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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,
When you lose a best friendWhen we said friends forever and
crossed pinkies like grade-schoolers,
I could only believe those words
lodged in your heart
like they did mine
because every time I think back
I can't help but remember the
under star lit constellations,
and study sessions where we
learned more about each other
than we did Biology
but now it's clear
that each beat of your heart
has made those words fade,
and you could care less
about crossed pinkies
but I'll still see you,
and hear your voice
and I'll still wish
the meaning hadn't changed-
At peace within this tranquil garden,
I picture the moments where I've made you smile.
Those times are endlessly precious to me,
I think they're worth the while.
They're worth the time I've spent with you,
Even if it wasn't long.
I only wish I'd spent a little more,
Before our love was gone.
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
She's an artistShe's an artist.
Always seems to be daydreaming,
She draws to escape her pain.
Cause for a single moment,
When her work is done.
It seems like there is no more rain.
And she could finally touch the sun.
The one that shines so brightly in her paintings.
But then it's gone,
So she keeps drawing,
She's become good at escaping.
Running from reality.
Because dreams are the only things she wants,
Her imagination is the only thing she's ever known.
And it's sad really...
Because she tries so hard to be happy.
But the most beautiful thing she could ever create.
Was that smile upon her face,
And that is the one thing that remains blank.
Waiting to someday be something more than,
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
Still HereSuicide is a
Thought that frequently lurks
In my mind, wich
Lets it overcome the
Laughter and happiness
Here I still fight, however
Enduring this sad life
Reviving my hopes
Embracing the gift of life
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
Fake smileWith needles and threads I sew to make this smile remain
a fake smile indeed but thats what it takes
to be treated normal once again
between my vertebrae, you are (cemeterial)oh, these writers never speak; they
claw words out of bird carcasses,
poets pecking viscera like necropolitans.
they count their ribs to remind you
of a corpse or of a matchstick. dry bones
between fissured wrists & funeral pyres,
these have been dying days &
they're all mortuaries.
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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