Holding the tears that threatened to spill, I ran up the staircase and straight for the bathroom. I just couldn't let anybody see my cry, because that's not what usually happened. I didn't cry yesterday, so I can't cry today, because that would be change, and in such a household as this, changing is forbidden. But still, the tears fall and I wonder again how it came to this...

There was vehemence in the way they crashed against each other, the way he slammed her against the wall with every thrust and the way she bit down on the rough fingers that curled inside her mouth, choking her into silence. It was vicious, frenzied, chaotic. An explosion of violence fuelled by the pain that'd been festering within them for far too long.

The slow eroding of your heart was as insidious as any cancer. All of a sudden you forgot how to be a sister, a daughter, a lover. You forgot youth and joy and love. All of a sudden you needed music louder than your thoughts, and words stronger than your emptiness. You needed a rope, a razor, a whole bottle of pills.

Jean Kirschtein always thought superheroes were fools, and nothing could really change that. However waking up with two days' worth of amnesia and a lichtenberg figure scar running down his spine definitely put a spin on such an opinion, especially when the one who found him was Marco Bodt, healer and hero in his own right... (jeanmarco superhero!AU)

This is the story of the many summers spent by Sirius Black with his estranged Uncle Alphard on a farm at the edge of a very dark forest, the strange scared boy named Remus Lupin who ran with wolves, the even stranger friendship that blooms between them through the years and everything after. Wolfstar Fantasy!AU.

He smiled warily, and stared at the women before him. They'd lost contact during the years and seeing her now, bottle of red wine in one hand wearing boxers with little rainbows on them and a mismatched tank top and the ever-present scar he himself had given her all those years ago cut down her face, was almost like a stab to the gut. Metamorphmagus or not, she had changed, aged.

Everybody grows up with the knowledge that life will shape them, mould them. Experience will carve wrinkles in their faces and sadness with gleam in their eyes. Stress will age them beyond their years and love will make them glow, but I didn't have this. There was no constant. When I'm eighty and I wake in the morning, I will not see what the world gave me but what I made myself.