A shit fuck mood

[themostepotente]

Just like the title says.

I'm in a shit fuck mood and in need of something to do to cheer me up.

If you have a PG/PG-13 drabble (100 wordish, please) and want it translated, please amend to this post.

First 10 people for now, though I might do this in waves. Please specify Italian (preferred), German, or French.

So fucking pissed right now. I can't fucking believe I'm about to say this, but the happier the drabble right now the better.

--P

Comments

[jenna-thorn.livejournal.com]

Since it's 265 words, don't bother translating; I happened to be putting my kisses up on the web this morning and it sounds like you need a kiss.

So here, have three of Ron's... and one from me. (oh and I did get the file, but the home computer doesn't have Word (long stupid story) so I'm going to work on it at work so I've got the option of Tracking Changes.)

---:::---

Ron rolled his eyes as his mother kissed his cheek. At least she'd get it out of her system here instead of embarrassing him on the King's Cross platform. He didn't brush his cheek against his shoulder with an effort and the tickle of her hair against his ear stayed with him longer than the brush of her lips.
---:::---
Ron closed his eyes and bent at an awkward angle over the library table toward Hermione who stretched to meet him, in purely scientific curiosity of course. Harry had kissed Cho and they'd decided to try this experiment with one another to save themselves any similar embarrassment with strangers. Or worse, Neville. Her lips were slightly chapped and she straightened with a speculative look, but no words of undying passion. Which was for the best, probably.
---:::---
Ron kept his eyes open, daring Draco to do the same, to discount any chance of either of them pretending the other was someone, anyone else. A dare gone too far to back down, an audience watching in disbelief, the silence broken with a hiss as Ron slid his hand behind Draco's neck and Draco, never to be outdone, pulled his fistful of Ron's collar closer still. A staggered step brought them together as lips parted with a clash of teeth of and tongue, not romantic in any way but bringing with it images of sweat and stretched limbs and oh no, he was hard. As was Draco. Because of the robes, no one else knew, never would, but they did. Both of them. Oh shit.

[themostepotente.livejournal.com]

Oh good! I'm glad you got it!

And thank you for the kiss. I really needed it.

If you have something shorter, just let me know :-)

shorter

[jenna-thorn.livejournal.com]

You know me, my GIPs are more than a hundred words. But let's see if I can't do something just for you to make you smile. Just counted. 76 words. I really can''t write short, can I?

---:::---

Harry doesn't laugh out loud. Ron's used to noise, grew up with his mother's shreiking admonitions, the twin's near-manical chortling, Bill's sarcasm, his father's low rumble, Ginny's shrill giggle. He doesn't know if it's natural or a remnant of the cage Harry lives in through the summers, lived in for too many years, but Harry doesn't laugh.

But when Ron pulls back, panting, both of them mussed and blushing, Harry smiles. And that's even better.

[snapetoy.livejournal.com]

Um, Penny I went looking, but most of my stuff is way above PG *grins* so no drabble from me, but lots of love and sympathy.

*hugs*

[themostepotente.livejournal.com]

Thank you, Toy. I really appreciate that :-)

Cute icon. *smiles*

Happy Drabble For You

[maubast.livejournal.com]

Sorry you're pissed. Here's my contribution to cheering you up (the first 100 words of a longer fic):

His eyes are the colour of the killing curse, the colour of powerful magic, old magic.

When he lies beneath me, our bodies fused together, those green eyes stare into my soul and mark me far more effectively than Voldemort ever did.

I don’t wear this mark on the outside – instead, I wear it on my heart, in my soul, right where he can see it.

And at night, when he sleeps in my arms, I think of those green, green eyes and wonder how I tamed such power and turned it from a boy’s hate into a man’s love?

Italian?

[alchemia.livejournal.com]

http://www.intertexius.com/shorts/scarf.shtml

Its about half a drabble really though.

Re: Italian?

[alchemia.livejournal.com]

Oh ps, it was 'r' for implied age; im not sure if your rating request was inclusive of what was implied or just to avoid graphic sexual translations. If its not appropiate, don't do it, no problem.

[ashinae.livejournal.com]

Don't worry about translating it, but maybe this old drabble of mine might make you giggle a little?

Performance Anxiety
He hadn't been at all worried about Defence Against the Dark Arts. When he should have been studying, he was instead goofing off with Sirius.

These were things a school Prefect just didn't do.

School Prefects also didn't show up naked for exams.

Oh, no, he was naked. Very, very naked, and everybody was staring at him. He was standing in front of these venerable wizards and his fellow students, bare as the day he was born.

Perhaps it was possible to die of embarrassment.

"Remus?"

He lifted his head and peered blearily at Sirius.

"You're drooling on your book."

[themostepotente.livejournal.com]

It did -- thank you! I could probably translate this :-)

[geoviki.livejournal.com]

Here is my very very first drabble. Your choice of language, my dear.

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were standing very close together.

A Gryffindor wouldn't let that intimacy go unanswered.
A Slytherin would make sure the doors were locked.

A Gryffindor would rush forward into the next kiss, and the next.
A Slytherin would first murmur a spell to take care of the day-old growth of beard that his partner had neglected to address that morning.

A Gryffindor wouldn't be content to enjoy the physical sensations of their kisses. A Gryffindor would be obliged to confess what was in his heart.

A Slytherin would never confess. Maybe Draco belonged in Gryffindor.

[gatewaygirl.livejournal.com]

This is three times drabble-length, and just to cheer you up, not to translate. I wrote it just now, but I was working on happy, rather than trying to get one of your preferred pairs -- I hope it's okay.

Feel better!

Gg

---

When they showed up for the Christmas celebrations, Mrs. Weasley was gracious. She wasn't gracious in a poised, society sort of way; she was gracious for real, treating Harry with the same warmth she always had.

Mrs. Weasley was gracious, so Harry tried to be discreet. The social rearrangements of the last few months had not been easy on her. First, Fleur had switched from Bill to Charlie, who was perhaps better equipped for peaceable co-existence with a dangerous magical creature; he didn't mind that she spent much of the week in the city, and he accepted her anonymous lovers there as necessary to her nature. The transfer of her affections had been gradual and almost amiable -- everyone but their parents had seen the change coming. Bill had been a month into a grueling joint project with Harry (Bill as researcher, Harry as blood supply and Legilimentic link to Voldemort) to break the curse that affected more and more members of the Order. Within days of Fleur's move, Bill and Harry had fallen into bed and into love. Again, everyone but the senior Weasleys had seen it coming -- before Bill and Harry had, if they were to be believed.

Mrs. Weasley had been taken off-guard by both these things, so Harry tried to be discreet, but he could see that Bill was hurt to be kept at arms length. After dinner, Bill pulled him into the deserted kitchen and asked what was wrong. Harry explained. Bill shook his head.

"You don't understand. If you don't touch me, she'll think you don't love me, and will worry more than ever."

When Mrs. Weasley found them kissing in the kitchen, pressed together as tight as winter clothing would allow, tongues seeking desperately for more taste of the other, she was gracious. Harry even saw her smile.

[themostepotente.livejournal.com]

This was so sweet! *melts* Thank you so much :-)