Fanfiction: Once Upon a Freakin' Time
Ceiling Update: Well, it's not leaking anymore. I actually have no idea what happened because no one tells me anything, but at least there's not water all over my bathroom floor anymore. I cleaned up my bathroom today (I took care of the water yesterday, 'cause, duh, not going to let it sit), so I feel I did something useful...which would be the only useful thing I did today, as I did not write my speech, nor did I start article critiques. Whoops.
Seeing as it took until 3:00 a.m. for anyone to tell me that there was nothing more I could do, and I might as well go to bed, here's a fanfic I wrote. It kind of reminds me of Once Upon a Freakin' Time fics I wrote a while back. You know, stupid and incoherent.
Oh, wait. They're still that.
But if this one seems more so, it's because it was written in the early hours of the morning, and I was not at my best:
Lord Voldemort Loses It. Totally. Like, More Than Usual.
There was silence from the room.
Not that a silent room would usually be an odd thing, but this room currently contained Lord Voldemort, the self-proclaimed evilest man who ever eviled EVER, and his arch-nemesis, a teenaged wizard named Harry Potter.
They had been in there eight hours, and it was silent. Naturally, the Death Eaters were a little unnerved. They had brought the struggling boy to their Dark Lord those eight hours ago, and their Master had promptly told them to shut up, go away, and do something useful for a change.
But the Death Eaters had never done anything useful before, so they hung around outside the room where Lord Voldemort had taken Harry Potter, hoping to catch snatches of screams and curses, and whatever other torture related things would go on.
But there was only silence. “This sucks,” said Lucius, succinct as always.
Just then, Snape arrived, thus changing the entire dynamic of this fic. “What are you all just moping about for?” he asked. “Don’t any of you have families or business or lives or whatnot?”
“Our Lord has finally captured The-Brat-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-In-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s-Presence,” said Nott.
Snape silently cursed at this, as he was currently working for the Order of the Phoenix, and was supposed to be preventing situations like this. “Well, that’s good, right?” he asked, trying to maintain his cover.
“Nothing’s happening!” whined Lucius. “They’ve been in there for eight hours!”
Maybe Voldemort fell in, thought Snape. “Perhaps we should inquire as to our Dark Lord’s state?” he asked aloud. “I’ll knock, if you like.”
Lucius squealed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Snape,” he said. “He may make us play ‘The Quiet Game’ again!”
Snape ignored Lucius, and rapped lightly on the big oak door. “I’m busy!” came a sharp cry from the other side.
“Master?” asked Snape. “Is everything all right?”
“Fine!” called Voldemort from the other side. “Everything’s just peachy. Now, go away.”
“We’re all a little concerned…” continued Snape.
“Oh, for heaven’s…just open the door, Snape. Yelling is straining my voice.”
“Well,” said Snape, trying the door, “it’s locked.”
“What are you, a Durmstrang first year? Use a spell, Snape.”
Snape muttered nasty things about his boss under his breath as he spelled open the door. There, in the room, was Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter…sitting a big table with an illustrated piece of cardboard covered in colorful pieces of plastic between them. Potter was glumly slumped in his seat, fiddling with a pair of dice.
“My Lord,” started Snape cautiously, “may I ask what you are doing with Potter?”
“We’re using Risk to figure out who will rule the world,” explained Voldemort.
Harry attempted to cut in, “I don’t want to rule the world.”
“If you win,” said Voldemort, turning to the boy, “you’ll rule the world, and you’ll like it!
“But…”
“Trust me. If you don’t know how to rule, then I’ll lend you some books. It’s really not that deep.”
“But…”
“Hush! I’m talking to Snape now,” Voldemort turned back to Snape. “I figured that since Risk was the game of strategy wherein you conquer the world, it would be a good symbol for our current situation.”
“Oh,” said Snape, for it seemed appropriate, “and how is that going?”
“Well, we’ve been going back and forth for the past…how long has it been? Eight hours? Goodness. Anyway, Harry…I mean, Potter…is winning at the moment. He’s actually quite good at this dominating the world thing. I feel that, even if I lose, the subjugation of all wizardkind will be in good hands…”
“Oh, heaven help me,” whispered Harry.
“…but things could turn around at any time. If I get Eastern Europe, it’ll be easier to conquer Russia, which would put the board in my favor.”
“Kill me,” Harry implored the Death Eaters. “Please.”
“Hush, boy! Now, if you all don’t mind, I have a world to conquer. Harry, I’m attacking Eastern Europe with two battalions. Here’s the die to defend yourself.”
Snape and the Death Eaters backed slow from the room and shut the door tightly. “Oooookay,” said Snape. “I think he’s finally lost it.”
Seeing as it took until 3:00 a.m. for anyone to tell me that there was nothing more I could do, and I might as well go to bed, here's a fanfic I wrote. It kind of reminds me of Once Upon a Freakin' Time fics I wrote a while back. You know, stupid and incoherent.
Oh, wait. They're still that.
But if this one seems more so, it's because it was written in the early hours of the morning, and I was not at my best:
Lord Voldemort Loses It. Totally. Like, More Than Usual.
There was silence from the room.
Not that a silent room would usually be an odd thing, but this room currently contained Lord Voldemort, the self-proclaimed evilest man who ever eviled EVER, and his arch-nemesis, a teenaged wizard named Harry Potter.
They had been in there eight hours, and it was silent. Naturally, the Death Eaters were a little unnerved. They had brought the struggling boy to their Dark Lord those eight hours ago, and their Master had promptly told them to shut up, go away, and do something useful for a change.
But the Death Eaters had never done anything useful before, so they hung around outside the room where Lord Voldemort had taken Harry Potter, hoping to catch snatches of screams and curses, and whatever other torture related things would go on.
But there was only silence. “This sucks,” said Lucius, succinct as always.
Just then, Snape arrived, thus changing the entire dynamic of this fic. “What are you all just moping about for?” he asked. “Don’t any of you have families or business or lives or whatnot?”
“Our Lord has finally captured The-Brat-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-In-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s-Presence,” said Nott.
Snape silently cursed at this, as he was currently working for the Order of the Phoenix, and was supposed to be preventing situations like this. “Well, that’s good, right?” he asked, trying to maintain his cover.
“Nothing’s happening!” whined Lucius. “They’ve been in there for eight hours!”
Maybe Voldemort fell in, thought Snape. “Perhaps we should inquire as to our Dark Lord’s state?” he asked aloud. “I’ll knock, if you like.”
Lucius squealed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Snape,” he said. “He may make us play ‘The Quiet Game’ again!”
Snape ignored Lucius, and rapped lightly on the big oak door. “I’m busy!” came a sharp cry from the other side.
“Master?” asked Snape. “Is everything all right?”
“Fine!” called Voldemort from the other side. “Everything’s just peachy. Now, go away.”
“We’re all a little concerned…” continued Snape.
“Oh, for heaven’s…just open the door, Snape. Yelling is straining my voice.”
“Well,” said Snape, trying the door, “it’s locked.”
“What are you, a Durmstrang first year? Use a spell, Snape.”
Snape muttered nasty things about his boss under his breath as he spelled open the door. There, in the room, was Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter…sitting a big table with an illustrated piece of cardboard covered in colorful pieces of plastic between them. Potter was glumly slumped in his seat, fiddling with a pair of dice.
“My Lord,” started Snape cautiously, “may I ask what you are doing with Potter?”
“We’re using Risk to figure out who will rule the world,” explained Voldemort.
Harry attempted to cut in, “I don’t want to rule the world.”
“If you win,” said Voldemort, turning to the boy, “you’ll rule the world, and you’ll like it!
“But…”
“Trust me. If you don’t know how to rule, then I’ll lend you some books. It’s really not that deep.”
“But…”
“Hush! I’m talking to Snape now,” Voldemort turned back to Snape. “I figured that since Risk was the game of strategy wherein you conquer the world, it would be a good symbol for our current situation.”
“Oh,” said Snape, for it seemed appropriate, “and how is that going?”
“Well, we’ve been going back and forth for the past…how long has it been? Eight hours? Goodness. Anyway, Harry…I mean, Potter…is winning at the moment. He’s actually quite good at this dominating the world thing. I feel that, even if I lose, the subjugation of all wizardkind will be in good hands…”
“Oh, heaven help me,” whispered Harry.
“…but things could turn around at any time. If I get Eastern Europe, it’ll be easier to conquer Russia, which would put the board in my favor.”
“Kill me,” Harry implored the Death Eaters. “Please.”
“Hush, boy! Now, if you all don’t mind, I have a world to conquer. Harry, I’m attacking Eastern Europe with two battalions. Here’s the die to defend yourself.”
Snape and the Death Eaters backed slow from the room and shut the door tightly. “Oooookay,” said Snape. “I think he’s finally lost it.”