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[16 Apr 2007|09:10am] |
I went back to look up something in Chamber of Secrets, noticed a little action, and this drabble was born.
Hey, guess what? They're eating breakfast! It's formally a motif of mine.
Warning: incredibly goofy.
Speaking Volumes
Rating: PG, for the vaguest of suggestions, and snogging.
Summary: Ron can write fanfic, too.
Wordcount: 1280.
She thought she knew every facet of his face. Every freckle, as they came and went with the sunshine; his nose, long and sloping; his eyes, telegraphing his every emotion; his fringe, obscuring expressive brows more and more as the year dragged on; his ears, which stuck out just a touch too much...
One morning in the great hall, out of the blue, she noticed the notch.
There, on the tip.
( A tiny chunk of ear was gone. )
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[31 Mar 2007|11:56am] |
Computer fixed after too many months of turmoil. Time to catch up on the tiny slice of fandom I follow.
Tragically, the Deathly Hollows cover does not feature our team making out---not even a chance of furtive groping in the wretched British kiddies edition. Sadness.
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[08 Nov 2006|11:07am] |
I didn't mean to write two fics in a row that were set over breakfast. But, well, it's the most important meal of the day?
Note - I just sort of wrote this, without intending to. It just all spilled out, and I'm leaving it like it is, unedited, because that feels right. So here we go.
Night and Day
Rating: PG, if that. It's fluff, quiet and soft. A tiny bit of angst.
Summary: There's quiet, even while hunting horcruxes. Ron and Hermione share some observations over breakfast.
Wordcount: A touch over a thousand.
( Food was simple, on the move. Basic sandwiches, fruits, transfigured pine cones---when it's her turn to do it, she imagines she can still taste the bark. She wonders if they can, too, and are just too polite to say so. )
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[19 Aug 2006|04:55pm] |
I just finished re-reading the whole series to sort of take a canon refresher, and there's no denying one thing. Ron has absolutely no clue about Hermione until HBP. Sure, he's all a-twitter in GOF. But that's not concious jealousy. That's knee-jerk. Hermione, however, is obviously aware and into him reasonably deep by then, if not a little earlier.
Poor, poor Hermione, is my angle here. As fond as I am of Ron Weasley, he's sort of a git and an idiot. While I ship them even harder after this excercise, now I'm reading some fanfic and going, "Come ON. This boy barely knows what color her eyes are."
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[12 May 2006|01:56am] |
Well, God, here we go. When I talked myself into starting this journal, I didn't see what the harm was. "So you're watching a fandom again," I thought, "so what? No harm in lurking."
And here I am, having written my first fanfic in, christ, six years? Seven? I'm not proud of this relapse, because I reckon it's just the first drop of a deluge. But I guess I'm slightly more eligible than some to write for these characters as I actually wore a uniform to school for, um, far too many years. Really, that means I'm obligated. ...yes.
Anyway, here we go. Let's see if I can remember how to do this.
Title: Tights.
Pairings: Oblivious R/Hr, H/G (I didn't plan on the latter, but there you go).
Rating: PG, for fluff rated Pretty Goony.
Summary: It's morning in Hogwarts, and an exam is looming. But Ron, Harry, and Ginny have far more interesting things to discuss than Potions---to Hermione's chagrin.
Technicalities: Just a touch over 1600 words, filled with people belonging to J.K. Rowling.
( Somewhere in the regulations of Hogwarts, one could find that one rule had gone unbroken for decades: The closer the exam, the quieter the breakfast. )
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| Assume that I'm always discussing R/Hr, because I will always be discussing R/Hr. |
[11 May 2006|01:10am] |
This was to be my secret!cryptic!journal, but now that, in terms of friending, it's my secret!fandom!journal, I may as well post accordingly. Hang that banner high, and all.
I just read this: cute, oh-so-fluffy fic that was very light and sweet for a good ten chapters... and then ended on a dick joke.
How do you do that? How do you think that ending with a dick joke is a fine idea? I actually said aloud to my computer screen, "You're shitting me." But no; I was not being shat at all.
I don't expect Shakespeare from fanfiction, but damnation, I hope for more than dick jokes. ...not that he wasn't prone to dick jokes, our William, but at least he had an excuse.
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[07 Jan 2006|09:45am] |
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One must simply cowboy up and punch rotters. Simple as that.
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[23 Dec 2005|11:08pm] |
People for whom writing is easy?
Fuck them.
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[18 Dec 2005|12:00am] |
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I like a fellow and I don't know what to do about it. Oldest story ever told. Eve's livejournal said the same thing on day one, I bet.
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