Nahh, jk.
Sunt fată.
Lol.
LMFAOINGSHTMBDAMSRA.
Nu, nu.
Deci.
Sunt răcită.
Infencţie în gât? Idk.
Doctor.
Err.
Urăsc doctorii.
Înafară de acei Doctori.
Lorzi ai Timpului.
În acel caz, nu.
În acel caz, ador doctorii.
TENTH DOCTOR, WOOT
BE MAD
ATTACK ME
BECAUSE
I
HATE
TWILIGHT
:>
miercuri, octombrie 27
sâmbătă, octombrie 2
K, Harry Potter fan-fic, english.
Harry snapped back to reality, blinking as he saw Kreacher's face inches from his. He grunted, shaking his head slightly, the house-elf jumping away, bowing in front of it's Master. Harry rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, before carefully placing his glasses on, the whole room, a red and gold blur before, being a rather large one, fulfilled with people he didn't recognize at once.
Then he saw Lucius Malfoy's face, Narcissa's next to his, and Draco's -
'Master-' Kreacher started, but Harry suddenly rose from his bed, fingers wrapped tightly around the wood of his wand, which was pointed directly at the Malfoy family, backing up a few steps, glaring at the pure-blooded people. A crack made him jerk his neck quickly so he could see the door, Kingsley, Ron and Hermione slithering in, his friends freezing as they saw Harry's threatening posture.
'Oi, Harry, don't need to heat up like that!' Ron said, blinking.
'Oh.. well- er- What are you doing here?' Harry asked, shoving the wand back into his pyjamas' pocket.
Draco looked a bit startled, but he grinned, a thing that wasn't expected from the Slytherin. Harry crept forward a few steps, suddenly stopping, sensing the danger ... He saw Voldemort entering the room quicker than everyone else and he stared at the snake-like face, at the Elder Wand lifted to the level of his chest, at the green curse that flew to him-
His scar was burning, he was shook by an earthquake, or only by Ron, who was trying to wake him up by screaming. Harry hurled in his bed and put his glasses on, staring up at his friend, who was covered in sweat and breathing heavily. Harry let out a surprised cry as the room's windows shattered into pieces and kicked away from the bed, discovering he slept with his cloak on. Ron approached, slowly, the windows and looked out of Sirius's room, retreating to his best friend, who saw horror etched onto his figure-
'Ron, what's wrong, what happened?' Harry asked in a hurry, being dragged by the one questioned out of the gold and red covered room. 'Tell me, why are you- what happened- wha--'
He stopped, gasping: The kitchen was covered in pieces of glass and several Aurors and people from the Order of the Phoenix nodded thankfully to Ron, who let go of Harry's cloak.
Then, everything in the room shattered into pieces, as the known ones to him stood up ... Death Eaters busted in, followed by the screams of Sirius's mother's portrait-
'Wha-'
Harry didn't manage to ask what was going, but clutched Ron's robes and dragged him backwards, then started throwing Stunning curses everywhere, not knowing if he hit enemies or friends. He saw, for a few seconds, Rookwood's face beneath the black cloak and swished his wand, the Stupefy spell hitting the Death Eater in his face.
'Harry, I was going to tell you- Kreacher betrayed us-' Ron yelled loudly, making Harry to stare at him.
'WHAT?' he shouted back, but was hit by a body-binding hex and he fell, losing conscience.
---
Okay, e un fel de idee stupidă de a mea, dar comentaţi, vă rog. ._. Tot vreau să mai fac poveşti din acestea, pe engleză... E interesant.
Harry snapped back to reality, blinking as he saw Kreacher's face inches from his. He grunted, shaking his head slightly, the house-elf jumping away, bowing in front of it's Master. Harry rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, before carefully placing his glasses on, the whole room, a red and gold blur before, being a rather large one, fulfilled with people he didn't recognize at once.
Then he saw Lucius Malfoy's face, Narcissa's next to his, and Draco's -
'Master-' Kreacher started, but Harry suddenly rose from his bed, fingers wrapped tightly around the wood of his wand, which was pointed directly at the Malfoy family, backing up a few steps, glaring at the pure-blooded people. A crack made him jerk his neck quickly so he could see the door, Kingsley, Ron and Hermione slithering in, his friends freezing as they saw Harry's threatening posture.
'Oi, Harry, don't need to heat up like that!' Ron said, blinking.
'Oh.. well- er- What are you doing here?' Harry asked, shoving the wand back into his pyjamas' pocket.
Draco looked a bit startled, but he grinned, a thing that wasn't expected from the Slytherin. Harry crept forward a few steps, suddenly stopping, sensing the danger ... He saw Voldemort entering the room quicker than everyone else and he stared at the snake-like face, at the Elder Wand lifted to the level of his chest, at the green curse that flew to him-
His scar was burning, he was shook by an earthquake, or only by Ron, who was trying to wake him up by screaming. Harry hurled in his bed and put his glasses on, staring up at his friend, who was covered in sweat and breathing heavily. Harry let out a surprised cry as the room's windows shattered into pieces and kicked away from the bed, discovering he slept with his cloak on. Ron approached, slowly, the windows and looked out of Sirius's room, retreating to his best friend, who saw horror etched onto his figure-
'Ron, what's wrong, what happened?' Harry asked in a hurry, being dragged by the one questioned out of the gold and red covered room. 'Tell me, why are you- what happened- wha--'
He stopped, gasping: The kitchen was covered in pieces of glass and several Aurors and people from the Order of the Phoenix nodded thankfully to Ron, who let go of Harry's cloak.
Then, everything in the room shattered into pieces, as the known ones to him stood up ... Death Eaters busted in, followed by the screams of Sirius's mother's portrait-
'Wha-'
Harry didn't manage to ask what was going, but clutched Ron's robes and dragged him backwards, then started throwing Stunning curses everywhere, not knowing if he hit enemies or friends. He saw, for a few seconds, Rookwood's face beneath the black cloak and swished his wand, the Stupefy spell hitting the Death Eater in his face.
'Harry, I was going to tell you- Kreacher betrayed us-' Ron yelled loudly, making Harry to stare at him.
'WHAT?' he shouted back, but was hit by a body-binding hex and he fell, losing conscience.
---
Okay, e un fel de idee stupidă de a mea, dar comentaţi, vă rog. ._. Tot vreau să mai fac poveşti din acestea, pe engleză... E interesant.
All was well.
Am cumpărat Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows cu un milion şi cinci lei de la o librărie, pe engleză bineînţeles, şi am terminat de citit... N-am plâns niciodată la o carte, dar recunosc că am avut lacrimi în ochi când a murit Dobby, Fred, dar n-am putut să nu plâng calumea când a murit Harry.
Bine, bă, poţi să spui că 'vine înapoi LOL' sau alte chestii, but, frate, stai puţin - dacă el, Harry, vroia să meargă mai departe? Dacă nu vroia să mai lupte? Dacă se sătura de atâtea răni sufleteşti şi trupeşti şi mergea cu profesorul Dumbledore în Moarte? Ce se întâmpla? Îţi spun eu ce se întâmpla, acum toţi din România ar fi fost devastaţi din cauza Dementorilor şi a Devoratorilor Morţii, care ar fi putut să omoare toţi Încuiaţii din Europa, sau chiar din lume!
Bine, nu mă crede, dar nu o să fie vina mea când o să întâlneşti un Devorator al Morţii, unul dintre puţinii rămaşi, şi ai să mori, după tortură şi multe răni. Atunci să mai zici că nu crezi că ceea ce Harry a trebuit să face n-a fost greu...
Bine, bă, poţi să spui că 'vine înapoi LOL' sau alte chestii, but, frate, stai puţin - dacă el, Harry, vroia să meargă mai departe? Dacă nu vroia să mai lupte? Dacă se sătura de atâtea răni sufleteşti şi trupeşti şi mergea cu profesorul Dumbledore în Moarte? Ce se întâmpla? Îţi spun eu ce se întâmpla, acum toţi din România ar fi fost devastaţi din cauza Dementorilor şi a Devoratorilor Morţii, care ar fi putut să omoare toţi Încuiaţii din Europa, sau chiar din lume!
Bine, nu mă crede, dar nu o să fie vina mea când o să întâlneşti un Devorator al Morţii, unul dintre puţinii rămaşi, şi ai să mori, după tortură şi multe răni. Atunci să mai zici că nu crezi că ceea ce Harry a trebuit să face n-a fost greu...
miercuri, martie 31
joi, martie 25
Vrei să pleci da' nu mă nu mă iei..
DOAMNE. DOAMNE. DOAMNE.
Azi.. am dat de cel mai bun specimen din lume la cocălărit. Una', diana.. dieluţa sau cum o fi chemând-o. O iubesc pe fata aia, pe prostia ei. E aşa de genială.. mai bine s-ar spânzura. Conversaţia noastră a font cam aşa:
Eu: cine eşti, bă?
Ea: o fată
Eu: bien că nu eşti două fete
şi a plecat ş-aia, ducă-se-n pustiu să se ducă ş-azi, şi mâine. Nu ştiu ce să mai fac.. offff, doamne, viaţaa meaaa. ce manea mai trag eu daaa. Şalalalla ş.a.m.d.
De asemenea, am o certitudine că acea fată va avea un viitor strălucit ca perie de toaletă. Nu ştiu de ce. Răspunsul ei avea un gust.. picant.. mă enerva dar mă şi făcea să râd.. am o idee. O să-i sugerez să se facă perie de toaletă. Da, asta o să fac. O să-i scriu şi biografia: EU, PERIA DE TOALETĂ. Poate că şi aragaz şi tămâie sau faţă de masă.. sau frigider, că e mai ieftin şi avem abonament. Eu mă fac un coş de gunoi. Şi aşa sunt prea multe gunoaie şi prea puţine coşuri.. coşurile de gunoi au drepturi speciale, nu ca noi.. noi suntem gunoaie. Avem nevoie de case.. Iată şi o poezie.
Eu, un coş de gunoi
Priveam cum oamenii se plimbă
Cu etichete de piţigoi
Şi cu degetele la tâmplă.
Suspinam, fericită
Dar nu eram ferită
De nenorocitul soare
Ce stătea să se prelingă.
ş.a.m.d.
-lou
P.S. DINCOLO ERA MAI 'EFTIN
Băga-mi-aş laba-n baba..
Pe bune.. acu' sunt nervoasă. Ce mama dracului?!
Un nebun cu toporu' a sărit azi pe mine. LA PROPRIU.
(notă - topor+nicovală = tricou cu o cravată peste.. OCHII MEI DAJDKLAJD.)
M-am îmbolnăvit de proşti.. de proaste.. de şcoală.. mai ales de proşti şi de proaste. Cât de PROST poţi să fii ca să mergi pe stradă ca o fandosită nebună şi tâmpită? Mă jur că sar de pe geam, CE DRACU'? Apropo...
Băieţii din clasa noastră (Rareşrăzvancătălinemaemilianect.) sunt într-un campionat de fotbal. Dacă o să câştige, mă bag in buzunar şi trăiesc acolo pe scame şi adrese scrise pe plicuri elementare dintr-un sat care e într-un ghiozdan..
Mă simt ca o cizmă. Încălţată de prea multe ori şi descălţată.. şi încălţată iar.. nu mi-e somn. Vreau să fiu o cizmă. Nu mai vreau la şcoală. TRĂIASCĂ POLITICA CIZMELOR! Totuşi.. mi-e somn. Pic de somn. Cu capu-n gură. Tre' să scriu la roman, să fac harta pe planşă A2, să mă concentrez pe desenat.. pe învăţat şi teme.. OOF, tare greu e să fii elvev, băga-mi-aş laba-n baba!
Totuşi..
E mai bine decât să lucrezi.
-lou
Abonați-vă la:
Postări (Atom)