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The Greater Part of Valor [chapter 1]AN:: Don’t own Harry Potter, Iron Man, or Avengers; just get that clear.
“Aunt Harri! There’s someone for you at the door!” Teddy yelled from the hallway.
Harri’s head shot up from the potion she had been working on as a porcupine quill fell in, causing it to explode in her face. The house shook as a door was thrown open and a disheveled Harri came stumbling through, “Teddy! What have I told you about yelling in the house?”
“Not to…” Teddy said with a wide smile before running past Harri into the kitchen. Harri smiled and shook her head before heading to the front door and opening it to reveal Blackfang, the goblin in charge of all her accounts.
“Ah, Blackfang, may you vaults be ever flowing.” Harri said with the customary greeting.
Blackfang nodded, “And yours as well. May I come in?”
Harri nodded and stepped out of the way, letting him in before leadi
The Greater Part of Valor [Prologue]Pairing: Fem! Harry Potter/Tony Stark [aka] Iron Man
Summary: After the war with Voldemort, Harribelle spent her time holed up in Grimmauld Place, studying various bits and pieces that interested her around the world. She became proficient in many languages along with other various things. But after taking on potions and charms, learning the basics and adding them up, she slowly became a master. After ten years though, life has gotten away from her and suddenly a goblin shows up and informs her of something she never thought possible. Packing her things and sending an owl to the Weasley’s, she heads out to New York City, the city of new beginnings.
AN:: Just so you all know, 1, I don’t own Harry Potter or Iron Man nor Avengers. 2, this is my NANOWRIMO thing so don’t get mad that I’m not going on with my other stories. I’ve been lazy writing these first few days and I plan on picking up later on!
Voldemort cackled as he led the small
I remember (9/11)I remember sitting in my class,
I was in kindergarten you see,
And a teacher came running in
And whispered to the sub.
The panic I saw in her eyes
Caused me to want to run.
It was terrible when she turned on the TV.
We sat there, stunned,
As the smoke and ash billowed
As people were seen jumping.
My classmates broke into tears
But I was too shocked to do anything.
You see, my mother was watching it too
And she held me when I got home.
I still hadn't cried though.
I was too young to know what had happened.
And years later, I finally understood
What had happened.
I found a song that caused goosebumps
That caused me to cry,
It caused me to think back on that day
And realize how emotionless I had been.
No one ever really explained things to me
In a way where I would understand
I knew what had happened
But the pain they felt hadn't affected me.
And when I first heard that song...
I finally understood,
I understood their pain,
And I felt depressed.
A few years later,
My mind deals with
Overcomes my judgement
Today it's no different
I can't take it anymore
Observing my image but
Nothing is revealed
I Saw a Burning ManIn front of my house, he sat.
Skin burnt off, now charred and black.
Hesitantly, I walked outside.
And he followed me with his watery eyes.
With steps as nimble as the snow,
I hid my fear and continued to go.
Now before him, the Burning Man.
I kindly offered him my shaky hand.
No malice nor vice leaked off of him,
rather sadness and agony which simmered below his skin.
I could feel it around me, the pain and despair,
yet, physically the man was nearly repaired.
For his scorched skin was not his problem,
instead the bottled emotions that devoured all of him.
“Would you like to come inside sir, and stay?”
In which he replied by looking away.
Again I asked, and received no reply,
and was startled when the man began to cry.
Unsure of what to do, I walked away,
Yet I’ll never forget what happened that day.
Be it from pain, or mute, or undisclosed desires,
I watched as the man was engulfed in fire.
I stood back in awe, with my mouth agape,
and feared that he had fallen into
little victories.when i was younger,
i thought i was the strongest
little girl in the world
because i could easily
beat my older brother
at arm wrestling.
it wasn't until years later
that i realized
To the person who holds my best friend's heart...I know that is is kind of weird
But I felt that I should write this down.
I need to tell you what I feel
And tell you what he means to me.
He's my best friend and he's a good man.
Please, give him the love and respect he deserves.
He may seem goofy but he's very sweet.
I know this because he was always there for me when I was sad.
Now, I know that you're not bad
Cause he would never choose someone who's mean.
But I still want to tell you just in case you forget in the future;
Please don't break his heart.
He's been through so much
And he doesn't deserve something like that.
He is the kind of person who smiles even when he's hurt by others
And would take any pain for the people he loves.
I know, I've witnessed it.
I know he may seem kind of childish sometimes
But don't let it get to you.
It's just his way of expressing himself.
He's very caring and I'm sure he'll do anything to make you happy.
He doesn't look like it but he's very kind and thoughtful.
He'll put your needs before h
in which I gain sentiencesave room
for doubt, in the silence between
religious guilt and stolen
body heat. I am made of helium.
in my dreams they
pop me and
watch me flutter. I wonder if everyone
else’s head is so congested as mine,
hyperactive with inattentive people.
you are never serious--
he stares at me in a different
set of eyes; there are words
I cannot say, there are
things I cannot tell you.
(twice a week
I watch the people I love
leave me for good.
spiders in my throat,
And There Was Lighti.
He was seventeen when he died.
I never went to the funeral
but I walked past it the day of
the service. His mother
was in the backseat of a blue Dodge,
door open, head in her hands.
"My baby," she kept repeating.
"My baby." It would go from sobbing, to
screaming, to a soft whisper that
I could only hear being carried
on the wind.
It was a Wednesday afternoon that they found
his old red pickup truck parked
out front of Slim's, two beer bottles in
the back and the windows cracked to let the stale
I heard that his dad told the police he was
gonna take that old truck and fix it up, because
he had promised his son before—
because it's always in the before—
And in the after, his mother never had dry eyes
and I'm pretty sure my mom told me
that she saw his dad at the bar every night,
drinking his sorrows down because some people can't
handle the stress.
Some people can't figure out why their son would
"Some men just want to w
1:33 amto the angry young
hungry ocean eyes:
i do not wish to know
what crawled inside
your ribs to
i just wish you would
let it leave.
Can you look deeper?You see that girl you just bullied?
The one you harassed over her choice of art?
The art of a man beating a woman to death?
She saw her father kill her mother when she was five.
You know that man who likes to photograph himself in dresses?
The one you called a homo because of his choice of clothing?
Well, his parents wanted him to be a girl instead of a boy.
So they made him dress like that everyday to pretend he was a girl.
You know that woman who writes stories about child rape?
The one you bullied until she didn’t know how to cope with life anymore
Her uncle has been in jail for the past eleven years.
He raped her daily for seven years of her life.
What about that guy who favored abstract artwork?
Do you remember him he liked to use the colors red and black a lot.
He was nearly beaten to death when he was fourteen.
He only knows nightmares because he remembers seeing his blood on the wall.
What about me? Do you remember me? Even just a teensy little bit?
You bullied me because
Dying daysI'm not the one you wished for
I'm not the one you chose
But no matter what I'm the one
Who's always there for you
But you took my kindness
And smeared my name
Dragging it down the alley
And fucking it like a whore
Is this all I am to you?
All that I have done for you...
Is it for not?
What could happen
What if I had left you there
Crying on the city street?
What if I had never welcomed
You into my home?
Would you be the same
As you are today?
The one who stole my heart
Only to give it away?
You took my pride and crushed it
Shattering it to bits.
Following with my dignity
Which you ripped to shreds.
Is this all I am to you?
A silly little whore?
One that you can fuck all day
Is this all I am worth?
Not even getting away...
I still love you more and more
With each new dying day
But this pain I cannot stand
Which is why you're here
Crying as you're dying now
With my silver scissors...
But alone you come back to me
Begging pleading me to stay
But now you lay here dying
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More