply wait when there was so much going on around her? Books are her first and final love in life and even by that young age, she was drawn to the used bookstore like a moth to a flame. The twinkling of bells had greeted her as she walked inside, her eyes daring around the room from dusty book to dusty book. The smell of worn pages, leather, and that implacable scent that only old books hold greeted her. Her small fingers traced along the bindings of the books, reading the golden script aloud as she passed each one. The one which she finally decided to pick was a collection of poems by William Blake, The Songs of Innocence. It was a book that began her deeply founded appreciation of Muggle literature. It also happened to be her first and only experience with shoplifting. The girl had wanted it so badly yet lacked any sort of Muggle monetary means to obtain it and therefore, she did the only thing she could think of which was to stick it in her bag and leave the store casually. Though she had gotten a newer version recently, one which also included The Songs of Experience, she found herself unable to part with the first. Though she was normally chastised for her inability to get rid of any of her possessions, she felt as though this was one which others would understand; that is, if she ever told anyone about it. Liam and Alexis were the only ones who knew and she fully intended on keeping it that way. This was why she and Liam had taken it upon themselves to have occasional meetings in the kitchen sharing their love for fine liquor coupled with their secret love for Muggle literature. Neither was in the position to talk about it openly, nor did either of them desire to. Roxanne did not maintain her image solely for her parents but she did so for herself as well. She had no desire to become a Blood Traitor, to pretend that there was little to no difference in Purebloods and Muggleborns. They just happened to do one thing very well and that one thing happened to coincide with her love of literature. How was she supposed to simply ignore it? She was thankful that she wasn't the only one in her position, that Liam found himself in a very similar one if not identical. Liam had a much softer side than he cared to show and she took great humor in seeing him be a complete ass one moment and then talking to her about a poem he'd read the next. The two seemed to transition almost seamlessly, at least around her. He was providing the liquor that evening and they were both splitting the material to be discussed. If she knew him at all, she knew he had a Keats' work in his possession. Looking around to make sure no one had crept into the dormitories while she wasn't paying attention, she extracted to books from underneath her mattress. Yes, another one of her odd quirks was that she had a habit of hiding things. Normally, the objects were ones that didn't need to be hidden but these, on the other hand, they deserved a secret spot. One was a compilation of T.S. Eliot's poetry and essays while the other was a collection of Yeats' poetry. She held the two in her hands, considering them and wondering if there were better options. However, a swift glance at the dainty silver watch on her left wrist alerted her that she needed to start the trek down to the kitchens. Depositing the books in her bag, she glanced at her mattress to make sure she hadn't left it at a suspicious angle and after satisfied with her findings, she scooted out of the room. Down the stairs and out the Common Room entrance, she found herself in the corridors. In order to avoid any unnecessary suspicions or questioning, she took a longer route that was more concealed than the main one. As she walked down the corridors, she thought of one of her favorite lines from The Wasteland, one which she wished she could live out for herself but knew that at that moment in time, it wasn't in the cards for her. 'I will show you something different from either your shadow at morning striding behind you or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust.' The ending line was the one that really struck a chord in her. She was not the bravest of people, and she liked to believe that she wasn't the most cowardly either, but merely self-preservative. To show someone fear in a handful of dust, to diminish something which is so powerful that it can completely overwhelm an entire population, that was a compelling and omnipotent statement. Having been lost in her own thoughts, she looked up surprised to see that she was nearing the portrait of fruit. Extending her slender finger, she tickled the pear, watched the fruits do their little dance, and entered through the threshold. Her eyes immediately fell on the familiar face, her lips stretching into a smile. Her gaze flickered to the bottle of liquor, a fine Firewhiskey and that was no surprise. When she looked down at the book in front of him she scoffed playfully, "Couldn't wait for me to get here before you began?" Taking the seat opposite of him, she gingerly set her bag on the table. She extracted the two books slowly, making sure not to crinkle any pages or cause any kind of damage, even though the chances of that were slim to none as there was nothing else in her bag. She looked up at him happily, "I can't believe you actually beat me here. Usually I'm the one always kept waiting." It was almost irritating that he had arrived first and by no fault of his own. She was just accustomed to being punctual, the first to arrive, the one prepared when the other walked in. But if there was one person on this good green earth that Roxanne could bend the rules of her compulsive mind for, it was the boy sitting in front of her. She raised her eyebrows expectantly, "So what did you bring me?" she asked, brightly. There were few people who saw the perkier and friendly side of her personality but he'd been introduced to it many years ago, back when they had been children and she hadn't yet learned the cynicism she carries around with her now.THANK YOU FLEUR OF ATF!

I CAN'T EVEN TRUST MYSELF Liam was lost in a world. A perfect world. A world of propriety, a world where people conversed in lyrical verse, a world with undying love. He never really considered himself a romantic, but he did like the romance poems of the great writer. It just amazed him how many different ways there was to talk about love. What did that make him though? What kind of person was he that he wasn’t a romantic but he liked romance poetry? He supposed it made him realistic. Yeah that was it. Liam only allowed himself to become totally enraptured in these works when he was alone with Roxanne. That sounded like more than it really was. When they were alone they weren’t doing what most teenagers in their situation would be doing, they were reading. But that was equally as scandalous in his mind. Sure, a gentleman could read, but reading poetry, novels written by muggles no less? Well it was shameful. Luckily when was at school there were a lot of places to hide, like the kitchens. Who would think to come down to the kitchens at the this time of the night? Would that really come to someone’s mind right away? He felt kind of bad that the kitchen was their meeting place though, it was a trek for her, where for him it was but a leisurely stroll. Maybe after tonight he would suggest a different place of them to make, somewhere still secluded and yet closer for the two of them to get to, in the middle of the castle. She was way up in the towers and he was down here in the dungeons. How he loved saying that he lived in a dungeon. It only added to his mystery. ‘Yeahmy name’s Liam, I live in a dungeon.’ That was either sexy mysterious or flat out creepy depending on who you where. It was a good thing those words never actually came out of his mouth. The world he was in tonight was just, well it was magical. He had to say that when he wasn’t lost in his mind thinking about the world of the poem or the lyric, he found the actual world quite boring, all except Roxanne, he found her quite interesting. It was Liam and Roxanne against the world. Together they could live in the magical world but when they left the kitchen at the backs, they were strangers to the magic. Liam didn’t think about magic in more than one sense. There was the magic that they had every day. The magic they conduct with their wands and their minds, it was a part of their being. And then there was the magic he and Roxanne found when they read the great works. He was aware this was cheesy, he knew how it would look if they were ever discovered. But that made it sound like they were doing something physical, they weren’t, just reciting. It was innocent enough to the normal person right? As he read over the first page of Endymion, he absentmindedly started to unscrew the cap of the firewhiskey. This was the stuff he brought with him from home because if he was going to drink anything other than beer it was going to be Irish firewhiskey and not something made down in these parts. He liked the English for many things but he would never give them credit for their alcohol, in his mind, Ireland just did things better in that regard. He learned his snobbery for fine liquor from his father who taught him to drink like a man not long after his eleventh birthday. ‘You will off to school soon, and you will need to learn how to drink properly’ Fine, fine logic from the man. Liam rolled his eyes at the scene now, because there was really nothing in life the man had taught him that he hadn’t first learned from his mother, except for the drinking. Drinking was something the Travers men had always done well. Liam was quite the little champ in his younger years. It didn’t help that he spent a good amount of his youth around his father’s two brothers. When the cap was off, he turned to look around him. He didn’t know if Roxanne would be too keen on the idea of sharing a bottle, both putting their mouths on the same opening, he knew that was a disaster waiting to happen with her. He figured he would avoid that by finding some glasses to pour into. He didn’t feel like bothering the House Elves, they looked to be busy anyways cleaning up and getting things in order for the breakfast rush. Getting up from his seat when he spotted the exact thing he was looking for, he made for the opposite wall where sat a collection of glasses, freshly cleaned. It couldn’t hurt if he took two. Not really caring, he pulled two short glasses from the collection and walked back over to his spot at the table. Sitting down, he took up the bottle and poured a fair amount into one of the glasses. Setting the bottle back down softly and put the cap light back on, he took up his freshly poured glass and took a sip. Drinking this stuff was like drinking water for him now, but it was still satisfying. Closing his eyes he enjoyed the taste of the liquor as it slid down his throat. That was good. Just as he was about to take another sip, he heard a shuffle, a muted giggle and in walked Roxanne. He always enjoyed watching her walk through that door. Smiling softly he watched as she sat and started to take the books carefully out of her bag. “You know I couldn’t.” He gave a knowing smile and cleared his throat. “I’m a little surprised myself to be honest.” When she asked him what he brought her, his eyes went to Endymion and he decided that he would read her part of what he had instead of telling her. “Nor do we merely feel these essences For one short hour; no, even as the trees That whisper round a temple become soon Dear as the temple’s self, so does the moon, The passion poesy, glories infinite, Haunt us till they become a cheering light Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast, That, whether there be shine, or gloom o’ercast, They always must be with us, or we die.” That was so great and shit, it was only the second stanza of the book! Keats hadn’t even really began telling the ‘story of Endymion’ and he would announce, two lines later in the third stanza. He set the book back down and smiled “And Shakespeare, of course.” But everyone knew Shakespeare. Taking up his glass his sipped and gestured for the bottle. After he set his own glass back down he picked the bottle back up. “Care for a night cap miss?” She spoke properly, speaking as if he was part of some romantic scene from one of their novels. “Might I ask you the same? What did you bring?” He was full of questions tonight wasn’t he?TILLIE AT CAUTION

TAG: LIAMWORDS: 1585

I REALIZE I MADE UP A LOT IN THIS POST. IF YOU HAVE ANY PROBLEMS, HOLLER AND I'LL CHANGE THEM. <33