Thanks to those who review!
We don't own anything, not even the computer this is being typed on.
Lily, James, and Melanie by Paige. (me)
Sirius, Remus, and Beth by Tessa. (not me)
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The writer has now decided to embark on a random chapter containing diary entries from each character , because every person in this story obviously keeps a diary and/or journal into which they happen to spill all the secrets of the innermost crevices of their dynamic and complex psyches, revealing their deepest, truest feelings which, in this case, happen to be of undying love for the other diary writers, creating an intricate and multi-faceted Love Squectangle. Word.
Lily Evans
Dear Diary,
James Potter is the most disgusting human being it has ever been my misfortune to be within a five hundred-mile radius of. His face makes me want to vomit. Every time he speaks, millions of children in Somalia cry as their kittens burst into flames. I hate him. My hate for him blazes with the passion of a thousand suns showering millions of hate sparks across the universe of hate. No ocean can quench it, no feast can satisfy it, no whorehouse can slake the lust of my ardent hate for James Potter.
Later:
I think I have miraculously fallen out of hate with James Potter in a span of twenty three minutes. Except now I've just fallen back into hate with him temporarily upon puking at the mention of his first name. And yet he's suddenly become so sensitive, caring, and morally-centered. Oh gosh, I'm losing it. I've only just noticed that I have a fiery, burning not-hate for the one person I've been determined to always not have not-hate for. My not-hate for him blazes with the passion of a thousand suns showering millions of not-hate sparks across the universe of non-hate. No ocean could quench it, no feast could satisfy it, no whorehouse could slake the lust of my ardent not-hate. Could this even be… toleration!? No, Lily, no. Get a hold on yourself. You are an upstanding, independent, feminist, self-sufficient, free-thinking young woman that talks to herself in second person who shall not be swayed into not-hate by the temporary actions of one so hate-worthy as James Potter.
HE'S SO FREAKING HOT THOUGH. Woah. That remark was way too effeminate for your character.
HIS VISAGE IS QUITE AESTHETICALLY PLEASING. That's better.
What does he think he's doing dating that concubine Jasmine? She's not even pretty. And she said yes the FIRST TIME he asked her out. What a tramp. My usual standby is to wait until the guy asks you out at least twenty times, but I'll settle for seventeen if he's really cute. Which reminds me, James' visage is quite aesthetically pleasing.
…
I just called him James. With no addition of 'Potter', 'Toe rag', or 'Cocktease'.
Where will this not-hate end? It's toleration now, but what's next? Acceptance? Approval? FRIENDSHIP?!
No, I can't let that happen. No one can know of this wanton not-hate of James Potter.
-LE
Moonshine-Sunflower-Fairy-Twinkle-Rainbow-Face Smith (Beth)
Dear Diary,
So, despite the fact that I am a far too sexually appealing and whorish blonde with very little self respect and a willingness to be a total one night stand, Sirius still doesn't like me. He keeps like, ignoring me for that whore-slut-bitch-best-friend of mine, Melanie. I think my life is over because I am so completely shallow and two-dimensional that my entire existence is defined simply by how willingly hot guys want to do me. I think I should just move to Paris and become a tortured artist, bumming pennies off tourists and preaching about the apocalypse. I'd probably be happier. I don't know what else to do!
Lily is off in her dream world freaking out about God-knows-what in the corner and muttering about "hate" and "vomit" and "crying children in Somalia", and Melanie is a total bitch who is too busy being less attractive than me to really be much help, so I am completely alone in my sorrow and have no one to complain to… I mean console me.
God! I feels like someone ripped my soul out and played jump rope with it before flushing it down the toilet, plunging it back up again, forcing it to watch twelve hours of Days of Our Lives on reverse, dragging it behind an ancient Roman Chariot while making it memorize War and Peace and then throwing it into a blender and laughing as my inner most thoughts, feelings, and dreams are torn into pointless, insignificant, shreds on the sidewalk of humanity.
Wait-- I realize now what is happening. The only way any male in possession of a functional sexual organ could resist me... He's gay! Yes of course, Sirius Black is a total poof! Ignoring the fact that he often, and publicly, plays tonsil-hockey with many attractive females, it makes wonderful and perfect sense. Well, at least I know now, I should tot def ask him to go shopping with me, we'll be just like Will and Grace! Haha kthanxbye.
xoxo Beth
James Potter
Dear Journal-majiggy-type-thing,
'L' is for the undying love I feel. 'I' is for I love, and I feel it undyingly. The other 'L' is still for love, which I also feel eternally. And 'Y' is for, um... yeti. Love yeti.
I can't help this stalker-like impulse that bubbles forth from me all hours of the day like a cascading river of sunshine barf and bad acrostic poems. Every time I look at her, I just get enveloped by the red of her hair and the green of her eyes. It's like Christmas. Who doesn't like fucking Christmas? Though I don't really understand how we perform pagan rituals in the classroom on a regular basis and represent every thing that is considered blasphemous and heretical by the Christian church, and yet we still celebrate the birth of cute little baby-waby Jesus H. Christ. But that's beside the point.
I bet Lily is Jesus. She's so perfect. Or maybe she's an angel. Yeah, she keeps her wings hidden under her fashionable sweater vest and unfurls them at night when no one's watching, revealing their holy splendor of sparkly rainbow cloud fluff and things. And then she flies about in the dead of night saving the world from the evil of Sr. Tooth Decay, but returns just before dawn, weary from her travels but satisfied with the though that she has kept the world safe from the evils of periodontal disease for yet another day. It's got to be true! But how the hell to you get a holy messenger to go on one damn date with you? Jeez, this is gonna be harder than I thought.
*GIANT FLASHING LIGHT BULB*
Idea: maybe if I date a girl less worthy than Lily, God will get really pissed and almost smite us, but then realize that we are destined to be together, at least for a few weeks before I get totally smashed and cheat on her with some air-head and we have an explosive and messy break-up in the Great Hall much to the amusement and horror of all those who bear witness as she smacks me and my head flies off and lands in Professor Krueger's pudding. Or, you know, forever or something.
You know, deep down I'm not that bad of a guy. I know that at times I can be arrogant, pushy, destructive, murderous, criminal, cannibalistic, and toe-raggish, but lately I've been noticing that I've become more sensitive, caring, and morally-centered. I secretly enjoy chick flicks and the occasional pina colada or walk in the rain. The last time I cried was forty minutes ago, and the time before that was yesterday when I saw someone across the hall stub their toe. I really felt their pain.
Maybe Lily would love me if she saw the sensitive, caring, morally-centered side of me. Oh who am I kidding, finding some random whore to make her jealous will work much better. It always does, right?
I will one day be with my Snuggly-Poo-Snookums-Sweetie-Pie-HoneyBunchesofOatswithAlmonds-Cupcake-Darling. I must, or my name isn't James (Thurston) Potter!
James P.
Sirius Black
Dear Journal… not in the least bit girly journal… a manly, not gayish journal where I can express myself and not be girly… which I am… not girly, that is… right?… Right??... RIGHT?!?!?!?!
Sorry, I felt an unexplainable and horrifically potent need to express my extreme not-girlyness due to a sudden feeling of losing a good lay with a slutty blonde chick… but I guess I'm just being too paranoid.
So oddly specific foreboding aside I have had a phenomenal first day. Excluding the several uncalled for slaps from random females, I have successfully made out with a hot American chick whose name I don't know and have no intention of ever finding out… even though we did do so on top of the food-laden House Table and now I have to comb mashed potatoes and funfetti out of my long, flowing raven locks.
I also feel a bit of discord brewing in my little group of chums. James is in the corner of the room sacrificing a goat to his Lily shrine as usual, but I find that Moony is acting a bit hostile towards me. I suppose it may just be another of my odd paranoia. I mean aside from the hundreds of handwritten death threats and the decapitated head of a shockingly realistic voodoo doll of me I found in my bed , I guess he really hasn't shown any true anger towards me, but I just get the feeling.
Owww… damn it… why does everyone feel the need to slap me….God and this time it wasn't even a chick, just Peter in a wig and his mum's dress. I guess it's my sexy. It's just so great those girls feel the uncontrollable need to touch me, and they get over-excited and end up hitting me… yeah that's it… it's totally not because I'm a complete man-whore who has very little respect for most of the many girls he has fooled around with... Yeah, I'm gonna go stare at my endless good looks in yonder mirror and pretend that Peter isn't doing a runway walk in that dress and Moony isn't sharpening that meat cleaver and staring at me with wicked intent, and so I bid you a manly and testosterone filled 'Toodles'.
-S
Mary-Ella-Ribbon Dancer -Candy Stripe- Porcupine-Dove Johnson (Melanie)
My Dearest Diary,
My life is over as I know it because Daddy didn't get me a new flying pony before he was murdered by Lord Voldemort. Now how am I gonna get one?! And it sucks, because I just recently rediscovered him after he abused my pregnant mother and set her on the streets to be a crack dealer, where she had me and taught me how to hustle.
It wasn't that bad though because I'm a metamorphmagus and could transform into hot girls when I got lonely. My normal appearance is shining ebony hair with rainbow tips, sparkly pink eyes, a lip ring and a 'Thug Life' tattoo on my lower back (It's so tot cute!). I finally met my father when I was working my nine-to-five as a meth chemist for the homeless; I recognized him immediately because I'd had a premonition that we'd meet in the near future. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that I'm a seer, too?
Well anywayz, my Daddy came to find me and took me off the streets when I became an orphan after Mom accidentally skewered herself through her eye to her brain with her mack-daddy's wand in the middle of the night. It was then that I found out that he was actually the Supreme Chancellor of Wizard America, making me basically Princess. I was finally where I belonged, being adored by the whole wizarding community, and then the muggle community too once I scored a guest spot on Hannah Montana and they were so impressed that they kicked old Smiley Whatsherface off and made me the lead.
That all changed last Thursday, when Daddy was out late again at one his strip backgammon games. I was just dismissing my personal 'Tell me I'm pretty' maid, when suddenly Fenrir Greyback and his boyfriend, L'Armandstat, jumped in through the window and pounced on my fragile female form. I was able to send them running with my awesome unicorn-kitten patronus, but not before they had turned me into a werewolf. Then I got the news that Daddy was dead and I cried because I knew there was no way I was getting my pony now.
So they shipped me off from American to come to Hogwarts. James and Sirius are like so in love with me already, they wanna make me an honorary Marauder!
I heart England!
Love,
Your favorite metamorphmagus/seer/princess/werewolf/honorary Marauder
Remus Lupin
Dear Diary,
I have, as of today, decided to murder one of my best friends. No, it's not for revealing the fact I am an uncontrollable monster. No it's not for the mass murder of those I care about. He hasn't even called me a dirty name. It's something much worse: he soooo stole a pretty girl who I saw first and was gonna claim…eventually. But I am of course undyingly in love with said new girl whose name I can't recall but whose sparkly pink eyes and horrible personality draw me in. So I must murder Sirius Black to gain her for myself because nothing draws a girl in like cold-blooded murder! My plan is a simple three step process.
1) Humiliate him.
2) Capture him and reveal plot.
3) Kill him.
Now the finer details of said plot I will work out as I sharpen various Medieval torture devices in the lair of destruction I dug under my bed. Little details such as actually succeeding in getting away with my brutal plot and escaping a long prison sentence during which I would undoubtedly become the "Bitch" to some fat guy named Frank with a hairy back. Not to mention the horrible guilt which will consume me after I've overcome my blind rage and realized I have killed off one of the only people who understands and supports what I am and has been unshakably loyal. But whatever, that'll be a cinch to work around I'm sure.
The horrid betrayal that lump of human filth I once called a friend has inflicted on me was totally on purpose, too, because he was very aware I was deeply in love with pretty-girl-whose-name-I forgot and his make-out session with her had nothing to do with his extreme attractiveness but more to do with hurting me! I am most defiantly in love with pretty-girl-whose-name-I-forgot because those 3 or 4 words we shared definitely made me see she was so much more than a pretty faced slut bag but also a very deep person whose seen a hard road full of drug abuse, prostitution, and bad pop songs.
Alright, I'm done being out of character for now, I'll think I'll remove myself from my lair and read a nice book. TTFN!
Remus
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