"'Caution. Hotness at work. May spontaneously combust.' I read Ross' neon shirt with something akin to disgust, brushing back my hair and shooting him a glare. 'Really? Really, Ross? I hope you realize that no one's going to find you attractive when you're picking up trash from the ground with a stick.'" When Ross Alderman literally blows up Jenn's AP Chemistry class, the two of them find themselves stuck with thirty hours of community service. Now if only Jenn can last that long picking up trash with him without combusting from anger, no chemistry humor intended. (current cover by @Razeeta)

Cloitrés, ne pouvant communiquer, ils étaient seuls. La planche craqua et malgré les lois, ils se sont vus.

I hate you beyond words. You didn't only take a part of the person I love the most. But you also took a pinch of my soul.

They call us the Pyros. We are just like Them-in size, in manner, in form. We speak the same language. We walk by the same synchrony of nerve and flesh and bone, and more importantly-intention. One leg out in front of the other. Switching legs, and repeating. We breathe the same way as Them - the involuntary movement of muscle, the rising of our chests, the filling of our lungs. We may require more oxygen than Them, but in the end, oxygen is a luxury indispensable to both kinds. We share the same senses, for the most part. The sense of taste, of smell, of sight. The sense of hearing-listening to the melodious sounds of nature, music, and laughter intertwined with the cacophony of the city during the day, and the wolves that howl at night. We share the sense of touch-of intimacy, of sensation, of emotion. And the sense of betrayal, and the agony that accompanies it. My mother used to say that the Humans had accidentally destroyed their past home, and had nowhere to go. They needed a place to stay, and We had our home to offer. We welcomed them to Ignis, with open arms, and all-too-trusting smiles. I don't believe in accidents. And subsequently, betrayal became the only sense We knew. -- It was only a matter of time before Humans completely destroyed the Earth. With the weapons they amassed, and the pollution that wreaked havoc on the environment- it was in inevitable their home would become uninhabitable. That was the genesis of the Great Migration. Hundreds of millions of Humans were relocated to the distant planet of Ignis, pre-inhabited by the native Ignites, a superhuman species. At first, there was unity. Ignites and Humans lived peacefully among each other, without problems. Then, there was discrimination. And then, there was genocide.

If someone told me that one day, I'd have something in common with Lord Voldemort, I'd probably laugh and ask if it was my horrible taste in fashion, but that's not our mutual similarity... at least I hope not.

A collection of my poems. Some old and some new.

Dilemma (A Romione Fanfic) - Hermione Granger is a transfer student from Siena High and moves to Xavier Academy to start fresh. Here in Xavier, she's definitely living the life. The once unpopular geek from her old school has turned into one of the girls who hang out with "The Cool Kids", aka the jocks of Xavier, something that Hermione had been dreaming of since before. She has been crushing on the gang's leader, Cedric Diggory, for such a long time, but she had a secret admirer outside their gang, someone who was always being picked on by Cedric and his friends. Hermione has to choose between hanging out with the popular guys and having the social life that she has always wanted, or standing up to her own crush to spare her admirer's feelings. As Professor Dumbledore always told her, "We must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy."

Pastabox renversé, pantalon déchiqueté, front tapé, lèvres percées, bêtises et carrosse. Ça résume assez bien ce qu'a vécu Charlie avec Amalia, franche asiatique détestant tout ce qui n'est pas du théâtre. Charlie est le gars louche qui vit sa vie dans un carrosse et un Super U. Amalia est une jeune fille bizarre qui n'arrête pas d'espérer et qui porte des t-shirts troués. Et quand les deux se rencontrent dans le carrosse du dépôt du lycée, deux mondes opposés se rencontrent, se mélangent et forment une histoire à raconter. © larmesmauves - 2015