Exploding Poohsticks

This is for odogoddess, who wished for "post-DH forced bonding, marriage law type, Snape *must* marry fic. Virgin Snape. Angst. Wedding night awkwardness. Happy or hopeful ending. Any partner except: any DE, any Ministry person, elves. Link to your favourites with this theme are appreciated. Prefer smut, no gen." I think I fit most of that in... ;-)


Life Force

( When Severus regained consciousness, he first batted away the radish his wife had been holding under his nose. )

zephre just posted a marvelous illustration of a Luna and her reflection.

I also really liked her take on Hawaiian!Severus and Muggle-schoolteacher!Remus, which is based on McKay's Aloha Means Hello and Good-bye (a story I have a soft spot for in any case, as AU-Severus's explanation of his name and how his parents met clicks with me on multiple levels).

Hollow, Like Lines by dollsome
Remus/Sirius, Remus/Tonks; PG; 1,800 words
Author's summary: "The fact remains that she is miserable and he is empty and there is nothing left to lose."
Ribbons's reaction: Yes, you read those pairings right. So honest and beautifully wrought I can't help but admire it.

Easter Egg Radishes by bitterfig
Luna/Tonks; Luna/Ginny; NC-17; 3162 words
Author's summary: "Five years after the final battle, Luna Lovegood finds herself drawn to the memory of Nymphadora Tonks."
Ribbons's reaction: Vivid, detailed, and illuminating. A good study of denials and connections.

westernredcedar's recording of The Hounding of the Baskervilles" is now up at JinJurly's Audio Fic Archive. She is a skilled voice artist (and adorable, too) and you will be missing out if you don't treat yourself to a listen. (If you're not into Sherlockian Snupin, go to the archive anyway and listen to her renderings of busaikko's "Double Happiness Masala" [NC-17] and "God of Things As They Ought to Be" [NC-17].)

I'm very fond of my ThinkPad, but its O/S doesn't tend to handle installations well, and when I tried to load Python earlier tonight (in order to take advantage of a LJ community migration tool), it basically choked. I'm not sure I would have been technically adept enough to see the process through, so it's probably just as well.

At any rate, via old-fashioned copy-and-paste, all my placet drabbles and ficlets are now archived on IJ as well as LJ, and the links on the the master timeline will remain connected to Cat's posts to the LJ comm unless/until she reposts them to IJ. The most recent story is Response and Responsibility (originally posted 27 July).

For: le Fic-a-Feast chez les dames_magique.
Why: I pickled seven pounds of garlic this morning, and the peppercorn jar gave me fits.
Grouping: Draco/Bella/Luna. I blame catrinella.
Backstory: The war continues beyond year seven -- long enough for revised alliances and liaisons...
Rating: R. A bit of femmeslash and bloodplay, and implied incest if you squint.
Words: 250-ish


When Draco lets himself think about it, it shouldn’t be a surprise that his aunt Bella gets along so well with Luna – they both have a marked predisposition for uncritical devotion to older male figures, what with Bella’s unwavering allegiance to the Dark Lord and Luna’s faithfulness to her father’s daft convictions. In any case, he wouldn’t swear there isn’t a blood connection somewhere back in the upper branches of the family tree: bent over a simmering cauldron of garlic and vinegar, Luna doesn’t directly resemble his mother, especially not in the messy way she knots her hair out of the way, but there is a cool arrogance in the tilt of her head that he finds extremely familiar, comforting, and spooky.

Unlike his mother, but very much like his aunt, Luna doesn’t mind getting hands-on and dirty. Sure, they could have charmed the ten pounds’ worth of cloves apart within second, and loosened the stubborn seals of spice jars with simple spells instead of smashing them open with mallets, but Bella adores the sound of breaking glass and the sight of its remains. The night Luna dropped a bottle of wine, his aunt hit him with a Petrificus before the banishment spell could leave his mouth. When he remembers how she trailed the shards over Luna’s breasts -- how she streaked the pale flesh with scarlet, her tongue chasing both the lacework of long-cellared wine and the sweet pin-spots of fresh blood –- when he revisits that long, unbearably lush evening, the taste that invariably blooms at the back of his throat is both soft and sour.


( the recipe: Persian Sugar-Pickled Garlic )