This journal is as lousy as it is brilliant.

Warm [Kensei/Mashiro]

Wed, 17 Dec 2008 04:25:22 GMT

Title: Warm
Author: heron_advocate
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Kensei/Mashiro
Character(s): Kensei, Mashiro
Summary: "Mashiro?! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
Prompt(s): "suffocate" for 100_situations
Word Count: 124
A/N: omg, I am appalled at the lack of fic for this pairing! Expect to see more of this from me. Also, sometimes I really hate trying to think of titles for fics.

"You're so warm, Kensei~."

"Shut up, Mashiro," he mumbled, voice heavy with sleep. He laid there for a few moments longer, until the situation had time to penetrate the fog of his drowsiness. When his brain finally registered what was going on, his eyes snapped open.

"Mashiro?! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Mmmm...be quiet, Kensei. People are trying to sleep." She snuggled closer to him, if that was even possible. "Besides, you don't want to wake the others, do you?" she asked sweetly.

He made a frustrated noise, but made no move to push her away, as she thought he would. "You're so damn annoying."

Mashiro smiled into his chest.

"I've got half a mind to suffocate you while you sleep."

To Meet Once More: [Arnold/Helga]

Tue, 09 Dec 2008 01:55:20 GMT

Title: To Meet Once More
Author: heron_advocate
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Arnold/Helga
Character(s): Arnold, Helga
Summary: An unlikely and unexpected meeting between a pirate and an officer.
Word Count: 1152
A/N: Pirate!AU. I originally wrote this for the AU Arnold/Helga fanmix over at hillwood_guild.

The guards were tense. It was understandable, he thought. This rogue had a reputation; not only for murder and mayhem - something rather commonplace in this region of the world - but for escape.

Arnold slowed as he neared the captive's cell. The guard in front of him fiddled with the keys nervously, dropping them twice before successfully opening the lock.

"Are you certain you'll be alright, sir?" he asked, casting a worried glance towards the figure in the corner. Arnold waved his hand dismissively, gesturing to the guard to leave them alone. The guard didn't look convinced, but retreated nonetheless, closing off the cell and locking it behind him.

"If you need anything, sir--"

"I'll be sure to call," Arnold interrupted. The guard simply nodded; Arnold waited until the sound of his footfalls could no longer be heard before turning toward the back of the cell, where a lone being was perched on a worn-looking bench, head bowed. Arnold wondered if he was sleeping.

He cleared his throat loudly. The man - or boy, really...he looked like a stiff wind might bowl him over - looked up, but said nothing.

"You're to be hanged at noon tomorrow, do you know that?"

The pirate tilted his head, but did not respond.

"Of all the pirates I've arrested, you are by far the least resistant. I marvel that you managed to operate for so long."

The pirate grinned rakishly. "Perhaps this is all part o' my plan," replied a scratchy voice that suggested someone trying to sound much older than he was.

"To wait until the very last moment to make a daring escape?" he asked the pirate, who still had not even bothered to look up. "You do have quite a reputation."

The boy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The too-large hat and unkempt blonde hair obscured most of his face, but Arnold could clearly make out that the boy was still smirking. It disturbed him that the youth wasn't more worried about his current situation.

"I've broke out o' many a cell stronger than this."

"Not under my guard."

"And wot's so special about you, then?"

Arnold noted that the boy's voice had now lost its scratchy quality. He wondered what had caused him to drop his guard.

"I have yet to lose a prisoner."

"You'll lose one tomorrow, if everything goes your way," the boy pointed out, laughing a little. He slapped his leg as he did so, and Arnold couldn't help but think that the gesture - combined with the boy's slouching posture - distinctly reminded him of something. But he couldn't remember what.

"There's still time. To repent."

The boy tilted his chin upward, and Arnold thought for a moment that he was going to make eye contact. Arnold was disappointed when he didn't. He found that curious.

"No need to be so serious," the boy responded. "Wot do you care what 'appens to me?"

"I care," Arnold answered, and it was true. Many called him naïve, but he had never believed that evil deeds made an evil man.

"About someone you've never met?" the lad asked, tone suggesting that he already knew the answer.

"Of course."

The boy grinned even wider, if it was possible. "I never did understand that," he said, pushing his hat back to reveal his eyes - his blue eyes. Familiar blue eyes.

"Helga?" Arnold sputtered in disbelief.

"I always thought you were strange," she continued, ignoring his outburst.

"You're John the Englishman?"

"The very same," she said, removing her hat altogether and placing it on the bench next to her. "Surprised?"

Arnold removed his own cap, resisting the urge to run a hand through his hair as he regarded the woman in front of him, whom he hadn't seen - hadn't thought he'd seen, anyway - in well over a decade.

"It explains quite a bit, as a matter of fact. How you could be so successful and not look a day over the age of sixteen, for instance."

She smiled at that. "It does make some fellows quite angry to be bested by a teenager," she responded. "I'm sure it would make them even angrier to know I was a woman."

"You sound proud of what you've done," Arnold said, frowning in disapproval. Helga looked away from him.

"How else did you think I would turn out, considering..."

"I thought you were better."

Helga gritted her teeth. "Well, I'm not," she snapped, crossing her arms. "You really are naïve."

"And you are going to die tomorrow."

"Just another day," she said flatly. Arnold sighed as he moved closer, settling down next to her.

"If you cared more about your own life..."

Helga looked at him, brushing her uneven bangs out of her face. "It doesn't matter."

"It does!" Arnold shouted back. Next to him, Helga jumped, apparently astonished at the force of his response.

"I apologize for my outburst," he said. She shrugged. "You should have let me help you..."

"Would you help me now, Arnold?" she asked, and he shivered a little at the sound of his name on her lips. "Would you rescue me from certain death?" she continued, leaning into him. He struggled to control his ragged breath as he responded.

"My duty--"

"That's what I thought," she interrupted, scooting away from him suddenly.

"I can't erase the things you've done, Helga."

"I knew you'd never sully your good name. Not for me, not for anyone."

"You're not being fair."

She snorted in disgust. "'Fair'? There's no such thing as 'fair.'"

"Helga, listen to me. If they discover that you are a female--"

"You wouldn't dare," she said ominously, her eyes boring into his. "I would never forgive you."

"It's better than death!" he insisted, hands moving to grip her shoulders.

"Not for me, it isn't!"

"Listen to reason, Helga!"

"I'm being reasonable! I'm a bad person. If I ought to be killed as a man, then I ought to be killed as a woman."

"You're not a bad person," he said quietly, his thumb moving to stroke her neck of its own accord. She stiffened.

"Now you're not being fair," she breathed, drawing a deep breath and pursing her lips. Arnold's hand moved to cup her face. He wondered what made him so bold. "You shouldn't act as though you--"

Arnold chose this moment to pull her towards him and smash his lips against hers, effectively silencing her. Helga's lips parted with no prodding at all, as if she'd been expecting it - as if she'd been craving it.

"You're wrong," he said huskily when they broke apart, his thumb stroking her cheek. "I would do it, to save you."

Helga closed her eyes as if she couldn't bear to look at him a second longer. "I wouldn't want you to," she responded, a single tear spilling down her cheek.

Where He Wasn't Looking: [Mugen/Fuu]

Mon, 04 Aug 2008 17:08:22 GMT

Title: Where He Wasn't Looking
Author: heron_advocate
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Mugen/Fuu
Character(s): Fuu, Mugen
Summary: Mugen and Fuu meet again.
Prompt(s): "haunted" for 10_prompts
Word Count: 697

He hadn't expected to see her working outside a swordsmith's shop - but then, she had a rather annoying habit of turning up where he wasn't looking for her.

"The universe just won't let me get ridda you, will it?" was the first thing he said to her, smirking as he did so.

"Good to see you, too, Mugen," she responded sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she looked up at him.

"I didn't even know they let girls work in places like this."

She only shrugged, wiping a bit of sweat from her brow. "The owner thinks I'm cute."

"Ya ain't bangin' him, are ya?" he asked, crossing his arms as she met his gaze. "Not that I'd care if ya were."

"Ugh!" she exclaimed. "You're so disgusting sometimes!"

"So...ya feel like buyin' me somethin' to eat?"

---

"So how come yer workin' there and not in a place like this?" he asked, lazily sipping his drink as he gestured around the teahouse.

"I thought it was time for a change," she responded wistfully, fingering the tanto in her lap.

"An' ya couldn't get me outta yer head, couldja?" he cajoled, giving her a toothy grin. "Can't say I blame ya, I'm pretty unforgettable."

Fuu stared at him flatly. "How can such a complete loser be so full of himself?" Mugen simply stuck his tongue out at her before cramming his mouth full of food.

They ate in a companionable silence. After a while, he got the feeling that she was trying to say something, but wasn't quite sure that she should. He ignored her, pretending not to notice as he ate the last of the food.

She really must have had something on her mind, because she made no objection.

She sighed next to him. "I really did miss you, Mugen," she said sincerely, and so quietly that he wasn't so sure she'd said it at all. He paused, holding a piece of squid mid-way between his mouth and the bowl in front of him. He wasn't sure how to respond to her statement, so he remained silent, resting his hands on the table.

He stiffened in surprise when she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. She reached up, taking hold of the hand closest to her.

"Did you miss me, even a little?"

Suddenly, he found it incredibly hard to speak. She took his silence as his answer.

"I guess not. You wouldn't, would you?" she asked sadly. He could feel her smile against his shoulder, even though he could tell from her voice that she was crying.

"Fuu..." he managed finally, not being able to explain to himself why her tears were affecting him so.

"Don't, Mugen," she interrupted, and he thought that she sounded so much more grown-up than when he'd left her. "It's enough that you're here now, even if you will be gone by tomorrow."

"Like hell I will," he responded, suddenly finding his voice, and she pulled her head from his shoulder to look at him questioningly. "I just got a free meal!"

She threw her head back and laughed; a real, genuine laugh, one he hadn't heard in quite some time. He was proud to have been the cause of it.

"Same old Mugen," she said, smiling at him; he felt for all the world like he was special, to be smiled at like that - and by someone like Fuu. She sighed happily, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek - which he thought might have been a little too mushy for him, but he found he didn't mind it so much.

"It's good to have you back, Mugen."

Mugen was about to respond that she didn't "have" him when he felt something hit his leg rather hard.

"The hell?" he said, blinking as sunlight suddenly blinded him - which he found odd, considering he was sitting in a teahouse. He looked beside him, only to discover that he wasn't in a teahouse at all, and Fuu was nowhere to be seen.

"Oi, you can't sleep here, pirate. Get moving."

Mugen waited until the man retreated before sighing to himself. Every goddamn night this month.

---

A/N: Wow, I feel kind of awful for doing that to Mugen.

Excluded: [Jayne/River]

Sun, 03 Aug 2008 07:50:08 GMT

Title: Excluded
Author: heron_advocate
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): pre-Jayne/River
Character(s): Jayne, River, the rest of the crew (notably Wash, Mal, & Kaylee)
Summary: River shows her affection for the crew while Jayne feels left out.
Prompt(s): "hug" for 10_fics
Word Count: 1356
A/N: Timeline is post-OiS, pre-Serenity.

It wasn't as though he paid special attention to her, or anything. But by the third time she'd made her way through the mess, he was getting a little curious.

So he decided to tail her.

He followed her down to the passenger dorms, to Book's room, careful to keep a safe distance so she wouldn't notice him. It was hard to see what was going on from where he was standing, but it looked to him like River was...was she hugging the preacher?

Huh, was all Jayne could think. ...huh. He didn't think he'd ever seen River touch anyone besides her brother before. She was soon leaving Book's room, turning to give him a wave and a smile on the way out.

Well, now he was intrigued.

Next she was skipping jauntily up the stairs, back towards the mess. She turned toward the crew quarters, swaying as she half-walked, half-danced in the direction of the bridge.

Gorram moonbrain, he thought, rolling his eyes at her display.

He watched from a considerable distance as she entered the bridge, where Wash was occupying the pilot's chair, playing with those dinosaurs of his. Wash paused in his behavior as River approached.

Jayne couldn't see her face from where he was standing, but it was obvious from the way Wash was focused on her that she was speaking. Before he knew it, the pilot was standing, and River was wrapping him in a tight embrace, prompting Jayne to think on what exactly he'd done to deserve it.

The preacher, alright, I could understand that, but that annoyin' little pipsqueak? Jayne scowled, suddenly thinking that Wash was enjoying the hug a little too much, in his opinion.

He barely had time to slip down into his bunk before River was heading back down the hallway. Quick little thing, he thought, waiting a few moments before emerging again. He poked his head out just in time to see her breeze through the mess, walking toward the catwalk.

He stood at the entrance to the cargo bay, hiding partially behind the door frame, silently observing as River drifted down the stairs.

Mal was standing in the corner next to some crates, holding what appeared to be a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. Jayne found that strange, as he'd never actually seen Mal doing paperwork before. He wondered what other sorts of things Mal did when he wasn't looking.

River approached, tapping him on the shoulder. Mal seemed surprised at first, but his expression soon softened into a warm smile. Jayne could hear Mal's voice in his head saying, "Hey there, little River."

Just as before, River spoke for a few moments, then wrapped her skinny arms around Mal's neck.

This hug lasted considerably longer than the previous two had. Jayne ran his tongue over his teeth, something he often did when he was annoyed. He bristled a little when he noticed Mal gently rubbing the girl's back.

As soon as they broke apart, Jayne turned away, a disgusted look gracing his features. Kaylee bounded in from the engine room, giving him a curious look as she headed over to the stove.

"What's got yer unders in a twist?"

"I needa excuse to be in a bad mood?" he snapped, crossing his arms in irritation.

"I reckon not," she responded, shrugging. "Ya may as well sit," she continued, gesturing to the table with the spoon in her hand, "supper's nearly ready." Jayne kicked Mal's chair before settling into the seat he usually took.

"Soup's on!" Kaylee shouted, placing a stack of plates and silverware in front of Jayne, who placed them around the table.

The crew filed into the mess, and within a few minutes, most of them were tearing into their dinner. Jayne was eating considerably more slowly than usual, finding his appetite somewhat diminished for a reason he couldn't identify.

River, who was sitting next to him, reached over to pick a piece of bread from his plate. When he made no move to stop her and didn't even give any indication that he'd noticed, she spoke.

"Are the victuals unsatisfactory?" she queried, tilting her head at him. Jayne noted that Kaylee looked worried at the thought, so he rushed to assuage her concerns.

"Naw, just ain't that hungry."

There was a brief moment of silence as everyone at the table paused in their activities, absorbing what Jayne had just said.

"Well, that's one thing I never thought I'd hear ya say," Mal said. Jayne's glare went unnoticed as everyone resumed eating. Deciding that the rest of the crew was suitably distracted, he turned to River.

"What was ya about on the ship today?" he asked her, glad that no one seemed to overhear or even notice that he was addressing her, as that would have no doubt given them pause, as well. She didn't respond, only looked questioningly at him.

"Ya know, runnin' back an' forth."

"She was dispensing gifts," she responded.

"What kinda gifts?"

"Gifts for the crew."

"Ain't I crew?" He asked, not willing to admit to himself that it bothered him to be left out.

"The gifts were affectionate embraces," River said, as if that explained everything.

"Aw, does Jayne-y need a hug?" Wash interrupted before Jayne could respond. Jayne cursed himself for not noticing that the little man had been listening in. He was just about to wipe that smug look off of Wash's face when he was interrupted again by Mal.

"Don't tell me my merc's gettin' soft on me. Next thing ya know, he'll be wantin' frilly pink dresses, too."

The table erupted in laughter. Even Zoë cracked a smile, though she seemed to be attempting to hide it. Jayne stood up abruptly and stalked towards his bunk, not even bothering to grab some food on his way out.

---

He watched over the top of his magazine as the girl poked her head into his bunk.

"Get the hell outta here," he sneered at her.

"She meant no offense," River said, as if she hadn't heard him.

Jayne didn't respond, only pulled the magazine farther up to obstruct his view of River's head.

"She did not think the Jayne-man would wish for physical contact with the girl." Her voice was much closer now.

"I don't," Jayne answered without looking up. Not that Jayne had ever been averse to "gettin' physical" with most women-folk.

"Actions speak more loudly," she said. He dropped his magazine into his lap, not quite sure what she meant.

"He followed her," she continued. "Spied."

Jayne's jaw clenched. So she'd known he was there all the time?

"The crew is her family now. Shows of affection are appropriate."

"Whatever, ain't none a' my concern."

"She desired to give the mercenary a hug as well. She reached the conclusion that her offer would be rejected."

She paused, as though expecting him to respond. The silence stretched between them for a few moments before she continued.

"Did she miscalculate?"

Jayne was uncharacteristically at a loss to answer; even though his mind was telling him to shout, "Hell no, you wasn't wrong!" and send her on her way, he couldn't bring himself to say anything. He simply hoped that she would take it upon herself to leave, as he was in no mood to force her.

But rather than leaving, she stepped closer to him. He could feel her long hair tickling his arm. Jayne let out a shaky breath, disturbed by her closeness.

"What the gorram hell d'you want?" he asked fiercely, fed up with her staring at him. She responded by jumping into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. On reflex, Jayne's hands came around to cup her bottom, but he quickly removed them when he realized what exactly he'd been doing. Not finding any suitable place to put them, he simply let them rest on his bunk.

"Jayne is family, too," she whispered against his ear. He shuddered at the sensation.

"Yeah, yeah," Jayne responded, immensely proud that he sounded much calmer than he felt. "Just don't go tellin' nobody 'bout this."

Facade: [Zacharias/Ginny]

Mon, 19 Feb 2007 08:01:56 GMT

Title: Facade
Author: heron_advocate
Rating: PG for character death
Pairing(s): Zacharias/Ginny
Character(s): Ginny Weasley, a small Neville Longbottom appearance and allusions to Zacharias Smith
Summary: Ginny was getting along just fine. Really.
Prompt(s): "reflection" for 7rainbowprompts
Word Count: 491
A/N: Woo, angst!

Ginny didn't think that something like this should bother her.

So she didn't let it.

Rather than think about it, she pushed it to the back of her mind and resumed her daily routine. (She was used to doing that sort of thing, nowadays - what with people dying left and right.) School and Quidditch, school and Quidditch. Maybe if that's all she thought about, she could keep herself from going insane.

McGonagall had been talking of canceling Quidditch - she'd said as much to the Gryffindor team at their first practice. The only reason it had been allowed to continue (or so Ginny thought) was that she had practically begged McGonagall not to cancel it. They needed it, Ginny told her. Now more than ever; it was something that was comforting in its normalcy, if only for a short while.

At any other time, perhaps, she would never dream of begging for something as silly as Quidditch. (Ginny Weasley did not beg. Well, not normally.) But no Quidditch meant more free time. More free time meant more time for undistracted thinking. And if there was one thing that she was trying to avoid nowadays, it was thinking too much about things that ought to be put off until at least such a time that she could deal with them.

As things were, she knew she couldn't. It was the same reason she didn't read the newspaper anymore. It was the same reason--

Quidditch, she interrupted her thoughts before they could progress any further. That's right, Quidditch. They'd pummeled Hufflepuff yesterday--which wasn't saying much, considering that Hufflepuff barely had enough players for a team, but it reassured her nonetheless. It was comforting to know that she was still good at something--still able to function normally, despite her muddled thoughts.

She turned around to quip at Zacharias (nothing more normal than that) - who, for some reason, always sat directly behind her at the Hufflepuff table (and she always purposefully took an aisle seat...because it was easier to hurl insults at him that way - yes, that was it) - but he wasn't there.

She turned back around and stared at her plate, an uneasy feeling in her stomach. Her eyes began to burn; she fought to keep the tears from falling. She could tell that Neville, who was sitting next to her, was purposefully avoiding looking at her. She silently thanked him.

How could she have forgotten that he was dead?

Oh, for Merlin's sake, you didn't even like the boy, she berated herself, wiping her face with resolve. Show some backbone. Besides, you know, he'd only make fun of you if he knew you were crying over him.

At that thought, she snapped to attention. She wouldn't let Zacharias get the better of her, not even in death.

"Lucky bastard," she muttered, shoving a final spoonful of porridge into her mouth before standing up to face the day.

The Sounds of Silence: [Harold/Rhonda]

Mon, 19 Feb 2007 06:21:43 GMT

Title: The Sounds of Silence
Author: heron_advocate
Rating: PG for mild swearing
Pairing(s): Harold/Rhonda
Character(s): Harold Berman, Rhonda Lloyd
Summary: "Harold," she began, her voice cold and distant, "I...I think we should stop seeing each other."
Prompt(s): "I think we should break up" @ ha_prompts
Word Count: 235
A/N: So...Harold/Rhonda has always appealed to me. xD Edit: Fixed the age thing because I suddenly remembered that Harold is older than the rest of them. xD

Harold was loud and obnoxious and, she had to admit, rather annoying. He whined when he didn't get his way, despite the fact that he was a twenty-year-old man (not that you'd know it from the way he acted).

So maybe it was his silence that worried Rhonda when she said what she had to say.

"Harold," she began, her voice cold and distant (she'd perfected this tone over the years), "I...I think we should stop seeing each other."

He didn't respond. Why didn't he respond?

He was supposed to yell, to make a fuss--dammit, he was supposed to get angry! Harold, for all his faults, was never one to take things lying down. (Rhonda often thought that he would never learn to keep his big mouth shut.) So why didn't he protest? Why didn't he say something?

Why wouldn't he even look at her?

It seemed like forever before he responded, "If that's the way you feel."

He sounded so defeated, so very...un-Harold that her throat constricted with guilt. Was she that cruel of a person? She felt the overwhelming need to apologize, to say that she hadn't meant for things to turn out this way (hell, she hadn't even meant for things to start), to tell him that he was probably better off without her, anyway.

But all she could say was, "It is," before leaving him there at the bus stop.

Selfish: [Mugen/Fuu]

Sun, 18 Feb 2007 09:01:32 GMT

Title: Selfish
Author: heron_advocate
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Mugen/Fuu
Character(s): Mugen, mentions of Fuu
Summary: Maybe he was selfish.
Word Count: 188
A/N: Um...my first Champloo fic, so be gentle. I kind of feel like canon!Mugen would bitchslap me for writing this about him. It's kind of...sappy, I guess you could say. I've always thought that Mugen had a very large----inferiority complex, but he covers it up with all the toughness. Or maybe I'm just looking into things too much. xD Oh well, I hope you like it. xD

Surely a girl like her would not think about doing any of the things girls thought about doing with men (whatever those were) with a man like him.

It was just as well, because it certainly wouldn't do her any good.

And even if she wanted to, he wouldn't let her. He would tell her that she was too ugly or too young or too stupid or one of those other excuses he made to keep himself from doing something he might regret.

But he liked having her around, even if he knew it wasn't good for her.

Because maybe he liked the way she looked. Maybe he liked that she was able to eat ten times her own bodyweight. Maybe he liked that face she made when he stole her dango.

Maybe he liked that she trusted him.

The decent part of him (was there any decency left in him? he would like to think so) told him that he should break that trust somehow--better for her to learn a lesson now than to be ruined later.

But he didn't. He wouldn't.

Because he was selfish.

Worth the Effort: [Harold/Patty]

Fri, 16 Feb 2007 21:31:56 GMT

Title: Worth the Effort
Author: heron_advocate
Rating: G
Pairing(s): Harold/Patty
Character(s): Harold Berman, Patty Smith
Summary: Harold Berman was rather clumsy.
Prompt(s): "spilling wine on your date" @ ha_prompts
Word Count: 215
A/N: I've always thought that the Harold/Patty episode was really cute. I like Harold/Rhonda, too, actually, but this just sort of jumped out at me. :3

Harold Berman had spilled lots of things on lots of people.

Lots of girls, as it so happened. It wasn't that he did it on purpose--it was just that his usual nervousness while on a date, on top of his natural clumsiness...well, it usually spelled disaster for Harold Berman.

Most of them stormed out, or cried, or just glared as if they'd like nothing better than to thwap him. And some of them--the worst, in his opinion--shouted that they would never be able to get red wine out of their favorite dress, sometimes accompanied by a slap (which Harold didn't think was very fair). Did they think he was trying to ruin their favorite dresses?

And of course, these reactions just made him more nervous, and he usually ended up embarrassing the girl in question to the point that she wouldn't even speak to him for quite some time.

Harold was pleased to discover that Patty was different.

She didn't shout, or tell him that he was an idiot, or make him feel worthless, like the other girls did. Instead, when he started to clean up, she bent down next to him and said, "Here, let me help."

Harold figured that maybe some girls were worth the effort.

What Are Sisters For?: [Olga & Helga]

Wed, 07 Feb 2007 07:08:29 GMT

Title: What Are Sisters For?
Author: heron_advocate
Rating: G
Pairing(s): None.
Character(s): Helga Pataki, Olga Pataki, Arnold
Summary: Helga hated it when Olga was around. Really.
Prompt(s): "cheer me on"
Word Count: 282
A/N: Written for ha_prompts.

I'm an idiot, Helga thought.

She could never understand quite how her mind worked. Why, she asked herself, was she currently starting out into the audience from backstage, hoping to see Big Bob and Miriam in the audience?

It wasn't as though she cared if they came.

Besides, Miriam would probably fall asleep and Big Bob would probably just check his watch every five seconds, she told herself. The two of them not being there was a good thing.

Really.

Arnold suddenly appeared next to her, peeking out of the curtain, as well. Helga spotted Gerald in the front row, giving Arnold an enthusiastic thumbs-up. His grandparents occupied the two seats next to him, smiling in encouragement. Helga sighed and retreated backstage.

"Baby sister!" rang a perfect, sing-song voice. Helga was halfway through a groan when she became enveloped in Olga's (surprisingly strong) embrace.

"Isn't it wonderful? The two of us, spending time together!" she gushed, kissing Helga's cheek and leaving a lipstick mark, which Helga promptly wiped off in disgust. All she could think was, Who let her in?

Eventually (after much eye-rolling on Helga's part) she left, and after a moment Helga peeked out of the curtain again, watching as Olga took a seat in the third row.

Just before it was time to go on stage, she noticed that Arnold was looking at her strangely. It took her a moment to realize that he was staring because she'd been smiling the entire time. She hurried to correct the behavior, pasting on her trademark scowl.

"What're you looking at, Football Head?"

Arnold just sighed and shrugged in response. He should've known that any good mood of Helga's would be short-lived.

Little Things: [Helga + Phoebe]

Wed, 24 Jan 2007 04:57:24 GMT

Title: Little Things
Author: heron_advocate / trevorskeeper
Rating: G
Pairing(s): implied!Arnold/Helga
Character(s): Helga Pataki, Phoebe Heyerdahl
Summary: Phoebe will never let go.
Prompt(s): "hold on"
Word Count: 162
A/N: Wrote this for ha_prompts :3

Phoebe couldn't pinpoint the exact moment that Helga had begun to slip away from her.

Perhaps, she thought, it was when Arnold left, and Helga's hope along with it. Not that Helga had ever come across as a hopeful person, really, but at least she'd cared about things back then. Now she just sort of stared vacantly at everything, as if she were watching her life from the outside.

"Here, Helga," Phoebe said, placing the only butterscotch pudding she'd been able to snag onto Helga's tray as she say down at their usual table. "You can have my pudding."

Helga smiled faintly in response. So faintly, in fact, that most people probably wouldn't have known that she was smiling at all. But Phoebe knew. And she liked to think that the smile was a grateful one.

Phoebe couldn't pinpoint the exact moment that Helga had begun to slip away from her, but she was sure that she would never let her go.

=+=+=+=

owari.

Monsters: [Tatsuki/Orihime]

Mon, 22 Jan 2007 06:03:30 GMT

Title: Monsters
Author: heron_advocate
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Tatsuki/Orihime
Character(s): Arisawa Tatsuki, Inoue Orihime
Summary: The world was made up of monsters.
Prompt(s): 081, "monster" for 100_situations
Word Count: 396

The world was made up of monsters. And they weren't the sort that Orihime fought against, either.

What Orihime didn't understand, or so Tatsuki thought, was that people could be the biggest, ugliest monsters of all.

She could never believe that someone would want to hurt her. Orihime had probably been hurt more than most people - and yet, miraculously, she still saw the best in everyone. Tatsuki didn't understand it.

Orihime thought that boys who treated her specially were "nice," never once giving thought to the notion that they might have ulterior motives. Of course, a growl and an intimidating gesture from Tatsuki was usually enough to put any ideas said boys might be having about Orihime to rest.

Sometimes, Tatsuki wanted to shake Orihime until she understood that the world was not a perfect place. She wanted to say, "Why are you so blind, Orihime?" Then, she would remind herself that it was precisely this innocence which caused her to love Orihime so much in the first place.

And it was because she loved Orihime so much that she never questioned the way Orihime's mind worked. It made her happy, and that was all that mattered.

But then Orihime had come to her, saying that she would be taking part in some battle that she might never return from. Tatsuki would have insisted to go along, but the look in Orihime's eyes told her that it might only break her heart further if she did, so she refrained.

She decided that she had to know, and she wanted to hear it from Orihime's own lips. Tatsuki posed the question, the one she had always wondered about but had never asked, for fear of disturbing the perfect harmony of their relationship.

Orihime tilted her head, looking at Tatsuki in what seemed to be earnest confusion. After a while, she said, "But that's why we go so well together, Tatsuki-chan!" Tatsuki opened her mouth to ask what Orihime meant, but she was already carrying on.

"You'll always be around to remind me that people can be dangerous," Orihime stated, smiling, "and I'll always be around to remind you that people can be wonderful!"

Tatsuki smiled in response. Orihime's good humor had always been contagious.

Even though she couldn't help but smile because of Orihime, a depressing thought suddenly filled her head.

But what if you're not?

Testing the Limit: [Tom/Ginny]

Sun, 07 Jan 2007 00:51:28 GMT

Title: Testing the Limit
Author: heron_advocate / trevorskeeper
Rating: PG-13 for dubcon and darkish stuff
Pairing(s): Tom/Ginny
Character(s): Tom Riddle, Ginny Weasley
Summary: He knew her limit.
Prompt(s): 034 "limit" for lions_serpents
Word Count: 989
A/N: Originally written for hprare_exchange here. It was for sapphocles, but s/he dropped out. Oh well. Enjoy it anyway.

By all outward appearances, Ginny Weasley had only become stronger with age. It took time, but the farther away her first year became, the easier it was to forget her weakness, her insecurity. She was actually quite proud of herself; she seemed to be doing so well, in fact, that her family was convinced that she hadn't come out worse for wear and seemed to have quite forgotten about it. She was stronger now than she'd been then, she was sure of it. And certainly less naive.

But the moment she encountered him again, it seemed as though the five long years she'd spent building her resolve had been all for naught. She could feel the walls that had taken so much time and effort to construct being torn down in an instant. So much work, so much mental and emotional conditioning--all wasted.

And because of what? Him?

"Ginny," he whispered. The way her name rolled off his tongue made her shudder. (Whether in fear or anticipation, she wasn't sure.) How was it that something so simple could inspire such a strong reaction from her? How was it that he looked just as she remembered him, despite it having been more than five years now?

She clenched her teeth in frustration; she wasn't going to give in that easily.

"My, my, the years have been kind."

I'm imagining this, it can't be real, it's not happening, she thought, closing her eyes, as if that would make it so.

As it turned out, it didn't make much of a difference. She could still see him smirking coldly, despite the fact that her eyes were squeezed shut. Damn him, she thought, feeling the familiar build-up of tears behind her eyes. She willed herself to keep them from falling; she wasn't eleven years old anymore. She could handle this. He didn't control her anymore.

No, said a part of her, the strong part of her. I'm not weak. All these years...it hasn't been a waste of time. I can resist. I know I can. She steeled herself against him as best she could, awaiting the inevitable.

"You don't have power over me anymore," she said, in as even a voice as she could muster, still not daring to open her eyes.

A low chuckle was his only response. She bit down on her lip, hard, trying to prevent herself from lashing out at him. She hated how he could do that to her--elicit whatever response he wanted.

There was silence for a long, agonizing period of time. She thought of opening her eyes several times, but each time, she decided against it. If they stayed closed, she could convince herself that everything was alright.

After it had been about five minutes (or so she guessed), she let out a sigh of relief. She felt her body relax; she hadn't even realized how very tense she'd been until now. She was right before; she was only imagining things. It certainly hadn't been the first time.

He laid a finger on her cheek, gently. So gently, in fact, that she couldn't be quite sure if he was touching her at all. But it was enough to cause her body snap back to attention and her breathing to become rather irregular. Ginny cursed under her breath, angry at herself for responding.

"It would seem that you are wrong, Ginevra."

A choked sob escaped from her throat. Dammit, she thought, unable to prevent the tear from rolling down her cheek. She opened her eyes, finally, to see him staring back at her, frowning in a seemingly concerned manner. But she knew better than that. She met his gaze with a steely glare.

He cupped her cheek in his hand and brushed the lone tear away gently; it was almost painful. She smiled bitterly, amused by her own thoughts.

"You have missed me."

"No, I haven't. I hate you."

"I don't think so," he responded, completely unfazed by the venom she thought had reflected in her voice (or maybe it had sounded a lot weaker than she'd meant for it to).

How do you know? she wanted to scream, but she refrained. You think you know me better than I know myself?

As much as she hated the idea, she realized that it was probably true. But she was going to do everything in her power to prevent him from knowing it.

"I've changed."

"I don't think so," he repeated. The utter calmness of his tone made her clench her teeth in frustration. "Though your outside may have changed, you're still a scared little girl."

"I am not," she said forcefully, removing his hand from her cheek. "You know nothing about me. I'm not as stupid as I once was."

"Dear Ginny, you were never stupid," he said, boldly placing his palm on her throat. She gave him a hard stare in response, but he pretended not to notice. "You were merely lonely. There is no soul easier to manipulate than a lonely one."

So loneliness turned people into idiots. Or perhaps raving, murderous lunatics. She wasn't sure which she preferred.

"You are beautiful, Ginny."

"Shut up." She knew that she was done for, but somehow, keeping up the facade of resistance was making her feel much better about herself. She had a limit, and he knew it. He'd always known her better than anyone. Even now, after so long...

Her stomach was beginning to twist painfully; she wasn't sure if she felt sick or excited. Maybe a bit of both. The sensation of his fingers trailing down her shoulder was making her shudder again and she wasn't sure how much longer she could hold out.

When she finally gave in, she didn't cry, she didn't protest, she didn't regret; she was simply proud of the fact that, even if she had surrendered, at least she'd been able to extend her limit a little more.

---owari---

Kon's Ultimate Fantasy: [Matsumoto/Orihime]

Wed, 06 Dec 2006 10:19:47 GMT

Title: Kon's Ultimate Fantasy
Author: heron_advocate / trevorskeeper
Rating: PG-13 for innocent naked contact and girl-kissing
Pairing(s): Matsumoto Rangiku/Inoue Orihime
Character(s): Matsumoto Rangiku, Inoue Orihime, Kon reference
Summary: While seeking to cheer Orihime up, Rangiku ends up trying to teach the girl a thing or two.
Prompt(s): 040, "kiss" for 100_situations
Word Count: 1501
A/N: For chzbrgr_of_doom @ bleach_yurithon. Request is here. Thanks so very much to annwyd for helping me out with this!

===

Orihime was being awfully quiet today.

Rangiku might not have known the girl all that well, but she could tell that something was amiss. She prided herself on being perceptive about these types of things, after all.

"Orihime?" she asked casually, when they entered the girl's apartment.

"Mmm?" she responded.

"Is everything alright?"

Orihime broke her pensive expression rather abruptly, giving Rangiku the impression that she was trying to cover something up. And failing rather miserably, at that.

"Has this got anything to do with Ichigo?" she pressed bluntly, giving the girl a sympathetic look. Orihime's eyes widened with shock, but Rangiku seemed to take no notice as she shrugged out of the fashionable coat she was wearing and proceeded to hang it on the rack.

"What makes you say that?" Orihime said after a moment, smiling nervously and waving her arm in the air in an innocent gesture. Rangiku cocked an eyebrow at her all-too-obvious attempt to conceal her feelings.

"Just a hunch," she responded, a bit of sarcasm finding its way into her voice. Honestly, the Kurosaki-dolt was probably the only person on Earth not aware of Orihime's feelings.

"Well...not exactly..." she said, eyes downcast.

Rangiku smiled, glad to be making some progress. "You shouldn't fret over men," she said, nodding her head sagely. "Nothing but trouble. Say," she began, a thought striking her. "Have you got any sake?"

"Sake?" Orihime repeated, blinking confusedly. "Um...I don't think so, Rangiku-san. I'm sorry..."

"Don't worry about it. I always bring some along, just in case," she responded, winking at Orihime. She grinned right back, bouncing her way into the kitchen.

"And let's have some soup while we're at it!" Orihime suggested brightly, beginning to pull all manner of things out of the cabinets. Rangiku eyed the potential ingredients warily and replied, "Maybe later. How about a nice, hot bath instead? I know that I could sure use one."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, Rangiku-san! Let's bathe together!"

===

The sound of light giggling filled the steamy air of Orihime's rather large bathroom.

Rangiku was leaning against one edge of the tub, a small cup of sake in her right hand. She made a series of satisfied sounds; she hadn't experienced a bath this refreshing in a long while.

Orihime was leaning back against the other side, resting her head against the edge of the tub, her hair draping down over the side. A blush played across her cheeks and she was giggling so hard that the entire bathtub seemed to be shaking with the force of her merriment.

Rangiku brought one of her legs up to hang over the edge of the tub, causing a bit of water to splash over the side. She smirked.

"It's true, you know. The tougher they act, the more they're compensating for. I bet that Sado is packing, though."

"Rangiku-san!" Orihime exclaimed in shock, half-serious and half-kidding, now beginning to laugh outright.

"I guess I can see why you like him," she continued. "He's a good kid." Orihime smiled. "Dumb as a brick, though," she added, downing the rest of her sake and pouring herself another.

"What do you mean?"

Rangiku rolled her eyes. "Well, for one thing, he's terrible at picking up signals."

"Signals?" Orihime repeated curiously, tilting her head.

"You know...signs that someone fancies him."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Rangiku said, taking another sip of her sake, "Any girl after him would definitely have to be willing to make the first move, because he sure ain't gonna."

"Oh," Orihime responded again, looking pensive. She sipped her sake quietly for a moment. Rangiku closed her eyes and sighed contentedly, letting herself be absorbed in the warmth of the bath (and the sake--it was rather good sake, after all) while Orihime gathered her thoughts.

"Rangiku-san?" came Orihime's girly voice, interrupting her indulgence.

"Mmm?" she responded, opening one eye to look at her.

"What would a girl have to do in order to..."make the first move"?"

Rangiku cocked an eyebrow, sitting up a little straighter and focusing her attention on Orihime. Was she serious? "Well, a good kiss isn't a bad place to start."

"Really?" Orihime replied, looking somewhat disappointed. Geez, didn't the girl want to kiss Ichigo?

"What's the matter?"

"I haven't ever kissed anyone before," Orihime responded. "Well, not really, I mean. I kiss Tatsuki-chan all the time, but not the kind of--"

"You might want to keep that to yourself," Rangiku interrupted. "But a pretty girl like you, never been kissed? How surprising. Don't worry, it's not very difficult, even for a first-timer. Besides, I doubt Ichigo's ever been kissed, so he won't even know the difference."

Orihime fell silent again. She looked positively miserable, which was pretty strange for her, Rangiku thought. Wasn't she happy that Ichigo had never been kissed before? "Hey, I know what," she said in a cheery tone. "How about I teach you everything I know? Then maybe you won't worry about it so much."

"Would you?" Orihime responded, sounding very excited. "You seem like you know a lot!"

Rangiku decided not to comment on how that way of phrasing things could come across. After all, she knew that Orihime hadn't meant it that way. Instead, she sat up straight, sliding over so that she was sitting right next to Orihime.

"First and foremost," she began, sounding a bit like an academy instructor, "You need to make sure that your breath is fresh. Do you carry mints?"

"All the time!" Orihime chirped. "They taste like fish!"

"You...might want to try a different flavor," Rangiku said, not wanting to hurt the girl's feelings. "Perhaps something a bit more...minty."

Orihime nodded excitedly. Rangiku had no trouble telling that the girl was taking this all to heart, so she struggled to give good advice.

"Next, make sure your lips are soft. A little bit of lip gloss every now and then should do the trick, but," she paused, taking Orihime's chin in her hand and inspecting her lips closely, "you probably don't even need it. Never make them too wet, though. If it's a good kiss, you'll be getting plenty of that," she said, winking.

"Alright, let's see what you've got."

Orihime nodded and barely paused for a moment before charging at Rangiku, smashing her lips against the older woman's. Rangiku opened her mouth to say that she was going about it all wrong, but as soon as she did so, Orihime's tongue shot eagerly into her open mouth, exploring for a few moments before Rangiku pulled away, quite out of breath.

"What was that?"

"A...kiss?"

"I'll say," Rangiku responded, wiping her soaked lips with her right arm. "You might not want to come on so strong when you try it with Ichigo," she advised, unfazed (for the most part). After all, it wasn't the first time that someone had jumped on her like that. And she hoped it wouldn't be the last.

"Start out gentle," Rangiku said softly, leaning forward to place a barely-there kiss on Orihime's lips. "Like that."

Orihime touched her lips with her middle and forefingers, as if remembering the sensation. "I'll definitely remember that, Rangiku-san!" she said happily, sauntering over to pour herself more sake. "This is really good," Orihime said in a dreamy tone, grinning at her.

Rangiku raised an eyebrow when she put one hand under each of her breasts, alternating between lifting her left and right and inspecting them rather closely.

"Do you think one really is bigger than the other? This one feels like it weighs a bit more, but I'm not sure..."

"How much sake have you had, Orihime?"

"Not much, Rangiku-san! Only...erm..." Orihime paused as if thinking, hands still under her breasts. "I guess I forgot," she said after a while, giggling.

Rangiku sighed. She should have known that Orihime wouldn't be able to hold her alcohol very well. No sooner had she thought it than Orihime paused mid-giggle and promptly lost her lunch over the side of the tub.

"Oh...I don't feel so well..."

"Yeah, no kidding. Well, let's get you cleaned up."

===

A short time later, Orihime was snuggling into the warmth of her favorite blanket, lying on her living room sofa.

"Feel better?" Rangiku asked, sitting down on the edge of the sofa and placing her hand on Orihime's forehead. She wasn't really sure why, it just seemed like the appropriate thing to do.

Orihime nodded tiredly. She was finding it more difficult by the second to keep her eyes open.

"I just need to sleep, that's all. I suppose maybe the Sandman is working overtime..." she said vaguely, eyes drifting closed as she gave into unconsciousness.

Rangiku smiled and shook her head. There were so many things about Orihime that were easy to figure out, yet so many more that she was sure she'd never be able to fully understand.

===

Back at Ichigo's house, a thick stream of blood began to gush from Kon's nose, despite the fact that he was sound asleep.

===

owari.

A Little Dirty: [Neville/Ginny]

Sat, 02 Dec 2006 09:46:45 GMT

Title: A Little Dirty
Author: heron_advocate / trevorskeeper
Rating: G
Pairing(s): Neville/Ginny, borderline gen
Character(s): Six-year-old!Neville Longbottom, Five-year-old!Ginny Weasley, Gran Longbottom, Molly Weasley
Summary: Neville to the rescue!
Prompt(s): 367, 'intrigue,' for hpfanfic10x10
Word Count: 1301
A/N: Did I make Gran Longbottom too mean? I might have. I'm afraid of doing that sometimes, so don't be afraid to say if you think I did. Essentially, I think I can pretty much sum up what made me think of this fic in one sentence: Neville is the Chuckie to Ginny's Tommy. Sometimes my thought processes ~~scare~~ ~~disturb~~ amaze even me. I read it over, but, as always, it lacks beta.

It wasn't often that Neville Longbottom had visitors of his own age. The Longbottom mansion was a huge, empty house, devoid of any children besides himself--well, most of the time, anyway. But today was a special day for little six-year-old Neville. He was going to have visitors--playmates, even!

He didn't know the Weasleys very well, but he'd met them before. His favorite part about them was that there were just so many of them. With a family like that, Neville figured, you would never be bored or lonely. He overheard his Gran mumbling that they lived in a house much too small for their size, and Neville wondered why they couldn't move into his house. There was plenty of room, after all, and he reckoned that maybe he wouldn't jump at every little sound at night if there were someone fast asleep in the room right next to his.

Maybe then his Gran would stop saying that he needed to grow some backbone.

===

When the Weasleys finally arrived, it came as no surprise to Neville that his Gran forbade him from playing Quidditch with the older boys (never mind Ron was only a few months older). He saw her whisper something to the mum, and he reddened with the knowledge that his Gran was probably telling the lady that they thought he might be a Squib.

Mrs. Weasley, who was currently engaged in trying to stop the little girl whose hand she was holding from running after her brothers, laughed nervously and said that the little girl wasn't allowed to play Quidditch with the boys, either. Ginny, she said, was her name. And apparently Ginny was always into some mischief or other, or so said her mum, so she couldn't let her out of her sight for very long, lest one of her brothers turn up crying for some unknown reason again.

So he was stuck with the little girl. He didn't mind much, though. Any company was good company, in his opinion.

As soon as their guardians were thoroughly distracted by conversation, Ginny tugged her hand free of her mother's grip. She walked over to him, circling him a few times as if inspecting him (something like a hawk, he thought). "You'll do," she said, as if the whole world had been standing still in anticipation of her assessment.

And before he knew it, he was being tugged all over his own front yard, despite the fact that she was much smaller in comparison. He stumbled along after her, trying his best not to fall over and damage his brand new outfit.

Ginny was so energetic and talkative that he found himself unable to keep up with either her feet or her speech, and after a while just gave up on it altogether, opting instead to listen for key words or the times that she would pause for a moment, waiting for a response.

She seemed so utterly intrigued by virtually everything in the yard that Neville would scarcely have time to answer her questions before she was dragging him off again.

When they reached the section of his Gran's garden that he knew was off-limits, though, he put his foot down (or feet, as it turned out he needed to plant both firmly in the ground before she stopped). "We're not allowed in there," he said quietly, and he was quite proud of the fact that his voice didn't waver at all.

Ginny, however, seemed to be having none of this. Releasing his left arm (she'd been using it to drag him along this whole time), she put her hands on her hips and said, "Oh, come on, grown-ups only want to keep us out of things because they don't want us to have fun." It sounded like a plausible enough argument to Neville--after all, it seemed to him that whenever he was having fun (real fun, the kind that makes you spend your days plotting how to have it again), a grown-up always ruined it.

Still, he reasoned, he'd much rather be bored than have his Gran angry at him again.

"Let's go back," he insisted, though even as he spoke, she was attempting to climb over the small fence that surrounded the garden. To his chagrin, there didn't seem to be any wards keeping her out, and before long, she had succeeded in making it over the fence (and also in ripping her skirt).

She began tottering about, making excited noises whenever she found something that she deemed "pretty." Neville hesitated. On one hand, he could follow her and attempt to bring her back out. On the other hand, was it really his fault if she got herself into trouble? He'd tried to stop her, after all. Sighing, he decided that he'd get into trouble, regardless, and began trying to make his way over the fence.

When he had finally made it to the top, Ginny squealed with fright, and Neville promptly tumbled the rest of the way over, hitting the ground rather harshly.

He looked up, noting that she didn't appear to be injured at all, and wondering if she were only trying to trick him. (Little girls did those sorts of things. He knew from experience.) Then she squealed again, apparently tripping over something, and Neville rushed over to see what the matter was.

Nothing appeared to be wrong, at least not at first. But upon more careful inspection, he noticed that a vine had wrapped its way up one of her legs. Ginny was trying (to absolutely no avail) to pull it off, but it only seemed to tighten its grip, judging by the pained sounds she was making.

Neville froze momentarily, realizing with a tight throat that he had absolutely no idea what to do. If he went any closer, the plant might get him, too. But he couldn't just leave her, either.

What would Dad have done? he thought, closing his eyes in concentration. Then a picture swam in front of his eyes; his Gran, stepping on the plant harshly the very day she had received it. The plant had immediately retracted, its vines slipping back into the basket that contained it. Neville felt himself tense--he knew what he had to do.

Trying to remember which particular spot she had stepped on that time, he made his way towards Ginny, careful not to be caught by the vines himself. She was crying now, still attempting to tug herself free of the vines. She looked at him pleadingly; Neville felt his chest swell with an unfamiliar emotion.

He repeated the scene in his head as best he could, kicking the plant square in the center (which was rather difficult to reach, as it was a good three feet from where Ginny was on the ground) with as much force as he could muster. To his utter relief, he felt the vines begin to whip by his legs, returning to their place of origin. He helped Ginny from the ground, and together they ran toward the fence.

Ginny required a little help to make it over, as her leg seemed to be still recovering, but eventually, they both made it.

"Please don't tell mum," she said, wiping at her face with her sleeves. He nodded silently and she smiled at him in response. Neville thought his heart might burst with pride.

===

When they finally made it back to the house, Neville's sweaty hand gripping Ginny's shaky one, Mrs. Weasley commented on how oddly subdued Ginny was acting. Gran commented on the disheveled and filthy state of Neville's new outfit.

Neville received the criticism without response, thinking that maybe he wasn't really a failure, and maybe his dad would've been proud, even if his shirt was a little dirty.

===

owari.

More Than It Should: [Seamus/Hermione]

Mon, 20 Nov 2006 03:31:52 GMT

Title: More Than It Should
Author: heron_advocate / trevorskeeper
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Seamus/Hermione; but really, it's borderline gen.
Character(s): Seamus Finnigan, Hermione Granger, brief Nott and McGonagall cameos
Summary: It wasn't as though his opinion should matter to her, anyway.
Word Count: 1165
A/N: For unperfectwolf at the half_and_half ficathon. Request is here. I imagine that this fic is set during either fifth or sixth year (it's fifth, in my mind). Many thanks to kaalee for being so patient with me! ♥ Hope you like it!

Hermione forced herself to focus on the parchment in front of her, trying very hard to concentrate on her notes rather than the conversation that was taking place right behind her.

"You're daft, Finnigan, I'm telling you," Theodore Nott was saying in a rather condescending tone. "Ballycastle? They haven't got a chance this year."

Seamus's face had been reddening for several minutes, but now it looked as though he would pop at any moment. Which had been Nott's objective all along, really. It wasn't his fault that Seamus was too thick to realize it.

"And I'm telling you," Seamus began, speaking quite deliberately, and sounding as if he wanted nothing more than to throttle Terry on the spot; Hermione imagined that his face was probably twitching with annoyance. "They're much better this year. A new keeper, two new chasers, and a new seeker? You can't judge them on how they did last year!"

Hermione felt what little patience she had left withering away under her annoyance and inability to concentrate. They just went on and on--how was it possible to argue for so long over something so trivial? And how was it that Professor McGonagall didn't notice?

When the tip of her quill snapped because she was pressing down hard enough to rip the parchment, so did her patience.

"Would you two be quiet?" she said forcefully, perhaps a bit more loudly than she'd meant to; or more like a great deal more loudly than she'd meant to.

"Miss Granger?" came McGonagall's stern voice. Hermione knew that Professor McGonagall was in no mood today; she'd already taken fifty points from Lavender Brown for passing a note.

Oh no. No, no, no...

"I'm surprised, I must say. A detention for your outburst, I think."

When Seamus snickered, she added, "You too, Mister Finnigan," and Hermione couldn't help but feel a little self-satisfied at the look of shock on his face.

===

"I don't know what you're complaining about," Seamus said, as he tugged another one of the little creatures out of the ground, "this isn't so bad." In fact, if he ever had a choice about who to serve detention with, he would've chosen Professor Sprout every time. Her method involved giving a task and then leaving; she didn't hover over you every moment, unlike some professors.

"Speak for yourself," Hermione responded, wincing as one of them took a bite out of her finger. Again. They weren't very big--only about the size of a finger, actually, though a little longer--but their teeth could apparently penetrate even the thick, dragon-skin gloves she was wearing.

Seamus cast a sideways glance at her, noting the way that she was nursing her middle finger. "Maybe if you didn't yank them so harshly..."

Hermione only glared in response, looking as though she'd like nothing more than to 'yank' him rather 'harshly,' so Seamus promptly shut his mouth and turned away from her, shrugging.

"Be careful!" she barked, as he tossed one into the basket from a good fifteen metres. Now she was telling him to be careful? After she'd essentially ripped up half of the garden?

"It's not going to hurt 'em," he responded, quite proud of the fact that the little bugger had actually made it into the basket. Not that she'd seemed to notice his amazing feat at all. He huffed, somewhat affronted, and went back to work, pausing every now and then to childishly imitate her.

Unfortunately, Hermione caught him in the act before he could change his expression, and now she was shooting him violent looks every few minutes, obviously trying to scare him. As if he was intimidated by her. But he scooted a little farther away from her, just to be safe. (You just never knew with girls.)

"Why d'you have to be such a grouch?" he muttered, not looking up from his work, and certainly not expecting her to respond.

"I am not a grouch."

"Fine," he responded, noting with some relief that they only had one more row left. "Why are you so high-strung, then?" Hermione simply humphed, though Seamus thought he saw her cheeks redden a little out of the corner of his eye.

And apparently he was feeling quite masochistic today, because then he said, "Maybe you just need to be thoroughly snogged or something." He still didn't look up, not thinking that he'd said anything that she would find particularly offensive.

Of course, now Hermione was kneeling just next to him, having worked her way down from the other end of the row. "For your information, I--" she began quite angrily, but stopped herself (for some reason he couldn't figure out).

"Not that it's any of your business," she muttered under her breath, reaching for the last one at the very same time that he did. Their hands brushed briefly and Hermione jerked her hand back, as if the brief contact had burned her.

Seamus cocked an eyebrow, studying her for a moment before shrugging and tossing the last of the little creatures into the basket and sealing it with his wand. It was probably just some weird girl thing that he would never figure out. And he wasn't about to waste his time trying to.

"Let's go in, it's getting dark," he suggested. Hermione nodded, following behind him in an oddly quiet manner. They walked up to the castle in silence, for the most part. When they reached the Entrance Hall, however, Hermione spoke up.

"Do...does everyone...I mean, is that how everyone thinks of me?"

Seamus, surprised by the sudden attempt at conversation, stopped walking abruptly, nearly causing Hermione to go crashing into his back. He turned to face her.

"How?" he asked, not quite sure what she meant.

"You know...'high-strung'?"

Oh. That. Why was she asking him this? Him, of all people? Shouldn't she be asking Harry or Ron or Ron's sister or...well, someone other than him? His opinion didn't strike Seamus as something that should particularly matter to her, anyway.

"Well...aren't you?"

"No! Well...perhaps a bit. But it's only because I'm concerned about my future, which is more than I can say for some people," she said, almost indignantly, and Seamus found himself still wondering why it mattered so much to her. He sighed.

"I don't see that it matters."

There was a moment of silence, during which he supposed that she was thinking his words over.

"I...suppose it doesn't," she responded, in a hesitant, quite un-Hermione-like tone.

"I'm sure there are plenty of girls who look up to you and plenty of blokes who find you quite snoggable," he added, quite certain that he would be receiving a smack (or perhaps just an icy glare) for that one.

He was quite surprised when she didn't hit or glare at him, but rather smiled appreciatively (a small one, but a smile nonetheless). She resumed walking down the corridor, leaving Seamus staring somewhat bewilderedly after her for a few moments before following suit.

Girls.

===

end.

Rain: [Snape/Lily, James/Lily]

Tue, 14 Nov 2006 04:44:40 GMT

Title: Rain
Author: heron_advocate / trevorskeeper
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): James/Lily, Severus/Lily
Character(s): James Potter, Lily Evans Potter, Severus Snape
Summary: Random Marauder-era Snape, James, & Lily drabble.
Prompt(s): 'rain'
Word Count: 180
A/N: For randomneses. Happy birthday, doll!

James likes the rain.

It makes his hair cling to his face in what might seem like an annoying manner, but he thinks it makes him look rather dashing. He's able to lay his cloak over the puddles that form, and all the girls talk about how sweet he is while Sirius rolls his eyes.

And even Evans begrudgingly admits that it might be just a little bit considerate of him.

---

Snape hates the rain. It's probably odd to most, he thinks, because the rain would seem to reflect his personality or his mood, or some other poetic-sounding bullshit.

When it rains, people crowd the corridors, the Common Room, the Great Hall, the library--just about every space in the school, it seems. It's more difficult for him to retreat into his desired solitude, to escape from the annoying idiocy of his peers.

And much harder to avoid that cheeky redhead, especially.

---

Lily's favorite days are the ones when the weather is completely unpredictable, and she thinks that she must be the only one who actually enjoys them.

Learning to Let Go: [Obito/Rin, Kakashi/Rin]

Sun, 15 Oct 2006 06:19:12 GMT

Title: Learning to Let Go
Author: heron_advocate / trevorskeeper
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Obito/Rin, Kakashi/Rin
Character(s): Uchiha Obito, Hatake Kakashi, Rin
Summary: Rin receives some help with moving on.
Prompt(s): 095, "I'll be there for you," from 100 themes
Word Count: 781
A/N: Keeping in mind that this might not be entirely logical within the timeframe of Naruto...I'm going to say that this is set 5-10 years after Kakashi Gaiden. Slightly...er...twisted, I guess. Some fairly vague smut and some...weirdness.

To say that she was shocked would have been a huge understatement. If there was one thing she hadn't expected, it had been to see Obito sitting on her bed when she returned home from the mission.

Rin rubbed her eyes, sure that her mind was deceiving her. She thought she'd been doing so well. She hadn't seen him the entire time she'd been on the mission--not that she'd had much time to think about it. She was thankful for it, though...oftentimes, her mind was her own worst enemy.

She reached out to touch him; that usually made the illusion disappear. But this time, her hand met with solid flesh. She jerked her hand back, as if burned, trying to make herself think straight. This wasn't possible. But he was sitting right in front of her, half-smirking, half-scowling, just like always. His trademark goggles rested atop his head, tilted slightly, giving him a bit of an innocent look.

This wasn't real. Someone was playing a terrible joke on her.

"O-Obito?" she asked hesitantly.

"Hey, Rin," he said, smiling sheepishly. She retreated a few steps. "No, you're not," she mumbled, shaking her head. "I--we--couldn't save you, Obito..." She frowned, guilt overwhelming her temporarily.

"About that..." Rin stiffened.

"Rin," he began. Rin had never seen him look so serious. "You should stop..."

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you," she interrupted, tears springing to her eyes. Obito's eyes softened; he frowned.

"That's what I'm talking about," he said, scowling. "I want you to stop feeling guilty, Rin."

"But--"

"Let go, Rin."

Her tears were flowing freely now. She grabbed him roughly by the forearm. "But I don't want to!"

Obito looked at her sympathetically; her jaw clenched resolutely as she made up her mind. She leaned into him, pushing him back onto the bed as she kissed him fiercely. She wanted to get her fill of him before he left again, because she had the sneaking feeling that she wasn't going to be seeing him anymore, even in her dreams.

"Obito, Obito," she mumbled as she kissed him over and over again, lips already wet from her tears. "You're here, you're here...I can't believe you're here..."

She cut off then and took a ragged breath to prevent herself from breaking down. He'd never seen Rin like this. She always seemed so calm, so collected, even when she was torn up inside.

She rested her face on his chest for a while, hugging him tightly while he patted her head lovingly. Soon, she began tugging at his clothes with a sense of urgency that was very unlike her, as if she were afraid he might disappear under her fingertips. Her lips were on his again as his jacket slipped off his shoulders; she broke contact momentarily to pull his shirt over his head, but not for long.

"Rin..." he protested weakly. But now she was pulling off his pants, and then his boxers, without giving him any time to react. A couple of tugs in the right places and she was equally naked, straddling his hips gingerly. Then she was kissing him again; he gasped when her soft breasts made contact with the bare skin of his chest. His arms snaked around her and held her against him, almost against his will. His mind was telling him that this was wrong--they shouldn't be doing it like this--but the rest of him was convinced otherwise.

So he didn't try to stop her when she lowered herself onto him, though he knew he should have. She seemed so happy--more than she'd been in several years--and he couldn't bring himself to ruin it. She smiled at him the whole time, as if everything was right with the world. He felt guilty for misleading her--he couldn't stay, though she seemed to know that, too.

When her tired, sweaty body collapsed upon his, she was still smiling at him. "I don't regret it," she muttered, yawning as she nuzzled his neck. He lay there stiffly, not wanting to disturb her, and not quite sure what to do. He hadn't expected this to happen, by any means; while he wasn't entirely sure that it was fair to Rin, the fact that she seemed to be feeling better because of it consoled him. He sighed raggedly--tense, yet relieved.

She fell asleep in no time, and after a while, Kakashi felt secure enough to let the henge dispel. He skillfully slipped out from under her, making sure that she remained undisturbed. He looked down at her for a moment, hoping that he wasn't doing a pathetic job of fulfilling his promise to Obito.

Her Smile: [Ishida/Orihime]

Sun, 15 Oct 2006 02:51:56 GMT

Title: Her Smile
Author: heron_advocate / trevorskeeper
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): one-sided-ish!Ishida/Orihime
Character(s): Inoue Orihime, Ishida Uryuu
Summary: In which Ishida makes Hime feel better and vice-versa.
Prompt(s): 093, 'crisis' for 100_situations
Word Count: 326
A/N: A little IshiHime drabble I wrote for this thing. So hopefully, there could be art for it sometime... Edit: Squee! avi_via_vai drew a sketch for this drabble! ^_^

Ishida felt moisture on his cheek. Was it raining? Where was he? The last thing he remembered was being attacked, and then...Inoue!

Ishida tried to force himself into a sitting position, but for some reason, he couldn't move. He momentarily panicked. Why wouldn't his body listen to him? "Inoue..." he rasped.

As if on cue, everything around him began making sense. He heard Inoue screeching. "Why isn't it working?!"

Her hands were clenched in her lap, tugging at her skirt. She looked as though she were trying to keep herself from sobbing. "Inoue..." Ishida said again, his brow furrowing.

Orihime made a noise, as if she'd just noticed that he was awake. "Ishida-kun! How do you feel?"

He contemplated telling her the truth--that his body was aching from the overuse of his powers, not to mention the multiple wounds he was sustaining--but one look at Inoue's tear-stained face, and he couldn't bring himself to do it. She seemed worried sick already, and he didn't want to contribute to her pain.

So he lied.

"I think I'm alright," he said, trying to put as much strength behind his voice as possible. She seemed slightly placated, despite her air of sadness, but she was more worried than Ishida had ever seen her.

"I can't..." she began, but broke off when a sob robbed her of her voice.

Ishida tilted his head, looking at her curiously; even the minimal head movement made him wince a little.

"I can't heal you!" she exclaimed finally, closing her eyes to avoid making eye contact. Ishida frowned, a blush coloring his cheeks as a few more of her teardrops fell onto his face.

"Don't cry, Inoue. I'm sure that...Kurosaki needs you more than I..."

Orihime opened her eyes, still looking pained, but eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you, Ishida-kun," she said, smiling softly.

Such a warmth flooded his body at the gesture; he wondered if he was beginning to heal already.

The Hardest Thing: [Ginny Gen]

Sat, 07 Oct 2006 00:49:03 GMT

Title: The Hardest Thing
Author: heron_advocate / trevorskeeper
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): None.
Character(s): Ginny Weasley, primarily. Mentioned Harry, Ron, & Voldemort.
Summary: How Ginny Weasley learned to hate the world.
Prompt(s): None.
Word Count: 241
A/N: Ginny is...um...very bitter in this fic. Very, very bitter. She has good reason, though, I assure you.

Sometimes, you have to make those kinds of decisions that only come along once in a lifetime. Well, it didn't happen to most people at all, she reckoned, but when you were taking part in a war, the odds were significantly increased. They were those decisions that you wished you had ages to think over (but you never do), even though you'd probably end up making the same decision, anyway.

Ginny had only been given an instant to decide.

In the end, she had chosen the welfare of the world over her own; every day since, she cursed the day that she'd been born a Gryffindor.

Why had she chosen Harry?

Because it had been the right thing to do. She knew it now, as surely as she knew it then. But still, she wondered if it had been really worth it.

"You should be proud that you did the right thing," they all said. Proud...proud? She hated herself for choosing. She hated Voldemort for making her choose. She hated Harry for not being able to get himself out of a sticky situation. She hated...she hated everything.

She couldn't look at him anymore without being reminded that he was living in Ron's stead. She was probably only contributing to his guilt by acting this way--so cold and callous towards him--but she didn't care. She didn't want Harry Potter to feel good about himself. She wanted her big brother back.

Caught in the Moment: [Ron/Hermione]

Sun, 01 Oct 2006 07:23:14 GMT

Title: Caught in the Moment
Author: heron_advocate / trevorskeeper
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Ron/Hermione
Character(s): Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, mentioned Harry
Summary: Ron and Hermione are caught in a dangerous situation. Hermione needs to think of a way out of it, lest they get hurt.
Prompt(s): R/Hr, fluff
Word Count: 1002
A/N: This is for Pi (poetic_pixie_13), who requested R/Hr (sans H/G) and FLUFF. Here's my best crack. It's SUPPOSED to be funny. Whether or not it actually is remains to be seen. I know what you're thinking. "WHAT, you wrote a fic without Neville, Ginny, Luna, Parvati, or Pansy?" I KNO RITE?

I wrote this in like AN HOUR, while on a Mello Yello high. I hope it's to your satisfaction, m'dear. ♥

Hermione's foot tapped impatiently against the frozen ground. It helped to alleviate the nervous twisting of her stomach. Why Harry always insisted on worrying the pair of them like this, she would never understand. Honestly, going in alone. What was he thinking?

Of course, the logical side of her said that this was the sort of thing that was better done alone. He'd needed them for the previous Horcrux, it was true. Of course, that one hadn't been somewhere that required flying. She reluctantly admitted to herself that she and Ron would have only slowed him down, but that didn't keep her from sighing loudly in annoyance.

"Calm down, Hermione," Ron said, in a slightly exasperated tone. "He said he could handle it. And quit jiggling your leg, it's making me nervous."

He shifted next to her on the log, scooting a bit closer. She looked at him curiously and he flushed, adjusting the buttons on his coat for an excuse to avert his eyes. "'s cold," he said simply. Hermione felt her cheeks warm, but she only shrugged, fidgeting with her wand in her lap.

After several hours of sitting in the very same spot, she was becoming very restless.

He's taking too long, she thought worriedly, biting her lip in thought. Voldemort's already on to us, what if he sends...

Her thoughts were interrupted as Ron's head slumped down onto her shoulder. She almost protested, but she stopped herself. He was exhausted, just like she was. Perhaps more so, because he was always keeping extra hours looking out. He constantly insisted that he only 'forgot' to wake Hermione up for her shift, but she knew better. He may have been trying his best, but Ron was a terrible liar. Which, in retrospect, may have been what made him less-than-perfect boyfriend material.

She was annoyed by his stubbornness most times, but couldn't help smiling to herself about it during other times. He may have been a tactless git at times, but he was also sincere, and she couldn't fault him for it.

Hermione grimaced when he began to drool on her shoulder. That was her limit. Now he was going to be woken up. And rather rudely, if she had anything to do with it.

She was spared the task, however, by the nearby snapping of a twig. Ron jerked upright, as if he'd been caught sleeping during class. Hermione squinted into the darkness, hoping that her fears about being confronted weren't being realized.

She couldn't see a thing, but when another twig snapped, she was certain that they weren't alone. The cold hand of fear gripped her.

She needed to think. The pair of them, they needed to appear...less suspicious. She doubted they would be recognized, especially with the image-altering cloaks they were wearing. But two wizards, sitting outside of a place that Voldemort had no doubt told his Death Eaters to keep an eye on...

Like this, they were sitting ducks. She heard the quickening of Ron's breath, and instantly knew that he was planning to do something. She had to stop him; they had no idea what they were up against...two, ten, twenty...the circumstances were too uncertain. She tucked her wand out of sight and elbowed Ron in the ribs, indicating that he should do the same. He looked confused, but thankfully, complied without argument.

Hermione's brow furrowed. What could two teenagers, alone in the forest, do that wouldn't seem out of the ordinary? Recognizing that time was a factor, she took the first idea that came to her and put it into action.

She grabbed Ron by the collar and pulled him forcefully against her, instigating an abrupt, awkward kiss.

Ron's eyes were open, as well as Hermione's. He looked shocked, but more baffled than anything. He questioned her with his eyes, and she answered with a hard glare. "If you blow our cover, I'll kill you," her eyes said.

He seemed to get the message.

Hermione's eyes kept shooting around, as if she expected Death Eaters to fall from the trees at any moment. When they didn't (after a few solid minutes of heated snogging), she broke away suddenly, squinting out into the trees again.

Ron seemed much too befuddled to be of any help at the moment. He was grinning at her like an idiot. Hermione pursed her lips as she felt her cheeks redden. Damn him for making her lose track of her thoughts at a time like this.

A noise - much closer than the previous two - brought the pair back to their senses. Hermione stood, drawing her wand quickly. We're doomed, she thought, awaiting the inevitable. She only hoped that they'd have a chance to counter.

The noise grew closer and closer, to the point that Hermione was certain that its next move would be to step out into the clearing where she and Ron waited, wands drawn.

Her hand shook in anticipation, and a million counter-curses ran through her mind. We've got to keep them from getting to Harry... was her only thought, before...

...a large, snowy-white hare leapt out from behind a nearby tree. Hermione found herself hard-pressed to keep the curse on her tongue from slipping out. She didn't want to blow the creature into oblivion.

Ron looked at her for a short moment, before erupting into a fit of laughter. Hermione sank down onto the log, crossing her arms over her chest in annoyance. He thought this was funny? She pursed her lips and glared at him.

"Oh, Hermione," he began, apparently finding it hard to speak through his uncontrollable laughter, "If that's what's going to happen every time a little hare passes by," he paused again as a fresh wave of merriment overtook him, "maybe it's a good thing that Harry isn't with us." She flushed, imagining what Harry would have to say if he'd witnessed the scene.

Hermione humphed, trying with no avail to keep the corners of her lips from twitching upward, despite herself.

No Alternative: [Naruto/Sakura]

Sat, 30 Sep 2006 06:13:12 GMT

Title: No Alternative
Author: heron_advocate / trevorskeeper
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Naruto/Sakura, but probably more NaruSakuSasu
Character(s): Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura, mentioned Uchiha Sasuke
Summary: "We'll get him back, Sakura-chan."
Prompt(s): None.
Word Count: 150

Naruto hates to see her smile like that.

He might not've been the brightest shinobi in the village, but it was obvious to him now that she was only smiling for his benefit. It was a distant, empty smile, and he could tell from sadness behind her eyes that her heart wasn't in it.

Though he never said it aloud, there were times when he doubted himself. Especially where Sasuke was concerned. Sakura's fake smile only made his failure that much more glaring.

"We'll get him back, Sakura-chan," he mutters, in an uncharacteristically strained tone.

She smiles at him, a genuine one this time, and he feels his heart soar. He's more sure of himself than ever before.

"I know we will, Naruto." She didn't think of what might happen if they didn't. There was no alternative, in her mind. It was either fix her broken family, or die trying.

Breathless: [Draco/Parvati]

Thu, 28 Sep 2006 06:56:06 GMT

Title: Breathless
Author: heron_advocate / trevorskeeper
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Draco/Parvati, Lavender->Ron, Parvati+Lavender friendship
Character(s): Draco Malfoy, Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown
Summary: Draco takes offense to something Parvati says and feels compelled to prove her wrong.
Prompt(s): 031, 'nothing,' for lions_serpents
Word Count: 778
A/N: OotP timeline.

Lavender hummed to herself, spinning in circles around their dormitory.

"For Merlin's sake, it wasn't all that amazing," Parvati said after a while, rolling her eyes.

"I told you, didn't I?" Lavender asked excitedly, ignoring her best friend's disinterested attitude.

Parvati smiled despite herself, looking up from the magazine in front of her. "You did," she conceded, glad to see Lavender so happy, even if she was being annoying. Really, really annoying.

"Do you think he heard me cheering for him?" she continued in the same bubbly tone, eyes alight with joy.

"Of course," Parvati replied dryly, not bothering to mention the fact that she probably hadn't been heard over the other thousand students in the stadium. But there was no need to burst her bubble, not when she was in such an amiable mood.

"I bet Malfoy feels silly now," Lavender said, with an air of satisfaction. Parvati merely grunted in response, hoping that her aloofness would deter Lavender from the subject of Draco Malfoy. Unfortunately for her, Lavender was a bit sharper than she looked.

"Is something wrong?" Lavender asked curiously, pulling down the magazine so that she could make eye contact. Parvati sighed in resignation. She didn't like lying to Lavender, but there were some things you just didn't share. Even with your best friend.

---

Parvati prided herself on the fact that she didn't lose her temper often. A rare quality for a Gryffindor, she was aware. There was one subject, however, that tended to make her lose her cool, especially when she wasn't expecting it.

And, well, she certainly hadn't expected to run into Draco Malfoy in an empty corridor, and she especially hadn't expected him to condescend to speak to her.

"I can't believe that you keep such idiots for company," he said, causing her to stop in her tracks, despite the logical voice in her head that was telling her to keep moving. But she knew he was referring to Lavender, and the thought made her blood boil.

"Honestly, the Weasel? How low can her standards be?"

"If I'm not mistaken, Malfoy," she said, with as much condescension as she could muster, "You were just beaten by that 'weasel.'" She still hadn't turned around to look at him, though, judging from his stunned silence, she imagined that the look on his face was a sight.

"If that's all?" she said, not bothering to wait for an answer as she stalked off towards Gryffindor Tower.

"It's not," he said, stepping in front of her. "You shouldn't let your friend act like such an idiot," Parvati's teeth clenched, "And for what? The Weasel's attention? What a waste."

Parvati was staring daggers at him, trying very hard to keep her fist from flying into his face. To tell the truth, Ron wasn't exactly who she would've picked, but if that's who Lavender wanted, she would do whatever she could to help. Lavender was her best friend, and Parvati wanted her to be happy. Even if that meant having to endure her making those embarrassing facial expressions and odd noises whenever Ron was around.

"What's it to you?"

Draco was staring right back, and Parvati was having a hard time figuring out why he cared. Maybe he had nothing better to do. Or maybe...

"Wait a moment...do you...you don't...like Lavender, do you?" she asked, her anger quickly becoming replaced by amusement.

"What?! No!" he insisted, flushing. "To think, me, with a crush on that empty-headed..."

"Enough," she interrupted, before her temper had a chance to flare up again. "You don't have to explain yourself to me, Malfoy, I really couldn't care less."

He made a series of indignant noises, still flustered, and apparently offended that she didn't believe him. "I don't--she--"

Parvati tried to push him aside; as amusing as his speechlessness was, she didn't want to hang around here all day. Draco seemed alarmed that she was leaving; his hand shot out to grab her wrist, preventing her from going too far.

"Let me--"

Parvati wasn't able to finish her statement, because before she could react, Malfoy's lips were crashing down onto her own, and she was back-pedaling towards the wall. What is this bloody idiot doing?

She shoved him away forcefully. They looked at each other for a short, confused moment, before Draco took off down the corridor, as if running for his life. Parvati stood against the wall for a few more minutes, looking after him with a bewildered look, and feeling oddly breathless.

---

"Are you sure nothing's wrong?" Lavender asked, looking at Parvati with concern. Parvati waved off her question.

"It's nothing," she responded, smiling to herself.

Untitled Snippets: [Zacharias/Ginny]

Wed, 27 Sep 2006 22:17:06 GMT

Title: [Untitled Snippets]
Author: heron_advocate / trevorskeeper
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Zacharias/Ginny
Character(s): Zacharias Smith, Ginny Weasley
Summary: A bunch of random interactions between the pair.
Prompt(s): None.
Word Count: 269
A/N: What can I say, the DA pic inspired me.

"Why don't you just lop it off?" he asked, in that annoyingly self-important tone of his. "It would probably make it easier to play - not to have it whipping behind you and all that." He was mocking her. The arrogant bastard.

She grew it out just to spite him. And to prove that she could kick his ass at Quidditch...long hair or no.

--

She had no idea why he made her feel so damn competitive. Even snogging seemed to be a contest; they went at it hard, fast, with all the determination of warriors determined to win.

Whoever was best - the fastest at drawing appreciative moans from the other - was deemed victor. But even losing wasn't all that bad, when she thought about it.

--

"You're practically a boy," he said, wrinkling his nose at her.

She glared at him, and before thinking (it seemed like a good idea at the time), climbed on top of him, straddling his lap. He scowled when he reacted physically, as if his body had betrayed him.

"If I'm practically a boy, I reckon that makes you homosexual," she said with a smirk.

--

"Get that stuff outta my face," he said from behind her, swiping at her ponytail. She leaned back as far as she could, so that her hair was splayed over his desk.

He made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat, but did nothing. Ginny smiled to herself, feeling victorious.

It was only after class, when she tried to stand up, that she realized he'd used a Super Sticking Charm on her hair.

A Little Extra Time: [Chad/Karin]

Sun, 24 Sep 2006 07:53:49 GMT

Title: A Little Extra Time
Author: heron_advocate / trevorskeeper
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Chad/Karin
Character(s): Sado "Chad" Yasutora, Kurosaki Karin
Summary: That Chad. He was a weird one.
Prompt(s): 060, 'walk,' for 100_situations
Word Count: 692
A/N: The world needs more Chad/Karin! D: By the by, Karin's teenagerish, probably around 16, making Chad 21. I think. And just FYI, there's some naughty language. Nothing too bad. >.>

Getting angry with Chad was a hard thing to do. Well, it wasn't the getting angry part that was difficult, more the staying angry.

Karin normally had no problem staying angry, for however long she needed to release her frustrations. But, with someone who just sat there and never moved, what could she do? She could shout in his ear for five straight minutes. And nothing. He didn't even bat an eye. She could punch him in the arm as hard and as many times as she could, and still he didn't move. It was as if he were made of stone.

It might've been hard to stay mad at Chad, but she was trying her damndest.

"Put me down," she said, squeezing her arms around his neck as if it was going to hurt him.

"You're injured," was his only response.

"So?" Karin Kurosaki didn't need to be carried anywhere. She was quite capable of taking care of herself, thankyouverymuch. "I can walk."

Chad shrugged and allowed her to slide down his back, as if challenging her to prove it. And, well, Karin never failed to rise to a challenge. But as soon as her feet hit the pavement, she could feel her legs giving way underneath her.

Luckily - or, perhaps, not so luckily - Chad's arm shot out to stop her from falling. Her face reddened with the knowledge that he was probably laughing at her, at least on the inside.

"Shut up," she said through gritted teeth, despite the fact that he hadn't said a word.

"That Hollow did substanial damage to your leg." Karin looked down for the first time since wrapping it. It was already beginning to bleed through the shirt she'd wrapped it with.

"Shit," she swore. "This Shinigami stuff is harder than it looks."

Chad bent down next to her, offering his back again. She sighed loudly in protest, but climbed up, anyway.

"I didn't need your help, you know."

He was silent for a moment. "Yeah, I know."

Karin leaned foward, smiling to herself (for some reason she couldn't explain) as her face pressed into his hair. "Good, as long as we're clear on that," she said, in a tone that didn't betray the fact that her anger had worn off.

She didn't mind Chad so much. He wasn't half as annoying as Ichigo's other male friends. All of Karin's friends appeared to be terrified of him, though. Which may have had something to do with the fact that he was twice their size.

"Where are we going?" she asked, when he turned in a different direction.

"The clinic." Karin scowled; she'd figured as much. Now she was only minutes away from being bombarded with questions from her idiot of a father.

"Do we have to?"

He stopped walking for a moment, as if considering her question. "Yes." He started walking again. Karin let out a long sigh, wrinkling her nose in displeasure.

"Do you think there's such a thing as 'too tall'?" she blurted, before stopping to think about it. He seemed like the natural one to ask, anyway.

"I think that everyone's as tall as they're supposed to be."

"What kind of answer is that?"

"Well, what kind of question is that?"

Karin flushed. "It's nothing," she muttered defensively, glad that he wasn't able to witness the way her face was reddening. What did "too tall for a girl" mean, anyway? It wasn't her fault that her legs and arms had started growing, and still hadn't stopped, even now. Chad hadn't seemed to notice - for obvious reasons, she supposed.

"My mother was feminine and delicate and all that stuff," she said, swinging her legs a little. "Yuzu looks a lot like her."

He didn't respond, seemingly content to let her ramble. "I guess it might be nice to be like that. It seems--"

"It wouldn't suit you," he interrupted, and Karin was a little taken aback with surprise. It took her a moment to remember herself.

"Um...thanks...I think..."

Stupid Chad. Confusing as ever. Of course, she mused, she might not mind taking a little extra time to figure him out.

The Reason: [Chad Gen]

Sun, 17 Sep 2006 05:51:11 GMT

Title: The Reason
Author: heron_advocate / trevorskeeper
Rating: G
Pairing(s): None.
Character(s): Sado Yasutora ("Chad")
Summary: Chad likes to take care of cute things, and it isn't just because they're cute.
Prompt(s): 034, 'promise,' for 100_situations
Word Count: 233
A/N: Yay, Chad gen/fluff. xD

If you ask anyone what they remember most vividly about Chad's apartment, they would probably say something about the smell of animals. Which isn't to say that he is slovenly, or that he doesn't take care of his property. It's just that, essentially, it is unavoidable.

Picking up every cute little thing and bringing it home isn't exactly ideal for keeping a clean home, after all. Chad figures that it is a reasonable price to pay. The little cute things need to be rescued, and who better than him? They must have been placed in his path for a reason.

Besides, they make a great audience for his guitar-playing. Especially the kittens. They liked to curl up in his lap and purr whenever he plays. To Chad, it is the best feeling in the world.

He often finds himself short on funds. All the food, toys, blankets, milk, kitty litter, and other accessories build up fairly quickly. He doesn't mind, though. Cutting meat out of his diet makes a big enough dent in his expenses for him to be able to afford the extra residents. It's an inconvenience, but certainly not intolerable. He feels that it's helped him improve himself, anyway.

Once, Ichigo asked him why he even bothered. If they died without him, it would simply be nature at work. It wasn't Chad's fault.

"I made a promise," was his only response.