these twists and turns of fate.

no no no no no no

blouise26@gmail.com — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 09:43:05 GMT

Later on, Hermione herself strolled out onto the dance floor with a partner, oblivious to the fact that Ron was watching her the entire time, quite upset, and no doubt jealous that she would dance with another. After the dance had ended, her partner quickly disappeared, being distracted by one or more of the bridesmaids it would seem, leaving Hermione alone and somewhat embarrassed on the dance floor.

As she scanned the room for where Ron was seated (and she, Ron, and Harry, had been kept apart for much of the planning and festivities), Ron quickly turned his back to her so she wouldn’t see him watching her. He then rose to his feet, glanced coolly over his shoulder back at her, and made his way from the tent.

Hermione was further embarrassed by this, knowing as she must have that Ron had seen her dancing with another. She bowed her head, then turned on a dime, her bright red dress swirling around her, and walked away. Where did she go you wonder? I’m afraid that will remain a secret for now.

As the dancing reaches its peak, we see first Lupin and then Harry make appearances into the wedding tent, though both are largely ignored by the guests at large. This is the point when the madness begins. A strange glowing ball of light (Patronus) appears, and from it, a dire warning in a deathly voice “The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”

WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?!?!

blouise26@gmail.com — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 12:34:47 GMT

AND ANGELS.

That is all.

[God, I love this show til the death of me.]

bsg

blouise26@gmail.com — Tue, 22 Sep 2009 08:02:35 GMT

So I just finished Battlestar Galactica.

WHAT THE HELL.

I'm crushed in disappointment.

friends cut

blouise26@gmail.com — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 01:49:17 GMT

So I've done a friends cut. It was mostly because I want a smaller, more maintainable and initmate friends list, where I can actually catch up with those who I call my friends. If I've deleted you by accident, or whatever, just give me a heads up :)

blouise26@gmail.com — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 13:12:43 GMT

HOW GOOD WAS IT?

Discuss! I'll put what I think in a comment :)

blouise26@gmail.com — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 22:03:56 GMT

HARRY POTTER DAYYYYYYYYY!

blouise26@gmail.com — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 10:17:17 GMT

HARRY!POTTER!HOLY!PRETTY!HELL!I!AM!SO!EXCITED!

!!!!!!!!!!!!*97&@*!^@

Fic: Paparazzi (1/1)

blouise26@gmail.com — Sat, 06 Jun 2009 04:56:38 GMT

Keep in mind I literally haven't put pen to paper fic wise in over a year, so I may be a little rusty :) Enjoy.

Title: Paparazzi (1/1)
Pairing: Rupert Grint/Emma Watson
Rating: PG
Summary: I'm your biggest fan, I'll follow you until you love me.

I’m your biggest fan
I’ll follow you until you love me
Papa, Paparazzi
You know that I’ll be
Your Paparazzi
Paparazzi – Lady Gaga

It was getting a hell of a lot more intense than he ever thought it would.

Every graze. Every glance. Every night when their lips would touch, rough and ragged as their breath, he realised he was completely and utterly in this. And completely and utterly fucked.

She laughed it off as just fun. They were just having fun. Just having fun. Fun. Repeating it over and over, waiting for the words to seep into her brain. But they never did. And she was never truly convinced. Not even in the slightest. Because when she saw him, she couldn’t deny the flutter or the tingle or the swell. And she hated that willpower was not on her side.

“I can’t do this.”

He smirked lying sprawled on the bed. She faced away from him, clipping up her bra and pulling her t-shirt back on. They’ve been through this. Over and over again. He couldn’t imagine a time when it didn’t end like this. He voiced his thoughts.

“You say that every time.”

She laughed and it’s the nervous laugh he has caught on to. But for a second, it doesn’t sound like a laugh. It sounds more rough, brutal and entirely not like her.

“I mean it this time. This is breaking me.”

It’s a rare vulnerability that she never lets him see, but she knew that he had to know. He had to know how much this was killing her. The yes, the maybe, the no and everything that mirrored the between.

“You hate me?”

She shook her head, staring at the carpet in the hotel. It was dirty. Not obviously dirty, but she was staring so intently that she could see every stain, every flicker of residue. God, she needed to stop.

“I don’t hate you. I feel the opposite, in a crazy, insane, ridiculous way because nothing can ever be normal. And I can’t be in this limbo anymore. I can...”

She is cut off by his lips on her shoulder. And she hated him for it. She hated him so much that she just … she just let herself fall. Over and over. She … She was fucked.

…
“We’re perfect.”

It’s midnight and the moon is incredibly beautiful. She can’t breathe. Because he was behind her, pressing against her back and everything suddenly went black and silver and she hated fireworks.

Perfect. That word was trivial. A fairytale. Something invented by Disney so not to give children false hope of the future.

“We’re not perfect. We’re anything but. I hate when you do this. Inside your mind how can you ever think that we are perfect?”

The next thing he said took her completely by surprise. And everything went technicolour.

He spun her around to face him.

“Because when I’m with you, it feels perfect. This situation … I don’t know how to get out of it, but I’m not sure I want to either.”

She kissed him harder than she ever had before.

It was like a dream. She fell onto her bed, watching him on top of her and she felt her heart swell. He kissed her, gently, rough, lovingly, and every other emotion or being you could put into a kiss. She undid his belt buckle, sliding his pants down his legs. She trailed her finger up his stomach, feeling goosebumps erupt on her skin.

He looked deep into her eyes. And she felt vulnerable. She felt open. Like she wanted to tell him everything she has ever felt, ever wanted and ever could be. And he wanted that as well.

“I love you.”

It sounded perfect.

But it was dark.

The blanket barely covered her naked skin as she felt beads of sweat dwell across her chest. She breathed deeply, almost wanting to cry. To deny. Everything lead up to this.

She turned her head slightly as saw him, asleep. It was the same. It never changed. And she wasn’t okay with that. Because she couldn’t deny it any more than her subconscious could let her.

She wished she could sleep.

…

... brain dead.

blouise26@gmail.com — Sat, 06 Jun 2009 03:53:55 GMT

So this? This makes me want to write RPF. Now. So I will. Typical, that the first thing I've written in over a year is DELUSIONAL :)

Speaking of which. You all should know this by now. This is the time of year I get a little crazy due to a little small movie which is coming out in a month. Hopefully they give me some wonderful pictures like this one :)

blouise26@gmail.com — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 06:37:44 GMT

Oh dear.

And a little bit funny. There's like this mad debate going on over at Mugglenet regarding the ethics behind taking/creating drugs. Whatever. He's a fool for keeping four grand worth of pot in his car, so he deserved to be caught.

Interesting to see what they're going to do with him with Harry Potter.

blouise26@gmail.com — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 03:45:56 GMT

hmadeink

My new community. It contains all my hand-made cards and invitations and will contain my writing as well :) So check it out, and comment on what you think.

How is everyone?

blouise26@gmail.com — Sat, 14 Mar 2009 07:22:53 GMT

So good news. I'm starting to write again. It's not fanfic because, honestly, I can't really muster the courage to write it anymore. New ideas are fare and far between. No, I'm writing a script. A television script. It's kind of Skins meets Gossip Girl - and entirely Australian.

What I'm after is Music. Every kind of music. The songs you love to listen to, the rare songs that inspire you to write. All those little one offs. It would be greatly appreciated - the more the better!

----- Oh. I have a twitter. Tweet.

blouise26@gmail.com — Mon, 15 Sep 2008 01:17:42 GMT

Does anyone know where I can get Goosebumps without a torrent?

blouise26@gmail.com — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 02:48:59 GMT

Does anyone have Just Dance by Lady Gaga? x

yayyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

blouise26@gmail.com — Fri, 04 Jul 2008 07:26:36 GMT

aw, you guys.

finally.

eta: luna is ♥

eta2: lavender, hand over that atrocious headband asap.

eta3: QUIDDITCH *flails* hehe.

eta4: tom felton, wtf did you do to your hair?

eta5:

awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

blouise26@gmail.com — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 09:00:32 GMT

Does anyone have Black and Gold by Sam Sparro?

blouise26@gmail.com — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 10:02:05 GMT

Fic anyone?

christtttt

blouise26@gmail.com — Wed, 21 May 2008 08:48:02 GMT

What the fuck happened?

In detail, if you will.

blouise26@gmail.com — Fri, 16 May 2008 06:48:44 GMT

Favour?

Does anyone have on their computers:

Bones Season #3
Juno
Enchanted

? If you do, would you be willing to burn them for me? I'll reimburse you with the DVD and such :)) I haven't had much time to sit down and watch TV lately, other than Sunday nights, so it would be much appreciated.

#1

blouise26@gmail.com — Fri, 09 May 2008 10:36:03 GMT

Is it just me, or is there an increasingly large lack of fic around lately? I don't know what it is, but it seems that it's lost it's mojo. I know I haven't been able to come up with anything in months. Maybe it's because I've written all I can write about the characters, or the plot's? House particularly, I can't come up with anything personally original; to the fandom or to myself. Is anyone else feeling this, or is it just me.

Because I miss it. I miss being able to sit at my computer and pop out a worthy fic in 3 hours. But now, nothing. Weird, huh.

And that's my random thought for the day. Good day to you.

Are you an idiot?
No sir, I'm a dreamer.

TWILIGHT TRAILER!

blouise26@gmail.com — Tue, 06 May 2008 09:40:17 GMT

you win this round, cedric.

crap, he's hot. i didn't want him to be. shiiiiiit.

haha.

discuss!

hp rpf: some kind of fairytale

blouise26@gmail.com — Wed, 13 Feb 2008 06:17:50 GMT

Title: Some kind of fairytale [1/?]
Pairing: Rupert Grint/Emma Watson [RPF]
Rating: M
For: andsheloves. Because one day, they are going to admit it ♥
Summary: ‘i know you know.’ ‘ yeah, well i know something you don’t.’
Note: Sequel to the many Rupert/Emma fics that I’ve written. It’s just a continuation, pretty much. Feedback, please. Comments are love, and I’ve been out of the game for a few months, so I may be a bit rusty.

-

She sneaks up behind Dan and curls her fingers around his arm.

“I know you know.”

He smirks, pretending to concentrate on the script in front of him. His brow furrows, and she knows that that is a dead giveaway that he has her full attention.

“Yeah, well I know something you don’t.”

He eyebrows raise, and she drags a chair over and sits next to him. “A good something or a bad something?”

“It could be interpreted in two different ways.”

She groans. “Can you stop with the cryptic? You know about the thing that we don’t want anyone else to know. What else?”

The script is overturned and he stares at her, a smile on his face. “If I were you, I’d avoid Jesse.”

-

“This isn’t some kind of fairytale, you know?” She is finding everything a little bit more difficult because at that moment his lips are on her neck and breathing and thinking aren’t necessarily as important as what comes next.

He smirks into the curve of her neck. “Only you would think that.”

She sighs, her arms curling around her neck as she leans deeper into the wall behind her, because he’s pressing her against it and in no way is she complaining. But there is a niggling feeling in the back of her mind and she knows that she needs to say something, because it wasn’t going to go away.

“I spoke to Dan,” she began.

“Hmm,” he responded, curling his arm around her waist.

“He told me to avoid Jesse. Wouldn’t happen to know why, would you?”

He froze, breathing into her shoulder. Finally he looked up and stared at her, his arms still around her waist. “What did he tell you?”

“What should he have told me?” She quipped back.

He sighed. “She … asked me … out.”

She stared at him enquiringly.

“And I told her I was seeing someone.”

Again, staring.

“And she knows it’s you.”

She broke free, moving over the other side of the trailer and sitting on his bed, her head in her hands. Because this was not how she intended everything to work. And for once, she enjoyed the secrecy, and the feeling that it was just them, without anyone else.

“It’s not that bad, Em…” He sat next to her, brushing his fingers over her jeans.

She looked up at him. “And what if it gets out?”

He leaned close to her, pulling her to him. “Then we deal.”

She barely had time to respond before he closed the gap between them, kissing her hard and making her forget about everything.

Sometimes, she really hates him for it.

-

“WE DIDN’T DO –“

She winces from behind the camera, rolling her eyes at the irony of the situation and how for some ridiculous reason art seemed to be imitating life. Cut was called and she bit her lip and looked away as Bonnie sat down next to her.

“Dear God that girl can death stare…”

She smiled. “Thanks, Bon.”

Bonnie bit her fingernails staring at her, before she spoke. “So, I spoke to Dan…”

“Shut up, Bonnie.”

Bonnie laughed.

-

friends cut.

blouise26@gmail.com — Wed, 13 Feb 2008 01:54:59 GMT

I did quite a hefty friends cut. It really just came down to 3 things:

1. Whether or not I actually knew your name.
2. Whether or not you commented on my journal.
3. Whether or not I had actually commented you in 6 months.

If you feel for whatever reason I have wrongly cut you, please tell me. I just based it on the above three.

That said, I'm off to write hp fic.

pushing daisies fic - pieces of memories [1/1]

blouise26@gmail.com — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 08:39:49 GMT

Title: Pieces Of Memories [1/1]
Fandom: Pushing Daisies
Pairing: Ned/Chuck
Rating: G
Spoilers: Corpsicle
Summary: A memory haunts her.

--

A memory haunts her.

“What do you want to be when you’re grown up?” Chuck’s question is simple, and he stares at her in a way that only a nine year old could.

“Not me,” he replies, picking the flowers of the yellow daisies in her garden. His head gear tilts a little and she stares at him in anticipation.

“You can’t not be you. I want to be a bee keeper. Bee’s are so pretty, Ned,” Chuck says, as she fingers her own daisy.

Ned shrugs and she stares out into her garden, watching their make believe town and thinking of the future in a way only a eight year old could. She imagines her dad in the house next door, with colour and a picket fence, like she saw in the movies. She imagines everything to be perfect; her life, her bees and her garden. And she imagines Ned. Because in her mind, Ned would always be there.

“You’ll always be here, right? With me?” She asks in a way that causes a blush to creep up on her cheeks, so she stares down at the grass in front of her.

Ned doesn’t reply immediately, so she waits. One, two, three daisies lose their yellow colouring, sprinkling on the green grass in front of them. As she waits, she hums, buzzing in a way that always comforted her.

“I’ll be with you,” he says softly, pushing up his head gear.

A grin breaks out on her face.

An hour later, her dad dies.

-

“You what?”

He can see her face breaking every second since he told her. And he immediately wished he hadn’t blurted out the fact that he had indeed killed her father. Everything froze, but she sat up in her bed, staring at the wall across from them.

“I didn’t –“

He stopped when realisation hit her features.

“Your mum. She died. You brought her back. And you killed my dad. Random proximity…” She wasn’t speaking directly to him, but he still felt the punch in his stomach every word she spoke, uttering the truth and exactly what he had been harboring for 20 years.

In a split second, she pulled herself out of her bed and over to the door. He jumped up in an equal split second and rushed into his living room to follow her. A jacket already on, and shoes in her had, her hand reached for the doorknob.

“I didn’t –“

“You didn’t what? Mean to kill him? You knew. You knew.” The last ‘knew’ hit him like thunder.

“I didn’t know. Not right then.” He made an effort to keep his voice straight.

“Don’t go.” His voice was broken. But he realised that so was she.

He saw her move her face, her eyes closed, and everything made it seem that much worse. Looking at her hurt and he knew that she was feeling the same way, but he couldn’t bear to see her go. Leave him.

“I can’t …” her voice broke and he wished that he could take everything back. He wished things were different; that he was just a boy and she was just a girl and for one moment things could be normal. Normality would be nice.

He’s left in a room that had turned 20 degrees cooler in a matter of seconds; the snow hits the windows and reminded him of the fact that it was the middle of winter and she had just left. Digby stared at him and he turned, grabbing his coat and pulled open the door.

His last thought was of her as he hit the cold air.

-

Days before she remembers a conversation they had.

He laughs, ploughing his toy into the play-doh house, carefree and innocent, as a child should be. She asks him a question. A simple question.
“What do you want to be when you grow up, Ned?”

He grins, picking up the mushed house and staring at it.

“I want to be a pie-maker. Like mum.”

“With me?”

“With you.”

The air is cold. But she can’t will herself to go back. Not yet, anyway.

--

pushing daisies ficlet - i'll hold onto this moment

blouise26@gmail.com — Tue, 01 Jan 2008 07:48:31 GMT

i’ll hold onto this moment
pushing daisies. ned/chuck. g.
i wait here forever just to see your smile.
sometimes, it makes up for it.

--

The buzzing comforted her in a way many things couldn’t.

She remembered when she was … alive seemed like such a wrong word – and she dreamed of escaping and becoming the person she longed to be. It was during these times that she allowed her mind to wander, imagining scenarios in which the unimaginable happened.

She sometimes wondered what he looked like now. Where was he? Was he happy? Would he even remember her? It seemed silly, but she remembered lingering on it.

The buzzing softened the aching feeling in her chest as she sat on the snow covered roof, staring out into infinity and the world that had seemed to change quite a bit within a few months.

She was the girl of innocence; brought to life again and again by simple moments in life, eventually culminating in the end. Or the beginning. Because for her, endings were beginnings. She was the girl of dreams. Her childhood was full of make believe and wishes that couldn’t come true.

What she didn’t realise was that wishes were actually what dreams were made of. In her reality, make believe was more possible than she knew.

Because this feeling was more than she had ever felt in her life. It only took dying for her to realise it.

-

He imagined a time when he was alone, and feeling nothing but the thought of what it would feel like to see her again. The unimaginable. Because in reality, in his dreams, he never imagined he would feel the way he felt now.

He was the boy of memories; over and over realising that he wasn’t like everybody else. As a child, he never knew if that was a good thing or a bad thing. In fact, there was only one moment in his life where he thought that his gift was a good thing. Only one. He dreamed, and watched, observing more than participating. Until he saw her again.

Only one.

For most, the concept of touch was irrelevant. Natural, everyday things were taken for granted. Sometimes, a simple touch could change the world. The world around two people. He dreams of holding her hand, feeling her soft skin and breathing in deeply, not having to worry about death or a mistake. She dreams of kissing him, holding him close and remembering everything she had dreamed about, this moment and how long she had thought about it.

Everything seemed strangely simple when they were together. Despite the obstacles and the looming danger, there was a certain amount of simplicity that lingered between them.

A smile lit up on her face, her cheeks flushed from the coldness.

Her senses to him had increased ten fold. Sometimes it felt like that made up for it.

-