0447: The Dating Game - Hermione Granger
My God, but it was raining earlier. I now know what they mean when they say 'sheets of rain'. Awesome.
Amusing, also - Warren and his buddies are camping this weekend.
TITLE: The Dating Game
PERPETRATOR: WitchBitch (well, at least we know what house her Sue will be in)
SUE-O-METER:
(toxic)
FULL NAME: Hermione Granger
SPECIES: Human/Witch
HAIR: 'I used a sever charm to give myself a new, spiky haircut, and then I turned it a really offensive shade of purple.'
EYES: not described
MARKINGS: 'I conjured up an awesome bolt and drove it through my eyebrow'
POSESSIONS: do I even need to fill this in?
ORIGIN: Once again, Hermione is being possessed by the spirit of an author who thinks Avril Lavigne qualifies as punk.
CONNECTIONS TO CANON: Ron thinks her new look is so hot it made him throw up. Seriously.
SPECIAL ABILITIES: Being so OOC that even the other characters are getting nauseous.
NOTES: Random POV switches, no paragraph breaks, Hermione-gone-punk, and a summary that proclaims this to be (a) her first fanfic, and (b) 'I tried to avoid it being a Mary-Sue story'. It's not the story's fault... after all that, it was just destined to suck.
Excuse me, now, because I'm going to go make CoS screencaps so I can have an icon that says 'Hermione-Sues Make Ron Throw Up'.
SAMPLE:
“Ron’s a great guy, isn’t he?” Harry made another brave stab at conversation. “Yeah,” I mumbled. I scowled, which I like because it made me look like a moody punk...and hey, if the image fits! “I’d, uh, bet he’d be great to go out with.” Harry was hinting heavily now. I mean, that’s not much to offer to a conversation; he was as limp as a year old salad. I became overly pissed off. “Fine!” I snapped, storming across the owlery floor towards the heavy, wooden door, “Then why the hell don’t you go out with him?!” I yanked the door open, only to find Ron, looking sheepishly confident...if such an expression was possible. He looked like he was about to finally ask me out. “Beat it twerp!” I snapped at him, pushing past him roughly. I felt his sad eyes following me as I stormed towards Gryffindor tower, and I felt some kind of savage triumph. Maybe he had finally got the picture. RON: I’ll never understand girls - or like another one. Hermione took my heart and pulverised it until it had the consistency of vanilla custard. I coached myself all day. Just do it, Ron, just do it, the little voice in my head told me. I wanted to ask her out at lunch but instead I stuck my head down a toilet - her punk - rock persona was so gorgeous that it made the butterflies in my stomach turn into my breakfast and stream upwards. Ick. Then I tried again in Care of Magical Creatures but I looked away from my firecrab to smile at her and she looked away to avoid the smile and the bloody fucker crab set my sleeve on fire. I tortured it in return for ten minutes by pouring bucket after bucket of water over its head. After that, Hermione avoided me even more. I tried again at dinner but instead I introduced my insides to that lucky toilet again. I’d vowed to myself I’d do it tonight after the owlery visit but just as I was going to ask her she blew up at me. Harry, the traitor, somehow set her off at me. Oh god, I only just thought - maybe he likes her too! If that happens I have absolutely nada chance, what with him being famous, good - looking and all that. None of the other girls held a candle to Hermione and now I’m depressed - I have no chance.
Amusing, also - Warren and his buddies are camping this weekend.
TITLE: The Dating Game
PERPETRATOR: WitchBitch (well, at least we know what house her Sue will be in)
SUE-O-METER:
(toxic)
FULL NAME: Hermione Granger
SPECIES: Human/Witch
HAIR: 'I used a sever charm to give myself a new, spiky haircut, and then I turned it a really offensive shade of purple.'
EYES: not described
MARKINGS: 'I conjured up an awesome bolt and drove it through my eyebrow'
POSESSIONS: do I even need to fill this in?
ORIGIN: Once again, Hermione is being possessed by the spirit of an author who thinks Avril Lavigne qualifies as punk.
CONNECTIONS TO CANON: Ron thinks her new look is so hot it made him throw up. Seriously.
SPECIAL ABILITIES: Being so OOC that even the other characters are getting nauseous.
NOTES: Random POV switches, no paragraph breaks, Hermione-gone-punk, and a summary that proclaims this to be (a) her first fanfic, and (b) 'I tried to avoid it being a Mary-Sue story'. It's not the story's fault... after all that, it was just destined to suck.
Excuse me, now, because I'm going to go make CoS screencaps so I can have an icon that says 'Hermione-Sues Make Ron Throw Up'.
SAMPLE:
“Ron’s a great guy, isn’t he?” Harry made another brave stab at conversation. “Yeah,” I mumbled. I scowled, which I like because it made me look like a moody punk...and hey, if the image fits! “I’d, uh, bet he’d be great to go out with.” Harry was hinting heavily now. I mean, that’s not much to offer to a conversation; he was as limp as a year old salad. I became overly pissed off. “Fine!” I snapped, storming across the owlery floor towards the heavy, wooden door, “Then why the hell don’t you go out with him?!” I yanked the door open, only to find Ron, looking sheepishly confident...if such an expression was possible. He looked like he was about to finally ask me out. “Beat it twerp!” I snapped at him, pushing past him roughly. I felt his sad eyes following me as I stormed towards Gryffindor tower, and I felt some kind of savage triumph. Maybe he had finally got the picture. RON: I’ll never understand girls - or like another one. Hermione took my heart and pulverised it until it had the consistency of vanilla custard. I coached myself all day. Just do it, Ron, just do it, the little voice in my head told me. I wanted to ask her out at lunch but instead I stuck my head down a toilet - her punk - rock persona was so gorgeous that it made the butterflies in my stomach turn into my breakfast and stream upwards. Ick. Then I tried again in Care of Magical Creatures but I looked away from my firecrab to smile at her and she looked away to avoid the smile and the bloody fucker crab set my sleeve on fire. I tortured it in return for ten minutes by pouring bucket after bucket of water over its head. After that, Hermione avoided me even more. I tried again at dinner but instead I introduced my insides to that lucky toilet again. I’d vowed to myself I’d do it tonight after the owlery visit but just as I was going to ask her she blew up at me. Harry, the traitor, somehow set her off at me. Oh god, I only just thought - maybe he likes her too! If that happens I have absolutely nada chance, what with him being famous, good - looking and all that. None of the other girls held a candle to Hermione and now I’m depressed - I have no chance.