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16 June 2007 @ 01:52 pm
Comment fic request-athon  
I received my exam results on Wednesday night. It’s a funny story (actually it’s not, but you’ve gotta sell yourself these days ... I’ll take $34 or seven camels, whichever is higher).

I was watching random TV due to boredom. As I don’t have Sky or cable, random is really random. First there was CSI: Miami, which appears to be an exceedingly yellow place. Everything is yellow: hair, dead people, the sky. The computer screens. Horatio’s teeth. (Kidding. They’re the only thing that’s not yellow.) Then there was an exciting shift in the schedule to ... CSI: NY. I only watch this show because I love the theme tune. My dad says it’s by the Who, but he also said the song in the M&S ad was by the Clearwater Revival, so his word cannot be taken as law.

Following this I watched the news, and was about to go to bed when the most awesome programme in the world came on: Ballroom Babies. It was about kids competing in the kiddie section of the Pan Pacific Ballroom Dancing competitions (or ‘comps,’ as the little twits called them). It was just like Strictly Ballroom only stupid. The fifteen year old girl looked like a prostitute. I’m pretty sure the six year old’s mother was a prostitute. Her dad was definitely an underwear model ... It was the best thing I’ve seen on TV in a long, long time, although really it deserves to be on youtube.

Only after this, at 1 am, did I check my mobile and find that at 8 pm, my friend had told me the results were up.

I waited half an hour for the page to load and finished off In Focus.

And finally, the point: I got four honours and four first class honours. You’ve got to laugh; one of the first class honours was in Person, Culture and Society, aka the most useless subject known to man. Still, I passed, I passed! And I got cake. I had to buy it myself, but cake is cake.

In light of the celebratory nature of this post, I decided to do a request-athon. I’m taking into account the fact that by the time my lj-versary rolls around I’ll already be back in college [insert grimacing emoticon here] and thus my free time will be all tied up again.

Bearing in mind that the requests that catch my imagination are more likely to get written, I thought it would be fun* if the pairings came with:

a) a picture (not of the characters, unless you specifically want that)


b) the name of a song.

Obviously those who want to oblige me by requesting something do not have to follow this formula. It’s just a suggestion.

Super-fandoms: Prince of Tennis, Harry Potter

Sub-fandoms**: Firefly/Serenity, Death Note, Gilmore Girls, House MD, Grey’s Anatomy, Prison Break, Narnia ...

Caveat: no Ron/Draco. Fetch is not going to happen.

* Fun for me, that is. Not you.

** i.e. those in which I am not cognizant with whole canon but could make a stab at fic.
Current Mood: happyhappy
Current Music: Itchycoo Park (Small Faces)
secretsolitairesecretsolitaire on June 16th, 2007 02:00 pm (UTC)
Congrats!! As for a pairing, how about Harry/George, this image.
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on June 18th, 2007 11:40 am (UTC)
HARRY/GEORGE: Oblivious (1/2)
“It looks harmless.”

Harry tugged at his heavy-duty dragonhide gloves. They were itchy. His scalp was sweating under his helmet and his protective suit felt like a sauna. He’d at least been expecting tentacles or creepy flowers or enormous and evil thorns for his trouble. This tree looked like it belonged in Aunt Petunia’s garden. It was neat, for crying out loud.

“Looks,” said George, adjusting the nozzle on his spray-gun, “can be deceiving.”

“They’d better be,” grumbled Harry. “If I had to get out of bed at six am because some little old lady wants her creeping ivy trimmed, heads will roll.”

“I presume you mean mine.” George smirked and Harry looked away. He hated the swoopy feelings he got in his stomach when George smirked. Fortunately George only smirked when he was right and Harry was wrong, which at least meant the tree was going to provide some worthwhile entertainment. “Check the filters, would you?”

“Are you going to let me work the gun this time?” demanded Harry. “I’ve checked the filters the last three call-outs running. I am sick to death of filter duty.”

“Sure.” George handed him the gun and smirked again. This time Harry’s swooping feelings were half due to apprehension. “I’ll just stay back here, where it’s nice and safe.”

“All right then. On the count of three!” Harry tucked the gun under his arm and stroked the trigger. He loved using it: so much more sturdy and, well, masculine than a wand. Harry had never been able to shake the slight feeling that wands were girly. Particularly that sparkle thing they did whenever they were bored or tired.


Harry spread his legs apart, balancing on the balls of his feet.


He peered down the viewfinder to make sure he had the treetrunk directly in his sights.

“Th –”

“Hmm, nice view,” murmured George. Enraged, Harry spun around to find George crouching over the tank and staring at a lady sunbathing with his Lucky Lens Enhancer.

“Would you stay focused?” bawled Harry. George removed the Lens – which looked daft and like a monocle, and Harry was going to tell him so right after they’d killed the tree – and made a puppy face.

“Sorry, Harry. I thought you were doing fine. By all means continue.”

“Gee, thanks.” Harry swivelled around and aimed. “Three!”

The sticky green strands of Potter & Weasley Co.’s patented Grow-No-More splattered dead centre across the tree’s trunk. There was the usual faint sizzling noise. It seemed like one shot would be all it needed.

Without warning the tree opened a mouth in its trunk: a mouth full of large, shiny and above all sharp fangs. Harry’s finger cramped around the trigger as he shot the entire tank into the gaping maw. He could hear George’s voice in the background, shouting encouragement and metre levels, which didn’t interest Harry at all until the tank ran dry and the mouth was still oncoming.

“George, more fuel!” he shouted, yanking his wand out of the emergency pocket of his suit.

“There isn’t any!”

“Oh, shit,” said Harry, very quietly. The tree was being dragged behind the vicious mouth, its branches gouging tracks in the pristine lawn. He sent a fire spell at it, to no avail. He tried another fire spell, a bigger one. Still nothing.

Then he was on the ground, rolling, and being crushed to death by George’s body. Above the roaring in his ears he heard George shout what sounded like a spell for … gingivitis?

Harry spat out grass and tried to get up, but George’s arms were tight around him. They’d lost their helmets in the frenzy, so George’s mouth was right against Harry’s ear as he whispered, “Duck!” and pressed Harry’s head back down.

There was a sudden rush of heat and a repugnant odour of rotten eggs. Then – nothing.

“What did you do?” Harry croaked.

“Gave it severe dental caries.” George sounded far too pleased with himself. “That tree, Harry McPotterson, happens to be a rare Dentalist Terribilus, which suffocates people with its horrible breath and then eats them alive.”

HARRY/GEORGE: Oblivious (2/2) - scoradh on June 18th, 2007 11:41 am (UTC) (Expand)
Re: HARRY/GEORGE: Oblivious (2/2) - secretsolitaire on June 18th, 2007 04:20 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: HARRY/GEORGE: Oblivious (2/2) - scoradh on June 18th, 2007 07:54 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Rosefourth_rose on June 16th, 2007 02:28 pm (UTC)
Congratulations! :)

I'm in a cracky mood today, so how about Harry/Draco/Pansy, "Girls just wanna have fun"? ;)
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on June 18th, 2007 11:44 am (UTC)
Pansy surreptitiously wiped smear marks off her crystal ball. The queue of customers was at least twenty miles long today – probably longer – and Ringo expected her to dispatch them with suitable vim and verve and, of course, profit.

The crystal ball was glowing gently, lit from within by its own magical fire. Pansy wished it would tone it down a bit. She was trying to fix her mascara using her reflection in the crystal ball, which was a joke. It kept showing her images of other people doing their makeup in an effort to be friendly. It was the divination equivalent of an incontinent Labrador.

Pansy gave it up as a bad job when she saw what one girl was doing with her eyelash curler. The customers would have to make do with a glamour and that was that. Of course, they came out of the tent looking pissed as newts – the effect of glamours on Muggles – and Ringo would be upset if he saw them, but what the hell.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Ringo stuck his head through the tent flap. For a man whose painted smile was the size of a banana and who had more red curls than a Weasley family reunion, he managed to look incredibly menacing.

People think the ringmasters control the circus. People are wrong.

“Your public awaits, Madam Zabini,” he drawled. “Also, your husband wishes to pass on to you the information that Marie-Jeanne, the new trapeze artist, is a demon in the sack. With his compliments.”

“Bastard,” growled Pansy. She was going to get him good for that one. Their marriage had been a litany of infidelities ever since Pansy had found him in bed with the best man on their wedding night. Draco hadn’t looked remotely repentant, either. “He knows Marie-Jeanne and I are feuding over that ruby necklace she stole.”

“That she says you stole,” said Ringo, “and from the stable master’s mistress, no less. Regardless. Are you ready for your first customer, or do you need more time to commune with the Other Side?”

“No; the Other Side and I are already well communed, thanks.” Pansy smiled falsely and briefly considered seducing Ringo. It would really get on Blaise’s wick … if she survived it, that is. Never mind. “Send the first fool in.”

Reading people’s futures was the easy part. Pansy’s best subject in school had been Divination. It was being sufficiently hazy and not sounding certain that was difficult. Pansy didn’t want the notoriety of being a genuine psychic. The circus was a cushy number and with so many tattoos around, no one noticed Blaise and Pansy’s matching Dark Marks. She wasn’t about to risk all that for some Muggle, although she did try to drop hints about the worst calamities.

For some reason, the crystal ball kept trying to get her attention all morning. Pansy’s wand was long since broken and the crystal ball was her only relic of wizarding life. It was natural that they should bond, but this was ridiculous.

During her lunch break she fixed it with a hard stare. “All right, out with it. What is it you’re so desperate to show me?”
HARRY/DRACO/PANSY: Balls (2/2) - scoradh on June 18th, 2007 11:45 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - fourth_rose on June 18th, 2007 03:14 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - scoradh on June 18th, 2007 07:57 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: HARRY/DRACO/PANSY: Balls (2/2) - shezan on June 18th, 2007 04:31 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: HARRY/DRACO/PANSY: Balls (2/2) - scoradh on June 18th, 2007 08:00 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: HARRY/DRACO/PANSY: Balls (2/2) - thrnbrooke on June 18th, 2007 06:29 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: HARRY/DRACO/PANSY: Balls (2/2) - scoradh on June 18th, 2007 08:03 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(Deleted comment)
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on June 18th, 2007 11:49 am (UTC)
EDMUND/EUSTACE: Nostalgia (1/2)
As soon as he was fairly well settled back at home, Eustace wrote down all that he could remember about his voyage on the Dawn Treader. The Eustace of a few weeks (or was it hours?) ago would not have mentioned his time as a dragon, or the acts of unpleasantness and stupidity he'd committed. It was a credit to Narnia or Aslan or good, bracing fresh air that, now, he did. Or maybe the point of Narnia was that it uncovered the real person buried beneath the grime of our world.

Eustace, of course, considered none of these things. He only thought that it was right to record everything exactly as it had been, so that hopefully he wouldn’t forget a vast deal of it.

But Time has a funny way of playing tricks with our memories. Eustace put away his notebook under a pile of scientific journals, which had somewhat lost their charm for him after all he’d experienced. When he thought about Narnia, he gradually came to remember only two things: how it felt to fly; and the feel of Edmund’s rough hand in his own, as they waded through the sea of lilies.

It was the summer after Eustace’s adventures with Jill that Edmund came to stay once more at Cambridge. Eustance was shocked by his thinness and paleness. Edmund had been working hard – too hard – all year, but he’d managed to get into Oxford. This vexed Alberta no end, as Harold was a Cambridge alumni and she intended that in the goodness of time Eustace would be one also.

Eustace had privately decided he wanted to be a journalist and already spent several afternoons a week writing for the school paper. He hadn’t felt the need to apprise his mother of this information yet.

Lucy had gone off on a trekking tour of France; Peter was doing research in Toronto. When asked about Susan, Edmund said lightly, “Oh, she’s gadding about, having fun – you know Susan;” but his face hardened. In fact Eustace didn’t know Susan at all. He had a faint image in his mind of sparkling blonde hair and a slash of crimson lipstick from Peter’s wedding, two years before. He didn’t press Edmund for more information, though it went against his nosey grain.

Only when they were in the back bedroom, looking at the picture of the Dawn Treader, did Edmund finally relax. “I’m sorry if I seemed off before,” he apologised. “I’ve been ever so ratty since I was ill, and Aunt Alberta tends to put me on edge.”

“Mother has that effect on people,” said Eustace ruefully, who’d stopped calling his parents by their Christian names after Narnia. A lot of things had changed after Narnia. “Don’t give it a second thought.”

“I do miss it.” Edmund’s eyes were huge in his exhausted face. “Something tells me you’ve been back. You’ve got that glow about you.”

“I suppose you want to hear every last detail.” Eustace grinned, pretending reluctance. “Well, you’ll never guess …”

It was good to get it all out in the open with someone who understood. Jill had been a pal, in the end, but she hadn’t known Caspian before and Edmund had. The grief in Edmund’s eyes when he heard of Caspian’s death matched Eustace’s own, bringing back the bereavement in full force.

“I – didn’t know him that well, or like him most of the time I knew him,” Eustace’s voice was halting, “but it was a blow.”

“I can imagine.” Edmund marshalled his face, but put out a hand to briefly press Eustace’s. Eustace’s breath caught in his chest as the scent of lilies overwhelmed him.

“Only me!” Alberta sang out. “Got some lovely blooms for your bedroom, Edmund. Place needs a bit of cheering up, what with that dreadful picture looming over you.”

Edmund’s eyes darkened. Eustace hastily intervened: “What are your plans for tonight, Mother?”

“Your father and I are going to the pictures,” she replied. “High Society. Have you seen it, Edmund?”
EDMUND/EUSTACE: Nostalgia (2/2) - scoradh on June 18th, 2007 11:51 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - scoradh on June 18th, 2007 11:51 am (UTC) (Expand)
(Deleted comment)
(no subject) - scoradh on June 18th, 2007 08:07 pm (UTC) (Expand)
someone's always looking for DB Coopernumena on June 16th, 2007 02:39 pm (UTC)
congratulations! I don't actually know what a first class honor is, but it sounds very impressive! and four of them even more so. (:
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on June 18th, 2007 11:53 am (UTC)
A first class honour is 70% or more; an honour is 60% to 70%. Considering I just got 70% in all of them it's not quite as fantastic as, say, getting 99%, but what the hey. I a third year now!!
Lullaby in my hand: akudantodaythesamesky on June 16th, 2007 03:13 pm (UTC)
Eeee, congratulations! That's so awesome!

And, ummmm. Prince of Tennis, AkuDan, "I Don't Like Your Girlfriend." :D
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on June 18th, 2007 12:08 pm (UTC)
DAN/AKUTSU: Underhanded (1/3)
Dan didn’t like Akutsu’s girlfriends. This was a given, because no one liked Akutsu’s girlfriends. Not his mother, who was always complaining about her lack of decent female company. Not Kawamura, who was genetically engineered to get along with everyone. Not his smoking buddies, who resented Akutsu’s apparently inexplicable success with the ladies. Hell, Akutsu didn’t like them very much, and he was the one going out with them.

Dan’s perpetually cheerful face darkened whenever Akutsu appeared with one in tow. It was easy to see all the reasons why he might dislike them. Their skirts were too short and their blouses too tight, and they didn’t fasten their ties properly. All this would enrage Dan’s old-fashioned sense of propriety. Their hair was invariably of a shade never yet seen on Mother Nature’s palette, their fingernails were scarlet claws and they reeked of sex and cheap perfume. Not something to endear them to Dan, who was as chaste as a nun. Chaster. Was that even a word? Akutsu’d have to check – with Dan. Of course, then he’d have to explain the context because Dan would never rest until he knew. Maybe he should try a dictionary instead.

But when all was said and done, Akutsu was a boy with needs. He didn’t treat his girlfriends badly, for all that he didn’t respect them in the least. He bought them food and cinema tickets, gifts and trinkets, and he always let them break up with him. In return he got sex on tap, which was vital for a growing boy.

Who else was going to provide it – his mother? That was just too gross for words, although if he’d been in Kawamura’s position he might have considered it. Akutsu would have gone for Kawamura himself if he hadn’t known the boy was straight as a die (although not one belonging to Akutsu). Boy or girl – it didn’t really bother Akutsu, so long as there was a warm, wet mouth wrapped around his dick whenever he wanted it. Returning the favour wasn’t as fun, but Sengoku had been a good teacher, at least.

Once, his mind had thrown up the idea of asking Dan. Akutsu had thrown it right back down again. The very idea was obscene. Dan was … Dan was precious. Like a saint or something. You didn’t ask saints to go down on you because you were horny and needed a release. At the very least you’d need to buy out a florist’s to woo him, and Akutsu didn’t have that kind of money.

In general the girlfriends were good-natured towards Dan. The ones that weren’t never lasted very long. Dan stopped being chirpy around them and turned mutinous instead, but they still thought he was adorable. Seeing as Akutsu shared this opinion he didn’t bawl them out for cooing over Dan. It was sort of like Akutsu was doing it by proxy, which suited him just fine.

Until Dan got a girlfriend of his own.

Akutsu’s mom liked her. Kawamura liked her. Akutsu’s smoking buddies never met her or girls like her, so their views could not be canvassed. Kairi-kun was hard not to like, being as small and delicate and affable and sweet as Dan. But Akutsu managed it. In fact, he hated her with a passion. What’s more, Dan realised it – and he didn’t do a damn thing about it.

This made Akutsu fume. He’d always got rid of the girlfriends who suggested Dan was like a puppy sniffing Akutsu’s heels. He’d never thought Dan would refuse to pay him the same courtesy. Then again he’d never imagined Dan having a girlfriend … kissing a girl … being touched by a girl. He was too pristine, too perfect for that. But it was happening all the same.
DAN/AKUTSU: Underhanded (2/3) - scoradh on June 18th, 2007 12:10 pm (UTC) (Expand)
DAN/AKUTSU: Underhanded (3/3) - scoradh on June 18th, 2007 12:11 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: DAN/AKUTSU: Underhanded (3/3) - todaythesamesky on June 18th, 2007 09:52 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: DAN/AKUTSU: Underhanded (3/3) - scoradh on June 20th, 2007 07:45 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: DAN/AKUTSU: Underhanded (3/3) - todaythesamesky on June 20th, 2007 09:31 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - scoradh on June 18th, 2007 12:13 pm (UTC) (Expand)
leairanleairan on June 16th, 2007 05:06 pm (UTC)
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on June 18th, 2007 11:54 am (UTC)
Thank you! :D
Two-Thirds Slow, One-Third Amazing.: gay ice creamwiser_9 on June 16th, 2007 06:49 pm (UTC)
If only I were faring as well as you, college wise. *headdesk*

Anyways! Yes! Harry/Draco for teh win! The song is "December", by Regina Spektor. And here's the song on You Tube, uh, just ignore the clip.

every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on June 18th, 2007 11:56 am (UTC)
HARRY/DRACO: Evacuation (1/2)
Harry tossed an apple as he walked down the corridors of the Ministry of Magic. The food they supplied was one step up from the testicular froth of a dead toad, so new employees quickly learned to bring their own snacks and go out for lunch whenever possible. Harry was contemplating adding an orange to his dietary repertoire, so that he could juggle as he walked to his office. Anything he could do to liven up the Auror headquaters was a good thing, so far as he was concerned.

As usual, he was the first one in. Everyone else put off fighting the forces of evil and mis-charmed teaspoons in favour of an extra five minutes in bed. Not Harry. He liked to get a jump on the day and more particularly the inbox, so he could snaffle the plum jobs for himself. His life held few pleasures, considering Ron was dead and Hermione on sabbatical in Dubai. He was allowed this much. He had saved the world, after all.

The point about saving the world, of course, was that you saved the whole world. Not just the people and places that deserved to be saved. That was why they were still hunting down Death Eaters and insurgents who considered themselves allied with the late Lord Voldemort. Thus, Harry was unsurprised to see Draco Malfoy’s name on a memo.

He read the report aloud to himself, crunching the apple between sentances. It was quite juicy and he ended up spraying the report liberally with spit, something he’d quite like to do to Malfoy in person.

“We have received notice from the Muggle authorities that a group of unusual squatters are inhabiting a condemned house in Camden. The Muggles in question give evidence of flying furniture and strange lights and noises coming from inside. Please send a small squad to investigate. We have already Obliviated five Muggles, although more stringent measures may be necessary.”

“Fantastic,” muttered Harry, and scrawled his signature along the bottom of the report. “I’ll take this one.”

Draco Malfoy was one of the few known Death Eaters still at large, which was why his name had come up in the keywords of the report. It was quite likely that he was the squatter, as any non-criminal wizard wishing to take over abandoned Muggle property would have filled in the relevant forms for ownership. All that remained a mystery was why Malfoy had been so stupid as to bring attention to himself this way; but Malfoy wasn’t exactly the brightest button on the cardigan. His idea of cunning was other people’s idea of blatantly obvious.

Harry finished his apple in a leisurely fashion as he made his way to the lifts. Once outside, he Apparated to a designated area within Camden Town. As soon as he turned down the street to the right address, he could hear the strains of Celestina Warbeck pouring out of the windows of a dilapidated old house. Harry rolled his eyes. Malfoy might as well have hung out a welcome banner.

Giving a rudimentary street check for Muggles abroad, Harry knocked soundly on the door. “Aurors! Open up!”

There was a patter of feet and the sound of locks being thrown. “Is someone there?”

“Aurors!” Harry repeated, irked. “Open up.”

A pause. “Shan’t.”

“Malfoy,” growled Harry, “I know you’re in there. Do you want me to put you down for evading arrest, on top of everything else?”

“Oh, all right.” Even through two inches of oak, Harry could hear the sulkiness in Malfoy’s voice. The door inched open. Malfoy’s narrow face poked through, topped by a garish turban in shades of purple and gold. “You’re interrupting my bath, I’ll have you know.”

“I deeply apologise,” said Harry, pushing his way past Malfoy. He noted that Malfoy was swathed in a silk dressing gown that matched his turban. “Malfoy, why do you look like a blind Arab sheik?”
HARRY/DRACO: Evacuation (2/2) - scoradh on June 18th, 2007 11:58 am (UTC) (Expand)
Re: HARRY/DRACO: Evacuation (2/2) - (Anonymous) on June 19th, 2007 02:07 am (UTC) (Expand)
Re: HARRY/DRACO: Evacuation (2/2) - wiser_9 on June 19th, 2007 02:16 am (UTC) (Expand)
Re: HARRY/DRACO: Evacuation (2/2) - scoradh on June 19th, 2007 06:23 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(Deleted comment)
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on June 20th, 2007 08:55 pm (UTC)
MAL/SIMON: Problem Solving (1/2)
Simon had been schlepping around the ship for weeks now, like some big goram snail with a stethoscope. Mal was getting right sick of it. In fact, screw ‘getting;’ he already was, and he wasn’t about to stand it for a second longer. So he went right to Zoe and demanded she do something about it.

Zoe turned reproachful eyes on him. No one could do reproachful like Zoe. Mal wished he could tick her off for still grieving over Wash, seeing as how after four years most of them had got on with it. But that would be a mite too insensitive, even for him.

“What is it you think is wrong with Simon?” she asked. “He looks the same as usual to me.”

Mal made a growly noise in the back of his throat. “He’s sulking. Can’t you tell?”

“Let me tell you two things about Simon, before I let you go off and clean up this mess yourself,” said Zoe heavily. “One: Simon is a sulky kid. Oh, I know he’s nearly thirty, but he’s still got the mentality of a child. River shows more maturity than him at the best of times. Two: the main cause of Simon being sulky, Mal, is invariably you.”

“I didn’t do nothin’ to him,” interjected Mal, aggrieved. “Well, not lately.”

“Is that so,” said Zoe, in a way that stopped it being a question. “Have you noticed any absences around the ship lately? Any mechanics we might be missing with whom he might be romantically involved?”

“Kaylee left of her own free will.” Mal was sick of being blamed for this. River was shaping up to be a fine little repairman – woman – girl – crazy person, and it wasn’t like Kaylee was gone forever. “She wanted that post."

“She only knew about ‘that post’ because you told her, Mal!” Zoe wiped down her black leather coat in disgust. She’d gone out and bought a wardrobe full of black clothes after the funeral. Mal wasn’t sure why she bothered; seeing as how they were all black anyway, surely one of everything would be enough. “Could you do me a favour, Mal, and promise me never to carry snail juice as a cargo ever again?”

“You wanted to go clean, we went clean.”

“You call this clean?” Zoe gestured at her clothes. There was a certain suggestion of gooeyness about them. “I mean, snail juice I understand. Huge market for fuel on Euryalus. But why the snails as well?”

Mal managed to extricate himself from the conversation pretty smartly after that. Fact was he hadn’t been seeing too well the day they made that deal, and that wily fox Flaccus had managed to sell him the whole shebang: snails, cages, snail feed – hell, goram snail amusement parks. He didn’t want to admit that to Zoe, because then he’d have to tell her the reason he couldn’t see was that Simon had punched him for sending Kaylee away. It was amazing what a puny man could do when he was all fired up with rage.

Mal hid in the galley, somewhat at a loose end. The hold was off-limits unless he wanted to discuss snails some more with Zoe. The engine-room had been colonised by River as her personal private playpen. The ship seemed to be running smoother than ever, although unless Mal was much mistaken the background whirring noises had turned into recognizable melodies. Of course he wouldn’t dare venture near the infirmary, not even if he was bleeding to death. That was Simon’s territory. Simon who hated him – genuine hate, not the old hate bred of resentment and fear, but honest-to-goodness bile.

Mal could have told anyone who listened – i.e. no one – that Kaylee had wanted this till his lips fell off. Times like these he wished Shepard was still around to whine at.

It wasn’t his way to pry into his shipmates’ business, but it was hard to keep secrets in a place like this. (Although the kittens River had been raising in her bunk bed managed to come as a surprise.)

He knew Kaylee and Simon had been having ‘troubles’ and that Kaylee wanted to ‘clear her head.’ The chance to be head mechanic on one of those poncy intergalactic cruise ships had seemed star-destined for her. She could get away for a while and earn some cash while she was at it; maybe enough to set her and Simon up on their own. The money Simon had from cashing in his bonds was fast dwindling.
MAL/SIMON: Problem Solving (2/2) - scoradh on June 20th, 2007 08:56 pm (UTC) (Expand)
JRevalangui on June 16th, 2007 11:13 pm (UTC)
Wait, you get honours and you're glad you just passed? You guys must have a really fucked up grading system if you call your passing grades "honours" XD. Either way, I'm glad everything turned alright for you after all the stress, congratulations! *gives more cake*

I would love any Harry Potter slash at this point, hell, even het but actual requests...*exams have eaten her brain*, I will just sit here quietly and hope someone else comes with an idea that inspires you :)
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on June 18th, 2007 12:00 pm (UTC)
Y'see, it all comes down to percentages: a first class is 70 to 100%, so obviously people who score nearer to 100% get more weights in marks. Plus, it depends how much the module was worth; two of my 1Hs were in 5 credit modules, not 10 or 15 ones. Still, s'all good!

Have a look around the comments, I've posted some HP slash already. Hope you like some of it! :D
(no subject) - evalangui on June 19th, 2007 02:43 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Sereniaserenia on June 17th, 2007 12:27 am (UTC)
Congratulations, and well done! *hughugs*
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on June 18th, 2007 11:54 am (UTC)
Merci buckets, dahlin'!
Jaximadra_blue on June 17th, 2007 01:31 am (UTC)
Congratulations on the Honors! That is very awesome, and always the best feeling. :D I send you many tidings of celebration.

And since you're offering, I'm going to request a Remus Lupin fic. it can be gen or ship, but please Lupin/Tonks (gives me hives, see).

Here's a picture for inspiration:

Also, hi. Long time, no talkie!
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on June 18th, 2007 12:01 pm (UTC)
Also, hi. Long time, no talkie!

Diverging fandoms are a bitch! Still, my brother now has all 9 SW DVDs ... you never know, one day soon I may be in your fandom, stealing your light sabres. :D

I presume you meant no Lupin/Tonks, right? (Not that I would write it anyway, erlack erlack). ♥
(no subject) - imadra_blue on June 18th, 2007 01:10 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - scoradh on June 18th, 2007 12:02 pm (UTC) (Expand)
REMUS/CHARLIE: Construction (1/2) - scoradh on June 20th, 2007 08:43 pm (UTC) (Expand)
REMUS/CHARLIE: Construction (2/2) - scoradh on June 20th, 2007 08:45 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: REMUS/CHARLIE: Construction (2/2) - imadra_blue on June 22nd, 2007 07:42 am (UTC) (Expand)
Me and my Bride of Frankenstein: [tennis] callin' the TEZalice_and_lain on June 17th, 2007 03:08 am (UTC)
Congratulations! Passing with honors is always an accomplishment!

Hm. How about Inui/Tezuka? Song: "King of Wishful Thinking"
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on June 20th, 2007 08:57 pm (UTC)

Just to let you know, I haven't forgotten your request. In fact, I'm mulling it over. I left it till last because as the most challenging I wanted to devote the most time to it. In case you were wonderin'!
INUI/TEZUKA: Extrapolation (1/2) - scoradh on June 23rd, 2007 09:29 pm (UTC) (Expand)
INUI/TEZUKA: Extrapolation (2/2) - scoradh on June 23rd, 2007 09:33 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: INUI/TEZUKA: Extrapolation (2/2) - alice_and_lain on September 13th, 2007 02:18 am (UTC) (Expand)
aldebaran1977: Malfoy Is Our Queenaldebaran1977 on June 17th, 2007 12:31 pm (UTC)
Congarts! And as you can think is very probable from me: Harry/Draco. As a picture there is my user pic and a song (Ha, I fulfil both requests at once!) here! ;-)
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on June 20th, 2007 08:49 pm (UTC)
HARRY/DRACO: Misdirection (1/2)
Harry hadn’t wanted a stag party, but nay-saying the entire male Weasley clan was a more terrifying prospect than standing in front of forty thousand tanks in Tiananmen Square. The aggro wasn’t worth the effort, considering Harry wasn’t dead set against stags or anything. He’d just wanted a quiet night in to forget that after this he’d no longer be a free man.

He loved Luna. In fact, he’d probably loved her as long as he’d known her without ever realizing it. She’d been there for him as he grieved over Ginny and waited at Ron’s bedside all those long, lonely months. Hermione had been too wrapped up in her own grief to help Harry. Ron had woken up eventually; and soon after, so did Harry.

After Ginny died, Harry hadn’t thought it possible that he would love again. His heart had been put into deep-freeze. Luna had melted it, by making him laugh at her antics and share in her hair-brained schemes. He wasn’t the least bit uncertain about spending the rest of his life with her, but it was still a nerve-wracking prospect. Some quiet reflection wouldn’t have gone astray. Instead, he was getting a brothel.

“We wanted something extra-special for the Boy Who Lived,” leered George, “so we’re taking you to Christine’s.”

“Is that good?” Harry wanted to know. “And aren’t these places known as the Palace of Pleasure or the Temple of Temptation?”

“Wow, Harry.” Fred sounded impressed. “Maybe you should give up the Auror business and go into writing headlines instead.”

“I can’t believe you haven’t heard of Christine’s,” said Charlie, with a dreamy look on his face. “I always spend my end-of-year bonus at her place. Best night’s work I ever do.”

“You blow four thousand Galleons on hookers?” Harry wondered if his deprived childhood had turned him into a late-blooming spendthrift.

“Actually, they blow me,” corrected Charlie.

“This is a high-class establishment,” said Bill, who should have known better. “The ladies of the night have to undergo –”

“Ooh-er,” said Ron.

“– all sorts of rigorous tests –”

“Ooh-er,” said Ron.

“– to be allowed to work there. It’s like the Prostitute Mecca.”

“And it’s not like you can’t afford it,” Fred chimed in. “Plus, we got Christine to give you a group discount. For saving the world and all.”

What else could Harry do? He shrugged, sighed and gave in.

The girls working at Christine’s were a wet dream come to life. In fact they were a dozen wet dreams all squeezed (‘Ooh-er,’ said Ron) under one roof. No matter if your taste ran to naughty schoolgirls or skimpily-clad mermaids, Christine’s had it. The most amazing thing, to Harry’s mind, was how happy the girls looked. They actually seemed pleased to be working there and having sex for money, which Harry supposed was a bonus.

The Weasleys scattered like leaves on the wind. For some reason Bill, who had a Veela at home, gravitated to a group of short, plump African women. Charlie predictably went for the Amazons, and Ron could be heard asking one curly-haired girl if she’d ever read Hogwarts: a History.

Fred hung back to whisper, awe-struck, in Harry’s ear. “As a very great privilege, Christine herself is going to service you, Harry. She hasn’t taken a client in years. You’re so lucky; it’s meant to be like fucking a virgin.”

“Oh,” said Harry unenthusiastically. He’d already done that twice, and it had been nothing to write home about.

He was led up plush stairs lit with gaslights into a boudoir gleaming with brass and draped in velvet. It was extremely tarty, which was appropriate. Christine herself was sitting behind a screen. She appeared to be quite tall and dumpy, as if she were swathed in towels.
“You may leave,” a husky voice – Christine’s – told the two attendants with Harry. They bowed and shut the door softly behind them.
HARRY/DRACO: Misdirection (2/2) - scoradh on June 20th, 2007 08:51 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: HARRY/DRACO: Misdirection (2/2) - aldebaran1977 on June 20th, 2007 10:23 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: HARRY/DRACO: Misdirection (2/2) - scoradh on June 21st, 2007 01:16 pm (UTC) (Expand)
thrnbrookethrnbrooke on June 18th, 2007 06:26 pm (UTC)
Gotta go read part 2!
gabbysun on June 25th, 2007 04:47 am (UTC)
obnoxious emoticoning follows
:)) I love you! Congratulations! (I would have bought you that cake if I had, well, uh, known you in RL :( )

every Starbucks should have a polar bear: Atobe: So awesomescoradh on June 25th, 2007 08:22 pm (UTC)
Re: obnoxious emoticoning follows

When did that happen? Never mind, are you here to stay?
Re: obnoxious emoticoning follows - gabbysun on June 25th, 2007 09:37 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: obnoxious emoticoning follows - scoradh on June 25th, 2007 10:54 pm (UTC) (Expand)