Blasted Dreams: Ron-HermioneTitle: Blasted DreamsBlasted Dreams: Ron-Hermione4 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Pairings: Ron & Hermione :]
AN: This is my first Harry Potter fanfic so please be nice Hope you enjoy it. Comments and tips are highly welcomed. If something doesn't make sense my apologies. [It's 2:30 am and I didn't prove read :/] Anyway, enjoy!
It was dark everything around him shook as a loud blast rumbled. He looked to his left side then to his right a huge sense of disappointment embodied him. Franticly he turned around still no sign of her.
"HERMIONE!" he yelled at the top of his lungs.
"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!" he repeated, still no sign of her.
He ran as fast as he could, to where precisely he didn't know; he just knew he had to find her, he just had to. He climbed the staircase. He didn't care that curses and hexes were flying beside him
"HERMIONE!" He yelled once more, still no reply He turned disoriented, he was quite lost in a place that had
Pretending to be The Doctor.Person on phone: Hello, would you like to buy-Pretending to be The Doctor.3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Me: I am The Doctor, how may I help you?
Person on phone: Well, I am selling this-
Me: Already got ten of those in the TARDIS.
Person on phone: In the what?
Me: The TARDIS. Time and relative dimension in space.
Person on phone: Oh, um, ok. Anyway, I am also selling-
Me: *Engine sounds*
Person on phone: Mam are you alright?
Me: I am The Doctor! Not mam! and no, my TARDIS is on fire!
Person on phone: It is on fire?
Me: Yes! I must be going!
I AM COMING SEXY! DON'T WORRY!
Me: *hangs up*
Always... Book 1 Chapter 4Always... Book 1 Chapter 43 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Surprisingly enough, Snape didn't think about the Potter boy for several days. He completely immersed himself in leading potions classes especially since his N.E.W.T students had only passed their O.W.L.s by the skin of their noses the previous year.
"Potion-making is not a game." He said silkily. He pulled out a very battered copy of Advanced Potion Making by Libatius Borage. "Today," he began, letting the book fall open in his hand. "Today you will be making a draught of Hiccoughing Solution, to induce hiccoughing. The ingredients can be found on page 126." There was a moment of silence. "Well? Get a move on!" He snapped. The class leapt into action.
This class was ridiculously small they all fit around one table. While this did make it easier to observe the class, the Potions Master was still disappointed that so few people chose to extend their potions knowledge beyond the intermediate level.
Why, when he was a student, there had been many more people that had
Running Out of TimeRunning Out of Time4 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
2:27 in the morning.
And I was screwed.
"Crap, why did I ever agree to do this?" I moaned, glaring at the sheet music for the 36th time today. The little music notes danced around in front of my eyes, the senseless tune replaying over and over in my brain.
Why do I always think I can do everything? Hubris, or deadly pride, is a dangerous fatal flaw, and I often find myself biting off more then I can chew.
But now, I find myself in the deepest trouble I've ever been in; I had gotten into a fight with the band's lead guitarist, Tony, on one of the lyrics of our latest Christmas songs. Two wrecked drum sets, one smashed bass and a broken toe later, he had challenged me to re-write the lyrics myself; out of fury, I had quickly agreed.
But now, I wasn't so sure if I could do it.
I tapped my pencil against my temple, racking my brain for inspiration. Glancing around the house, I reprimanded myself for forgetting to decorate for the holiday season again. Though, in my def
Crowley, The King of SexyCrowley, The King of Sexy1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
I don't like him. I can't like him. I won't like him. Him and his stupid voice and his stupid eyes.....uhg.
How can you like someone who's locked you up, god knows where, strapped you to a table, so that he can torture and get information, you don't even know out of you? He fortunately hasn't really done anything yet, he's been busy doing you don't wanna know what. But every time the bastard comes in your heart flutters betraying you.
Oh shit he's coming. This time it won't matter what he does. It won't matter if he talks with that accent, or if he looks at you with those deep dark eyes. It won't matter.
"Hello darling." Dammit.
"How is my favorite "patient"?". He says with a smirk. "Oh you know the bed is fine, the service is terrible." you reply sarcastically. He chuckles softly. "There you go, keep that humor. It'll get you through this."
The words he was saying were so horrible, but said so silkily. The song "I Hate Everythin
JohnLockTitel: JohnLockJohnLock2 years ago in Romance More Like This
Genre: romance i guess?
Author's note: this is 100% fictional
'John, have you seen my phone?' Sherlock asked me. I looked up and frowned.
'Why?' I asked. He never used his phone.
'Because I need it' He said while throwing stuff everywhere and making a mess of the apartement. I sighed.
'It's on the table' I said. He threw everything off the table and found his phone by hearing a soft tud when it landed on the floor. He picked it up and started tapping away. It looked like he was doing something hard, because he had a kind of pained expression on his face. I thought about what he could be doing, but decided to shrug it off and continued to read the paper. I was just about to read something about drunken driving or something, when my phone bleeped, saying I got a text. I picked it up from the little table and saw it was from Sherlock. I frowned and looked at him. He was staring at his feet. Weird, I thought. I opened it.
'Hey John, I think I may kind
Mistaken Chapter 1: JoyI couldn't believe my luck when I opened the letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Inside held my letter for my new assigned books but the light gleaming off my new Head Girl badge made me feel punch-drunk with giddiness. I stared at the badge for a good minute before reason found me. My legs carried me down the stairs as fast they could without tripping.Mistaken Chapter 1: Joy4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Mom Dad, it came. My letter came in", I yelled to my poor surprised parents.
My mom put down the plate of toast on the table and reached for the envelope and took out my book list.
"Oh Hermione, are you sure you are not taking too many classes?"
Her question stopped my gleefulness short as I ran through what classes I had this semester through my head.
"No, mom I do not think so. Besides Professor McGonagall told me it would be possible to pull off the load. Besides, it is my last year and there is still so much to learn about the magical world."
My dad walked over to my mom to check out the list for himself.
Johnlock - Your Experiment? - Fluff"Sorry Sir, we can't let you past here."Johnlock - Your Experiment? - Fluff3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Don't worry, he's with me."
Sherlock reached out and lifted the the crime scene tape for me to duck under. I nodded a thanks and followed him across the street to the house in question. We were working with new recruits, people who had only heard rumours of Sherlock's genius, and a few looks were tossed our way as we entered the building.
I followed him closely, and we ascending the stairs, although Sherlock had more of a skip in his step than I did, so I lagged behind. He entered the room, and was already throwing around conclusions and analysis results before I entered the room.
Watching him work continued to be a source of amazement for me. You would have thought that eventually watching his mind work would have become monotonous, but yet I stood back and watched as he checked under every surface and observed every possible conclusion to the case. He certainly was a great specimen. He faced Mycroft and gave him his conclusions, which even ha
Emotions of the sky"Mom, can you distract me please?" She looked at me thoughtfully, apparently my strangness has finally become normal to her.Emotions of the sky4 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
"What kind of distraction are you looking for?"
"I'll need a bit of information, what do you need distracting from?" Good question. Myself? that sounds about right, not that I'll ever tell her that. She worries too much.
"The computer? The thoughts roaming my head?"
"Are those questions or answers?" She turns back to her cooking, with a smile on her face.
"Of course, because you could never be simple."
"I could, but wouldn't you find it boring?"
"Don't know till we have a go, do we?"
"Can we go back to my request please."
"I thought I was distracting you." This is going no where, I get up to leave. "Sit down girl, I was only making conversation. Now, a distraction. . . . Once when you were little, only about three or four, we were driving back from your Aunt's and it started raining. Your favouite type of rain, raindrops pouring from the cloud
Everybody CheatsThey played pokerEverybody Cheats4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
At three in the morning
With a royal straight flush
While she held
A hand of five aces
tears don't drown your sorrowlost one,tears don't drown your sorrow4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Why do you always seem so sad? Your eyes are deep cerulean swirls of the sea, calm on the surface but fatal underneath with endless anfractuosities. Crestfallen rivers find their way down your cheeks and fall like raindrops on your cold hands.
If you were a song you would be the most broken and desolate winter nocturne in solo. You would be the beautiful heartbreaking tune of the violinist in the park, leaning down to close his old case full of coins.
You said you could play the piano for hours, from sunrise to sunset and into the quiescent night, but I know your slender fingers always remain the same temperature---below zero. And sometimes, your heartbeat is so silent and your eyes so icy blue I could almost see the snowflakes waltzing in them, an endless snowstorm. What happened to your passion?
When the show is over, the stage swept sterile and the actors all gone home to live in the monstrous truth, you sit in the dark and hear the walls breathing, and the whisper war in
reality vs. my mindin reality i hear the alarm. uncaring and cold and mechanical.reality vs. my mind4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
in my mind i feel you kissing my fingertips, gently lulling me out of slumber.
in reality i drag myself out of my bed, the temperature of the room a thousand degrees colder than what my own body heat had warmed the sheets to.
in my mind you give me your shirt to wear. you know how cold i get. i sniff the collar, and yes - it smells exactly like you.
in reality my hair is going grey. my eyes are dull, my face is sunken, i have lost my youthful shape.
in my mind i am your perfection. you love my chocolate eyes and honey hair, you stroke my cheeks and run your hands across every inch of my body.
in reality i am a hollow shell of what i used to be. and if anybody asks, nothing is wrong. nothing is ever wrong. i shake it off with a smile and a laugh.
in my mind you draw the truth from my hoarse throat, holding me so close so i don't fall apart. and if i do break, you piece me back together with a sugarcoated tongue and kisses on
The Pictures That Haunt Me Imagine watching your completely normal-sized friend visibly grow thinner each day as she slowly starves herself. You recognize her actions, and you know that everyone else does too, but no one will speak up. Years later, you see her again, and she weighs even less than before. You know that she is killing herself, but you still don't tell because you no longer believe that it is your place to do so.The Pictures That Haunt Me4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Then you watch yourself become that girl. You don't have time to eat, but then again, you don't want to anyway. Society has warped your perspective of yourself. You have been under constant scrutiny your entire life, being criticized for everything you do, especially for what you eat or don't eat. You finally give in and watch yourself fade away. You're scared that you can't stop, but even if you could, you don't want to.
Looking back to a couple of years ago, you remember watching your best friend ge
A secret wish sometimes while I'm going about my day,A secret wish4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
it pounces into my head and heart
and holds on with claws so sharp
it hurts more to shake it away
than it does to let it stay.
Could you say the same?
I think of our past
because the only alternative
is to scream and cry
Did you feel that pain?
all I could do
was stay on the telephone
but I couldnt even do that
because you wanted to be left alone
What did your mind contain?
you used to talk
about your past
and it made me feel
like I was holding
an angel in my hands
Why did you never try to explain?
I still have you in my phone
and pray and pray
for the call that wil
Counting.Let me count the ways:Counting.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
1 day I met you and we were
2 young to understand what you'd mean to me in
3 years time when we became friends
4 years to come, and when we'd talk for
5 hours straight on the computer and i'd sit up
6 hours a night thinking about if you were more than a friend. And when the
7 days of the week would pass i'd be thrilled to see you again on Monday.
8 years had tortured me as I passed through middle school and my
9th year of education made me realize what you mean to me and in
10 wretched years... I fell in love.
~Don't give up. Don't give in. In the end your love will win.~
50 Quickies LOL50 Quickies LOL6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
50 sentences of Harry Potter Next Gen goodness!! These are all my takes on their personalities, and some warping of stuff JK Rowling said about the next gen. Warning: some gay stuff in here, aight?!
Albus had become terminally afraid of telephones after picking it up one day and hearing his Uncle Ron bellowing at him from the other end; Harry had had a little chat with Ron afterwards, but unfortunately the damage was done.
Not everyones father got to be a hero! Scorpius snarled at Albus in the suddenly silent Great Hall.
Some nights the children would wake up to hear their fathers muffled yells and they would tremble to think of what could possibly scare their father who was so brave.
James stared suspiciously at Uncle Georges present, not sure whether to take his statement It wont bite as a good thing.
Lily tapped her wand once, twice against her palm and her brothers went deathly pale;
Disappearance of Anne MorganTottering in dark blue heels and clutching a gun like you know how to use it, you collapse against a tree like your backbone has turned to fine glass.Disappearance of Anne Morgan4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
You've established that the ground tastes of oranges and tomatoes, and reminds you of last summer and the fresh smell of fruit; the pleasure of knowing that you have given birth to something, although the doctor tells you that the way you want it will never be possible. The way he said it, it wasn't awful, it wasn't the end of everything, it wasn't the end of scarlet hair; it was just another woman who could never have a child. But the way you heard it, it was the end of your future. Who knew that two words could kill you? I'm sorry. That's it, that's all you heard before he launched into his clinical speech like a rocket into space, except nowhere near as beautiful. But 'I'm sorry' is all you needed to hear to have all that awful knowing inside like a disease rooting itself in your bones and eating away at the corners of y
fireworks of life" Do you ever think of life?"fireworks of life4 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
" In a way."
" I do as well."
" . . . Why did you ask?"
" Because I wanted a discussion."
" Of ?"
" Why we bother to stay alive if there's no point to us."
" . . . Would you like me to tell you how I think of it?"
" Sure, why not?"
" Have you ever watched a fireworks display? One that you watch from afar and have no idea how it's going to look or whats going to happen?"
" Yeah, I watched a professonal one once."
" I dont mean a professional one. Just while your sitting in the garden and in the distance you see them and end up watching."
" Visualise it."
" Every single firework is a life. It grows and grows, flames at its most beautiful and then it dies away, all in the space of a few seconds. That is what life is, a fireworks display that you have no control over and is so beautiful you believe that its impossible for it to be chance and that there must be some creature, human or otherwise that is creating this magnificent display
Critic vs Writer: A Conversation of ReconciliationI am a book blogger.Critic vs Writer: A Conversation of Reconciliation2 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
Since not everyone is familiar with the term, I'll go ahead and lay it out for you. I read, analyze, and write about books. I give my opinion on characters, setting, genre, style, and sometimes even covers. I say what works, what doesn't, and what I'd like to see.
In short, I criticize.
Back - back foul demon! Burn the witch! Don't come anywhere near me!
Yeah, I know you're all thinking it. What gives me the right to rifle through someone's hard work and put its flaws on display? Who do I think I am, slandering authors with false interpretations and quotes made out of context?
I'm a writer.
Yeah, of nothing but muck and lies.
No, no, I mean I write my own fiction. Or at least I did.
What, couldn't take some of your own medicine?
Yes and no.
Like most writers, I crave exposure. I want my work out there, read by the masses and enjoyed. DeviantArt, my blog, they're both small outlets where my writing can be seen.
But, as most writers
The Empress' Throne Room The Empress sat on her throne, the fractal starburst of faceted crystals behind her limned her silhouette in a pearlescent radiance. The throne itself rested upon a polished black marble plinth and an ornate dais of gold and topaz that reflected the heat and light from nearby braziers onto the crystalline throne. Small fragments of crystal hovered around the throne as though orbiting the empress. Before her was her personal guard; twelve men who stood silent sentinel before her throne; each dressed in the uniform black and white silk cloaks and jewel-eyed bronze masks that marked their station. In the center of the chamber a single man knelt on the polished stone floor, naked except for a white linen drape wrapped around his waist. His gaze never lifted from the delicate golden engraving in the veined stone.The Empress' Throne Room6 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
An aviary adjoined the room; its large gates of wrought gold sepa
L I A RL augh in front of my faceL I A R4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I gnite my humiliation within
A nguish of this unfair race
R emember me, I've committed no sin.
Dreams Like Smoke I'm a burnt-out boy with a broken guitar and three wishes to spare. I sleep with them under my pillow and try to dream of happiness. But I know that you'll disappear if I open my eyes. So I told you I thought I loved you but you just looked at me with those eyes and saidDreams Like Smoke4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
This isn't a fairytale, lover boy.
We both know I'm too young to recognize the taste of tears.
I wished for fiery passion.
And your lips tasted like ashes.
I wished that you'd see me for who I am.
The Warrior ComplexIt's the reason I can't look at myself in the mirror some days.The Warrior Complex4 years ago in Settings More Like This
And, on other days I can stand there without holding shame.
Some call it the actions of the prideful, when it's the actions of the headstrong.
Actions of the past have made me ashamed to even be me.
It's no life to live being around people when all you do is fuck up again and again.
Other actions taken under the same mentality have made me mighty happy.
Sometimes, it's because I'm the bad guy, and sometimes it's me just being the nice guy.
Some call it the Bastard Complex, but it's the Warrior Complex.
A mentality of the extreme that's not compatible with civilian life.
And it's only compatible with a few people of the world, which is evident.
I've been told I should be ashamed of myself, that I'm a bastard.
I won't be ashamed of myself, for I am just me.
If it makes me a bastard and people forsake me, then that's just how it's going to be.