Evolutionary Masturbation

Fic: Damaged, McCoy/Chekov, NC-17

isidore13@gmail.com — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 03:58:18 GMT

Title: Damaged
Author: isidore13
Pairing: McCoy/Chekov
Written For: eldritchhorrors
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 7589
Disclaimer: Not mine in any conceivable way.
Warnings: Highlight if you want to know: **in no particular order: slight humiliation, mention of a het relationship (not explicit, TOS canon but not necessarily ST:XI canon), angst, totally consensual daddy issues kink, rimming, slash (buttsecks)**
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t here because his childhood had been idyllic.
Notes: So sorry for the late posting, eldritchhorrors; I hope you enjoy it!

Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t here because his childhood had been idyllic. Even kids with genius IQ levels will tend to stay home rather than join an adult organization, where they will knowingly be surrounded by people who’ll either resent their intelligence or pretend it isn’t real.

That is, they’ll stay home if their home life is even a little bit less than completely awful.

Pavel Andreievich Chekov’s could not be viewed that way. Not that he’d ever told anyone about it. Or ever would, if he could help it.

During the first four years of his life, Pavel Andreievich had been deeply, deeply loved by both of his parents. He could remember his mother cuddling him close while she read her psychology books, and his father playing football with him in the backyard, teaching him how to kick the ball with the side of his foot.

On Pavel Andreievich’s fifth birthday, his mother had gone out to get frosting for his birthday cake, which she’d forgotten the day before.

She never came back home.

Though he was only five years old, Pavel Andreievich had been showing signs of his impressive intelligence since birth. He understood what the police detective meant when he told Andrei that Pavel Andreievich’s mother had died instantly after her car was struck and shoved into the wall of the shopping center.

What he didn’t understand at the time – and, really, still understood on only the most superficial of levels as he matured – was how his father reacted to the loss of his wife.

At first, Andrei drew into himself, sitting in the family space for hours, days, with a bottle in his lap, watching the family view screen, running through all of the files that had any kind of image or sound of Pavel Andreievich’s mother. He often forgot to make dinner for himself and Pavel Andreievich, and as a result, Pavel would have to scrounge for whatever was available – replicators were too expensive to keep in private homes, so Pavel would have to make do with the produce delivery of the week, and sometimes he could find a packet of crackers to fill out his night time meal.

Once – only once, and never again after that – Pavel Andreievich tried to climb up into his father’s lap so they could watch his mother together, as he felt he wanted to watch his mum, too. He’d even brought along a banana for his father to eat. But Andrei just grunted and shoved little Pavel Andreievich to the floor.

So Pavel Andreievich was left to find his own comfort. Being the smart little boy he was, he turned to his data PADDs to look at the pictures of bunnies and birds and cats and frogs. Soon enough he was sounding out the letters in the text parts as well as he could. He practiced it all the time, calling up pictures of each page of the story in his little brain and taking each letter by itself, until he was able to recite the whole story.

He never thought it strange that he only had to look at a story once to be able to recall the entire thing, down the slightly out-of-place slash mark on page six of Bunny Rabbit Jingles and the missing period at the end of page eight of Miss Anna’s Spaceship Adventures.

To little Pavel Andreievich, the two weeks it took to learn all of the stories on each of his little library of children’s data PADDS seemed to stretch out forever – but after that, there was nothing left for Pavel Andreievich to read, and Andrei was still too sad to pay attention enough to buy new stories for Pavel Andreievich’s data PADDs.

But soon enough, Pavel Andreievich remembered that his mother’s office was full of books. They were all big books, but that didn’t matter to Pavel Andreievich – after all, he could look at the page and memorize the words on it, and then recall an exact picture of the page to read later in his head.

All that being said, Pavel Andreievich wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the really big books – his mother had preferred to read old books in the original, thick, hard-back copy-bound style, so her study was actually full of bookcases – a rare thing to find in a private house. So Pavel Andreievich started with the thin little books on the lowest shelf.

By the time he turned 7, though, he’d moved on to the thicker books only a few shelves down from the top of the bookcases; he was now reading his mother’s more advanced (if antiquated) psychology textbooks from the late 20th century.

Another change was occurring in his life, when he turned 7. He finally changed schools from the play center to the learning center, where he would begin to learn academics.

His teachers at the learning center noticed immediately that he had special gifts, and during academic periods, he was given the tools and assignments he needed for his education to be valuable and beneficial to him.

But during the socialization and play periods, he also played with the other children and participated in all of the activities they did. It was a fact generally acknowledged that all children, regardless of their abilities, needed to socialize together in order to learn the skills necessary to socializing as adults. The play centers, which children attended from the age of 2 through the age of 6, addressed this need exclusively, teaching only basic academic skills such as counting and the alphabet. The learning centers, however, had the more difficult job of addressing both the social and the academic needs of children from 7 through 12 years old. At 13, children entered the higher learning center where the focus was on academics and there was the option of beginning to learn a trade, though social activities like dances and parades were sponsored by the school.

At age 18, through completion at any age, the student was expected to continue his or her education at the Academy level, and there were any number of Academies throughout the world which students could attend. The focus at the Academy was on learning a trade – most Academies offered more than one, though some were specialized, like Starfleet Academy. Any social activities at an Academy were created and implemented by the students themselves.

Students at an Academy were also expected to participate with taking care of the practical necessities; meals, janitorial duties, and teaching as appropriate and necessary.

But little Pavel Andreievich didn’t have to worry about that, on entering the learning center; that kind of duty was expected of adults, not children. Seven-year-olds were not expected to do anything but learn and play.

And Pavel Andreievich did both.

It was at the learning center where Pavel Andreievich discovered the two greatest loves of his whole childhood: mathematics, and running.

His teachers, impressed with his astonishing skill and reading and his eidetic memory, were shocked to learn that he knew nothing of math beyond the counting songs they sang in the play centers.

This was easily remedied, however, by giving him a beginner’s mathematics textbook PADD.

Pavel Andreievich fell in love. Happily, he would study the mathematics PADD until the wee small hours of the morning. Most nights, he was so caught up he would forget to cook dinner for himself, but that was all right; his school provided him with both breakfast and lunch and Pavel Andreievich never felt hungry.

He read through all of the text in the first PADD in less than a month, and found applying the standards and formulas in the PADD as easy as reading. He could simply recall the page that explained the necessary steps and apply those steps to the problem in front of him. By the time he left the learning center for the higher learning center he had already learned calculus, a class usually taught in the second year at the higher learning center.

Around the time Pavel Andreievich turned 8, he realized that his father blamed him for the death of his mother. He realized this when he found himself squeezing deep in the darkness underneath his bed, cradling a broken wrist and trying desperately to hide from his father, who was searching for him in order to break his other wrist.

He had the bone knitted with the laser at school, telling the nurse that he’d fallen while he was practicing running.

For, when Pavel Andreievich wasn’t studying his mathematics PADDs, he was running. He and a few of the other children in his class spent almost every outdoor free period racing each other around the big racing track. They all went to the same higher learning center at 13, and for the year that Pavel Andreievich was there with them, he was an integral part of the freshman running club.

But that was also the year that Pavel discovered physics.

Physics, of course, involving mathematics as they apply to the real world.

Pavel Andreievich fell in love all over again.

He’d always seen the beauty of numbers in a way that no one else he had ever known saw them, but now, he could see numbers everywhere he looked. The sunset, for example, was aesthetically beautiful but the equation that determined the intensity of the purple bits, for example, was just as beautiful, just as natural, to Pavel Andreievich. The papers he turned in to his physics teachers tended to reflect his idea that there was a mathematical equation to practically everything in the whole universe.

At 13, Pavel Andreievich had gotten pretty good at avoiding his father, but he was still getting caught at least once every two months, and a finger or two, or his wrist, would have to be knitted by the laser in the nurse’s office at school.
,p>So when the Starfleet recruiter came seeking applicants from the class leaving the higher learning center, he decided to take the application exam, just to see what would happen.

The recruiter was amused and thought Pavel Andreievich was adorable, so she let him sit the exam.

This was when Pavel Andreievich came to the attention of Starfleet Academy.

He was the first 13-year-old to be actively courted by Starfleet Academy. For although it wasn’t unheard-of for teenagers to start attending school at the Academy level, Starfleet simply had never encountered a 13-year-old mind that they considered developed enough to handle life at an Academy, not to mention the rigors of space travel. However, just like every other Starfleet hopeful, he sat the entrance exams. He was accepted with an eagerness that almost embarrassed him.

Pavel, who’d stopped using his patronymic soon after arriving in San Francisco, was given a private room – unheard of for a first-year cadet, but considered necessary in his case to protect him from the antics the older cadets freely indulged in outside of classes. He didn’t talk about it much for this reason – it was hard enough to make friends among the other students, all at least four years his senior, and most only half as intelligent. It was hard for Pavel to hide his intelligence in school with children his own age; impossible when he was famous for being the wunderkind accepted into the prestigious Starfleet Academy almost five years too young.

In lieu of friend, though, he had physics. Willingly, he poured himself into his studies, poring over his instructional PADDs so intently that he earned himself a meeting with a nurse at the school clinic, the upshot of which was that if he skipped any more meals, he would be assigned housing with one of the teachers ad their family.

So, taking advantage of the luxury of having a private room, he set up a very loud alarm to ring at mealtimes, so he could be sure not to miss any more meals.

He met Irina when he was fifteen, the night after he became the youngest cadet ever to win the Starfleet Academy marathon. He’d seen her before that night, as they were taking the same physics classes, and that night, she knocked on the door of his room, asking for help, saying that the Russians at the Academy had to stick together, da?

She represented the birth of his libido. Irina was a passionate woman, older than him by two or three years and thus possessing that mysterious quality only found in older women: experience. She taught him about love, about sex, about the intense appeal of the more experienced partner.

They stayed together until her graduation, when she was assigned to a ship bound for a world due for terraforming – Irina’s specialty and passion. They exchanged letters for many months, slowly winding down to birthdays and important holidays.

A year later, Pavel Andreievich was selected by Captain Christopher Pike for service aboard the almost-completed U.S.S. Enterprise – with state-of-the-art functionality and computers.

Pavel‘s father’s entire reaction to Pavel’s news that he was going to be the lead navigator on Starfleet’s brand-new flagship was, "Calling home to brag about how good you’re doing without me, Pavel Andreievich?"

"It’s just Pavel, now, Andrei," Pavel growled, and hit the button to end the call hard.

It marked the first time since leaving for San Francisco that he’d contacted his father.

It also marked the last time he ever would.

Pavel was there for the final completion of the Enterprise; he was on the ship, in his place beside Lieutenant Sulu when the distress call from Vulcan came.

Few things were beyond Pavel Chekov’s capacity for memory. It was both a blessing and a curse that he could remember almost everything with near-perfect clarity.

A blessing because he was able to recall important facts in an instant.

And a curse, because he would never be able to forget anything that happened on the most traumatic single day of his life; the day James T. Kirk became the true – if only acting – captain of the Enterprise.

He cheered along with everyone else when Kirk was given the Enterprise as his first command. There were some cadets who questioned the decision – loudly and often – but they were mostly, Pavel decided immediately, jealous that James T. Kirk was so amazing and intelligent and clearly a leader of men. When James T. Kirk chose to keep him on as lead navigator, he was filled with even more pride than before to be serving under such a fantastic, interesting, and capable and handsome captain.

He was so busy setting up his station again, wanting everything to be perfect so he could impress Captain Kirk with his skill and competence, that he didn’t settle into his quarters properly until the third day of his first mission under Kirk. He was rooming with the fourth navigator, and since the fourth navigator took the night shift, their schedules were completely opposite; when Pavel was awake, his roommate was asleep, and vice versa.

Pavel realized immediately that he wouldn’t be able to do his blaring alarm trick to remind him to eat. He was going to have to work without a crutch for the first time in four years.

For about a month, he actually managed it, at least well enough to get by. He started to think that he wouldn’t need to worry about it again.

This, of course, was his downfall.

In the middle of his shift, directly after they were trapped inside a thick, viscous cloud, Pavel Andreievich Chekov fell out of his chair, crumpling to the floor in a dead faint.

He woke up in sickbay, with Nurse Chapel hovering over him with a sweet smile. "You gave us quite a scare, Ensign Chekov," she said in her kind but professional voice.

Pavel licked his dry lips. "What happened?" he rasped, wondering why his throat hurt.

"You tell me," came the gruff voice of Dr. Leonard McCoy, whom Pavel Chekov had been trying to avoid as the man reminded him of Andrei, for no discernible reason. “You fainted in the middle of your shift, Ensign.” His eyes were narrowed as he came over to look down at Pavel.

It struck Pavel very suddenly how good-looking the doctor was. The lines on his face, the determined set of his mouth and jaw, gave him a firm, experienced look, like a man who brooked no nonsense from anyone. Pavel ran his eyes over the slope of Dr. McCoy’s shoulders, seeing the strength there under the blue medical uniform. Dr. McCoy’s body was built to comfort distressed patients and little boys, which Pavel suddenly felt very much like.

"…were you thinking?!"

Pavel jumped. He hadn't even heard Dr. McCoy speaking, as caught up as he was with his own thoughts. "I'm sorry, sir?" he said. "What did you say?"

Dr. McCoy glared. "What. Were. You. Thinking?" he ground out.

Pavel swallowed hard, nervous about displeasing the good doctor even more. "Er. About what, doctor?"

Dr. McCoy glared harder and crossed his arms. Pavel should probably start being concerned about how attractive that was to him. "You," Dr. McCoy growled, "Have not eaten for four days."

Pavel blinked and winced. "Four days? Really?"

"Four days, Ensign. What the hell were you thinking? Or weren't you thinking at all? For God's sake, boy, aren't you supposed to be some sort of genius?"

Pavel swallowed hard again, and winced again. "You are correct, doctor, it is accurate to say that I was not thinking. I get caught up in my reading and my work, and forget to eat."

"You, you forget to eat?" Dr. McCoy glared. "It is your responsibility as an officer to keep yourself fit for duty. How did you manage four years at Starfleet?"

Pavel shrunk in on himself a little. "I had my own room at the Academy," he murmured, quite as if that explained everything.

Dr. McCoy was still glaring at him, though, and after a moment he snapped, "Dammit, Ensign, I'm a doctor, not a mind reader. What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

Pavel blinked. "I set my alarm to ring at mealtimes," he said, wondering why this wasn't as obvious to the doctor as it was to him.

Dr. McCoy frowned, and then his gaze turned speculative and penetrating. "I also noticed several old breaks in the bones of your fingers and wrists, some older than others. Care to explain?"

Pavel blushed and managed to both shrink a little bit more under the covers and point his nose defiantly in the air. "I was a clumsy child," he replied with quiet dignity.

"Mmm," Dr. McCoy said. "Since you clearly can't manage your own mealtimes, I will do it for you until further notice." Dr. McCoy gave him a very stern look. "Perhaps then in the future, we'll be able to use our first navigator when we're stuck for three days in a cloud of syrup."

Pavel's eyes widened and he swallowed hard again, then gave a subdued, "Yes, sir."

Dr. McCoy gave him another hard look and then nodded. "I trust my point is made. Sleep well, Ensign." He pressed a hypospray against Pavel's neck, and Pavel knew no more.

"I need Ensign Chekov for lunch, Jim."

Pavel looked up from his station and glanced over his shoulder at the captain and the doctor in time to see the captain nodding. "Go on, Ensign."

Pavel nodded at Captain Kirk's order and stood up as his relief slipped into his vacated seat. No one was really upset with him, which was a blessing, but he was still embarrassed about the whole thing. Especially since some of the crew was treating him with kid gloves still. Sulu in particular was worried about Pavel. He'd come to Sickbay with a plateful of Pavel's favorite food, pirozhki, a savory Russian pastry. Still, Pavel was feeling guilty, which was good in his mind; the guilt was more intense than the embarrassment he felt at having to be escorted back and forth from the mess hall like an errant child. Not that he didn't deserve it… and need it, really.

"We'll go to the officer's mess," Dr. McCoy said out of the blue as Pavel joined him in the turbolift. Pavel's eyes widened; it wasn't many ensigns who got to eat in the officer's mess, even when they were lead navigator. "Don't look so surprised, Ensign," Dr. McCoy said gruffly as the turbolift move down and then to the left. "I wouldn't have been surprised if you'd said you hadn't eaten for four days because the food was inedible in the lower deck mess."

Pavel laughed in spite of himself and licked his lips. "I am sorry, Doctor," he said feelingly.

Dr. McCoy just rolled his eyes. "That's enough of that nonsense," he groused. "It's as easy for me to keep track of your eating habits as it is to keep track of the captain's." He snorted. "Easier, actually, since at least you don't put up much resistance to me."

Pavel blushed a deep, deep red, earning himself a knowing smirk from the doctor. Did the doctor know that Pavel had been nursing a crush on him for the past few days? Fervently, Pavel hoped his efforts to keep it a secret had not been in vain. "What would resisting do? I'm sure that you'd just tie me to the chair." He felt his cheeks heating up again and his eyes widened – how could he have said that? Sometimes, he just didn't feel very smart at all.

The doctor's answering smile was forming slowly, and there was a predatory sort of look in his eyes that sent rather a thrill through Pavel. "Tie you to the chair, hmm?" he mused. His voice was rougher than usual and Pavel swallowed hard. Was he ever going to be able to stop blushing? "And what would happen after that?"

Pavel blinked. Did Dr. McCoy really ask him…? "I, I don't… know…" he swallowed hard when Dr. McCoy hit the button to stop the turbolift. "What would you do?" he said, more bravely than he felt. He was proud when his voice didn't tremble in the slightest.

Dr. McCoy smirked and stepped a little closer, right into Pavel's personal space, warming the whole turbolift. Their mouths were just a few breaths apart, and Pavel licked his lips instinctively. Dr. McCoy's eyes dropped to his mouth. "How old are you again, kid?"

"I'm 17, sir," Pavel said breathlessly. Why did that matter?

Dr. McCoy sighed a little. "17." He sighed again and shook his head, stepping back. Pavel immediately felt colder, and he almost stepped closer to Dr. McCoy, but then the turbolift doors opened and it was time to eat.

Pavel loved the way that he felt when he was with Dr. McCoy: it was like he was 12 years old again, being taken care of like a child – but his feelings for the doctor were decidedly adult, as were the thoughts in his brain when he had his hand curled around his cock every night.

The thoughts were arousing – terribly arousing, really, and Pavel had to be careful what he thought about when he was in public – but sort of… vague. Pavel suspected it had to do with the fact that he'd never been with a man before, and hadn't really thought about men in a sexual way before Dr. McCoy, though now that he'd noticed Dr. McCoy he was definitely noticing all of the other men on the ship.

But he always came back to Dr. McCoy, especially after he was able to snitch one of the doctor's handkerchiefs from his pocket. The handkerchief smelled like the doctor, and Pavel held it to his nose every night when he stroked himself off. More than once, too, he spent his breaks during the work day (except lunch, of course) wanking in his quarters – quietly, so his roommate wouldn't hear.

After a time, Dr. McCoy backed off of the lunches. He started dropping Pavel off in the officer's mess and heading back to his sickbay to do the boring bits of being CMO, which left Pavel feeling rather depressed. He wondered if Dr. McCoy was really trying to make sure Pave l could take care of himself – or if the good doctor just wanted to distance himself from the boy he considered too young, after that moment in the elevator, which Pavel had figured out meant that Dr. McCoy was attracted to him.

He wished he was the sort to go and just grab Dr. McCoy and kiss him, hard and hungry, but that wasn't Pavel's style. Pavel didn't really have a style. Irina had been the aggressor between them, and that was Pavel's only real experience with relationships.

So Pavel ate lunch by itself, though it was very lonely and boring without Dr. McCoy's gruff, no-nonsense wit and charm. He took to bringing along the service manual for his computer station, which he hadn't bothered with reading before since the computer station seemed rather straightforward, but soon he was engrossed in that. He was careful at first to make sure he ate his meal before he started reading.

Soon, though, he was reading and eating at the same time, and not just his manual now but his favorite quantum physics textbooks PADD and a PADD with the new math being developed on Vulcan.

After that, it was only a matter of time before he found himself back in sickbay, feeling weak, because he'd forget to eat while he was reading.

Dr. McCoy was – to say the least – furious with him, and he ordered Pavel off his shift and to stay in sickbay until they could figure out a way to fix the problem.

Pavel knew then that there was more than just his relationship with the crew at stake – his whole career was in jeopardy, all because he got so easily distracted. He didn't know how to fix the problem on his own, though, and he spent several frustrated hours in Dr. McCoy's office talking about it, about how this all came to be, his relationship with his father and everything that had happened to him when he was a child. He could see the anger growing in Dr. McCoy's eyes, and he flinched from it, though part of him suspected that the anger was directed at Andrei, and not at Pavel.

That night, the night of the day he finally confessed his past to Starfleet, and to Dr. McCoy, he barely slept an hour. Like most 17 year old boys would, Pavel turned to wanking to satisfy himself and hopefully make him pleasantly sleepy. He still had possession of Dr. McCoy's handkerchief, and he pulled it out, sniffing deeply. The scent was almost gone by now but the memory of the scent was enough, and Pavel moaned, eagerly curling his hand around his eager prick.

He still could not properly imagine what it would be like to make love with a man, but it was enough for now to imagine Dr. McCoy's weight on top of him, pressing him down into the mattress, hard and heavy and holding Pavel firmly in place. He moaned and bit his lip to keep from getting louder as he imagined himself under Dr. McCoy, the doctor's voice rumbling in his ear as he was fucked, fucked hard, telling him he was filthy and naughty and wanted--

Pavel came so hard he almost sobbed, rubbing himself frantically and catching the hot stream of come in his hand. "Doctor!" he moaned loudly, panting as he slumped back against the pillows, feeling too happy and sated to move at the moment. Seeing nothing else for it, he lifted his hand to his mouth to lick his come from his fingers.

He was just finishing up when he heard someone's throat clearing, and he froze. "That was quite the show," Dr. McCoy said roughly, moving closer to the sickbay cot. Pavel swallowed hard. "Quite the show," Dr. McCoy repeated, and there was something enticingly malevolent in his voice.

Pavel drew in a deep, shaky breath and opened his mouth to speak, to try to defend himself, to say something, anything, only Dr. McCoy shook his head, giving Pavel a stern look, and Pavel closed his mouth right away, feeling young and small.

The handkerchief was plucked from Pavel's stiff fingers. "This is my handkerchief." Dr. McCoy narrowed his eyes and then got the same look on his face that Pavel had when he was trying to figure out a particularly challenging equation. "You were masturbating using my handkerchief," Dr. McCoy said, sounding surprised, wondering.

How was it that the doctor could make such a clinical term sound so hot? Pavel shifted, feeling his cock harden again despite the circumstances, and then gasped when he realized his cock was still hanging out of his sickbay pajamas. Luckily, he was covered by the sheet, but he was mortified nevertheless.

"Well?" the doctor said in a prompting tone, and Pavel blinked, not realizing that he had gotten lost in his thoughts again.

"I'm sorry, doctor, I didn't hear what you said," Pavel murmured, feeling his own cheeks quite flushed with his embarrassment.

The doctor glared at him. "Where did you get my handkerchief, Ensign Chekov?"

Pavel shivered at Dr. McCoy's tone and swallowed hard. He had a feeling that a lie would just make the doctor even more angry, so he admitted the truth. "It was in your pocket, and I…" Pavel swallowed hard and hid his hands under himself in an instinctive gesture. "I took it."

"You stole my handkerchief from me?" the doctor asked, but oddly he sounded more pensive than angry. "I think I've figured out what your problem is." Pavel's eyes widened: it was impossible to mistake that husky tone and look in Dr. McCoy's eyes for anything but arousal. The doctor stepped closer, and then closer still, until all of a sudden he was bending over Pavel, staring down at him hungrily. "What you really need is to be taken in hand, isn't it? Like the little boy that you are."

Pavel blinked. "W-what?" he breathed.

Dr. McCoy nodded, clearly certain of himself. "You are a little boy." His eyes flicked down to Pavel's cock under the sheet, and Pavel blushed. "And you're going to be my little boy, and you'll do as I say, is that clear?"

Pavel wanted to protest, but he couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't be a lie. His mouth dry, a lump in his throat, he just nodded.

The doctor nodded again, too. "Then when you're healed again, you'll move in with me, and when we're alone, you'll be my obedient little boy, won't you?"

A deep, shuddery breath, and Pavel nodded, eyes wide, cock aching, rubbing now against the smooth, cool sheets, and he wanted nothing more in that moment than for Dr. McCoy to pull off the sheets, lay down on top of him, and do to him what men did.

"Then that's settled," the doctor said. "You'll live with me when you're a healthy boy again." He turned and headed for his office, though he turned back long enough to say wickedly, "And you are not to touch your naughty little prick again, Pavel Chekov."

It was only a couple of days before Pavel Chekov was back on duty. There was less concern this time, and more annoyance, which was only to be expected, really, but it wasn't easy to deal with, and by the time Pavel's shift ended he was achingly tired.

Out of habit, he headed straight for his own quarters. He hadn't forgotten about what Dr. McCoy had said about going to live with him once he was healthy again, but the doctor hadn't said anything more about it since that night, so Pavel wasn't sure that Dr. McCoy hadn't been reacting to his own arousal at catching Pavel wanking with the doctor's name on his lips. Pavel had been a good boy, anyway, and had eaten properly and hadn't touched himself – that was the hardest part. At 17, without an outlet, the urge to masturbate was nearly irresistible, but Pavel very much wanted to be a good boy – if Dr. McCoy meant what he said, anyway.

Soon enough, the turbolift reached Pavel's deck, and he turned out of the turbolift bay. His jaw nearly dropped when he saw Dr. McCoy waiting at the doors to his quarters. "Oh! You're… you're here!" He couldn't quite keep the thrilled little smile from his face.

D. McCoy shrugged. "I thought you might come down here to get some things – I assume you haven't forgotten your orders – so I decided to wait for you here. But I've moved your things up to my quarters, so turn your little ass around and get right back on the turbolift."

Pavel blinked and swallows hard. "Y-yes, Dr. McCoy," he said obediently, and turned right back around to get on the turbolift, feeling a thrill go straight through him to his suddenly eager cock. Dr. McCoy followed behind him.

The moment the turbolift doors closed Pavel found himself pressed up against them, his eyes wide. "Dr. McCoy!"

Dr. McCoy shook his head and kissed Pavel hard, punishingly. "When we're alone, little boy, I'm your Daddy, I'm not Dr. McCoy, is that clear?"

Pavel moaned and tried not to rub against Dr. McCoy's hard thigh, but it was too tempting to resist for long. "Yes, sir," he panted, arms going around Dr. McCoy's neck.

Dr. McCoy growled and smacked Pavel's thigh, and though it stung a bit it only made Pavel harder. He groaned out loud and almost missed the doctor's words. "Say it, little boy, call me Daddy!"

"Daddy!" Pavel cried, and suddenly Dr. McCoy was his Daddy, and Pavel was nothing but a naughty little boy, and he could feel his hips working, rubbing off against Daddy's hard thigh and making the neediest noises he'd ever heard. "Daddy!" he cried again.

Daddy smacked Pavel's thigh again and Pavel yelped his pleasure at the stinging strike, and then Daddy's hands were stilling his hips and Pavel couldn't rub anymore! "Daddy!" he whimpered plaintively, only for Daddy to turn him around and smack his naughty bottom hard.

"Behave yourself, Pavel!" Daddy ordered. "This is our secret, no one can know I'm your Daddy, Ensign!"

Pavel pouted but tried to calm down. He licked his lips and nodded, looking up at Daddy through his lashes, trying to smooth curls that were in disarray. "S-sorry, Daddy," he breathed.

Daddy moaned, staring down at Pavel and then pulling him into a hungry, eager kiss, breaking off the moment before the turbolift doors slid open. Pavel was very glad there was no one in the hallway, because he knew his hard little prick was easy to see as a bulge underneath his uniform.

He was also glad for empty hallways because it meant that Daddy could hold his hand as they walked down the hall. Daddy didn't seem to be in any kind of hurry now, though, which was frustrating; Pavel's prick was aching. Walking the ten meters from the turbolift to Daddy's quarters was sheer torture, but the real torture came after the door to Daddy's quarters slid closed, because all Daddy did was sit down behind his computer.

Pavel fidgeted a little bit. "Should I go unpack, Daddy?" he asked quietly, nervously.

But Daddy shook his head. "No, Pavel. You may sit and have a cup of cocoa while Daddy finishes his work."

Pavel swallowed hard and nodded and headed over to the replicator, ordering himself a hot cocoa. He made his way over to the sofa and started to sit, but stopped at a stern look from his Daddy.

"No, no, Pavel, little boys sit on Daddy's lap, not by themselves on the sofa." Daddy patted his lap and Pavel grinned shyly and went over, slipping down sideways on Daddy's lap. He rubbed a little against Daddy's hard prick and got a smack on the thigh for his trouble, so he tried to concentrate on drinking his hot cocoa, and not on either of the hard pricks nearby.

He was almost asleep by the time Daddy finally finished his work, but he woke up when Daddy nudged him from his comfortable, warm, hard perch. "It's time for our shower, and then bed," Daddy said, and Pavel knew by the look in Daddy's eyes that sleep was not the first thing on the menu once they got into bed. His prick hardened again eagerly.

"Shower together, Daddy?" Pavel asked, following Daddy into the bathroom.

"Yes, little boy, we'll shower together and I'll make sure you're nice and clean, and then you can masturbate while I clean myself." Daddy smirked at him and Pavel made a soft eager noise, the same noise he made the first time he'd had sex with Irina.

Daddy started the water going and Pavel sighed a little, grateful for the chance to take a proper shower and not the sonic shower down in his own – his old – quarters. The washcloth Daddy used to scrub him was very nubbly and he moaned softly when Daddy cleaned his prick with it, the soap making him extra sensitive. Daddy's fingers in his hair felt very good, too, and soon Pavel was as relaxed as he ever had been.

"All finished," Daddy said, though as far as Pavel was concerned it came far too soon. "Little boys sit on the floor while Daddy's busy," Daddy ordered sternly, giving him a hard look, and Pavel slid to the floor of the shower, scooting into a corner. Down here, Daddy's cock was right in his face and he could see how large and beautiful and perfect it was, and, making that needy noise again, he curled his hand around his cock, stroking hard. Above him, Daddy chuckled and started washing himself, some of the soapy suds slipping down and landing on Pavel's furiously-stroking hand. "Don't come until Daddy gives you permission, Pavel."

To Pavel's humiliation, he actually whimpered with desperation at the idea that he might not get to come tonight. He stared hard at Daddy's thick cock, at the way the water ran off in a stream at the tip. He wanted to lean forward and lick Daddy's cock like a Daddy-flavored lollipop. "Daddy, please!" he begged, tugging at his little prick needily. Daddy just patted his head affectionately and Pavel positively whined. "Daddy, Daddy!" Pavel panted. "I need it!" he cried, tugging his prick sharply but only every few seconds, almost sobbing. "Daddy, please, please, please, I need to co-o-ome," he begged helplessly, sounding more and more like the little boy he really was at heart with every panting, hungry breath.

Daddy chuckled again and nudged Pavel's prick with his big toe, causing Pavel to gasp and make a particularly humiliating keening sound. "No, not yet," Daddy decided, and Pavel gasped out loud and couldn't help but rub himself a little bit harder at that, at being denied his treat by his Daddy. "Little boys don't usually need to come very often, so you can wait – oh, Pavel!" Daddy clucked his tongue and handed Pavel the soapy washcloth. Pavel blinked at it; he hadn't come yet, so he didn't know what it was for. "Your little prick is leaking, naughty, filthy little boy, clean yourself thoroughly!"

"Daddy!" Pavel begged, but already he was curling the soapy washcloth around his needy prick, hoping Daddy wouldn't make him clean it for too long since his cock was already so sensitive and the soap would make it even more sensitive.

Daddy washed his hair, ignoring Pavel's pleas to him to be allowed to come, even when Pavel switched to Russian in his needy haze. Every now and then again he'd pat Pavel's hair like an affectionate Daddy should do to his little boy. "Good boy!" Daddy praised him, "Since you're being so very, very obedient, you may come!" Daddy said with a smirk, and Pavel positively screamed as he came all over himself and the shower. Daddy laughed and rinsed the come from the floor and the walls, then rinsed Pavel clean again and turned off the hot water after he rinsed the soap from Pavel's cock and hands. "Now, let's go to bed, and Daddy will make you feel very, very good."

Pavel nodded eagerly and followed Daddy into the bedroom. "Please, Daddy, will you let me come again?"

Daddy stopped in his tracks and turned around to glare at Pavel sternly. "Little boys don't ask questions like that or they get a spanking. The only time you ask to come is if you really, really need it, understand?"

The thought made him shiver – he wasn't supposed to even ask about coming unless he really needed to? How cruel his Daddy was, and yet how kind to let him come in the shower, and hadn't his father been so much crueler! Pavel nodded obediently, contrite and ashamed to have thought his Daddy cruel. "I'm sorry, Daddy," he whispered. It was nice to have a Daddy who would really take proper care of him, for the first time in a very long time.

Daddy nodded and led him over to the bed, laying him down gently. "Now spread your legs for Daddy," came the order, and Pavel bit his lip and spread his legs wide, feeling exposed and very naughty indeed.

"Like this, Daddy?" he asked uncertainly, and relaxed when Daddy nodded.

He tensed and cried out again immediately when Daddy bent down and started licking his asshole. "Daddy!" he screamed loudly. "No, Daddy, it's dirty, please!" Pavel whimpered even as he thrust against Daddy's hot, wet tongue all over his sensitive hole.

Daddy laughed. "No, little boy, I just cleaned you here quite thoroughly," he promised, and then went right back to licking Pavel's hole like it was the tastiest treat.

Pavel cried out and thrust frantically against Daddy's tongue, clenching his fingers in the bedclothes to keep from touching his cock as he suspected that Daddy would not be pleased if he came again just now. "Please Daddy, please, it's so good, please, I need to co-o-ome!"

"Not yet, little boy," Daddy said, chuckling again roughly. "I'm going to open up your ass with my fingers now and then put my cock inside you, and once I'm inside you, little boy, you can come and come as much as you need to." Daddy bent to his task again, licking and licking and driving Pavel crazy, only this time he added a finger slicked with lubricant as well, thrusting his finger firmly into Pavel's virgin ass.

Pavel cried out eagerly. "Daddy, Daddy, that's, I'm so full inside, please, more, pleeeease, fill me up!" Pavel begged, switching to Russian accidentally on the last bit and not even hearing himself as he begged.

Daddy seemed to understand, though, and he laughed at Pavel. "Oh, I'll fill you up," Daddy promised, and kissed him hard, pressing a second finger inside Pavel.

Gasping, Pavel thrust hard on Daddy's fingers, eyes wide and sightless in his needy arousal. "Daddy, Daddy!" He moaned, feeling every moment of it, of his ass being gently urged open by Daddy's thick, thick fingers, understanding now that he was being prepared to take Daddy's thick, thick cock. "Please, soon, in me, Daddy? Please?"

"Oh yes," Daddy growled his agreement and Pavel let out a needy little whine. "Very soon, little boy." Daddy kissed him hard and pulled his fingers from Pavel's ass, but before Pavel could even squeak a protest, Daddy's cock was inside him, filling him in a way that Pavel had never been filled before, and it felt so right, and it was right, he was always supposed to be right here, under Daddy, pinned by Daddy's weight and Daddy's need and Daddy's cock thrusting and rubbing over that sensitive little gland inside his ass.

"Daddy!" he screamed, and came hard the moment Daddy's cock was fully inside his ass. He was still hard, though, even after coming twice, and he knew he was going to come one more time when Daddy did. He wanted that more than anything, more than his own coming, he wanted Daddy's come inside him, and so instinctively he clenched his ass as hard as he could around Daddy's cock and eagerly met the rough thrust of Daddy's hips with the rough thrust of his own.

Daddy screamed out loud and brought his hand down sharply on Pavel's thigh. "Fuck, good little boy, do that again!" Daddy snapped, and Pavel did, tightening his ass and moaning loudly. Daddy groaned, a guttural sort of sound, and started thrusting even harder, even faster.

Pavel screamed again, needily. "Daddy, Daddy, come, please fill me up with your come, pleeeease!" He panted and gasped for breath, feeling tears in his eyes and on his cheeks.

"Yes, yes, Pavel!" Daddy came hard inside him and Pavel screamed one more time and came hard all over his belly and Daddy's. He wrapped himself around Daddy, arms and legs both, and clung desperately, shivering.

"Daddy, Daddy," he whimpered, kissing and kissing, totally spent.

Daddy's hand came up to stroke his hair. "Good boy, you're a very good little boy," Daddy praised, and kissed him, unaccountably sweetly. "You're Daddy's good little boy," Daddy promised, and hearing it, Pavel shivered and whimpered softly and clung to him even harder, rubbing their cheeks together.

A sudden yawn split Pavel's face in two and Daddy chuckled roughly. "Poor little lad, I've tuckered you out." Daddy slid his cock from Pavel's ass and Pavel mewled a sleepy protest, but Daddy just cuddled him close and pulled the covers over them. "It's time for little boys to go to sleep, Pavel," Daddy said.

Pavel nodded and leaned up to kiss Daddy on the cheek. "I love you, Daddy," Pavel said in a little boy voice, then yawned again with a little squeak and dropped off to sleep to the feeling of Daddy stroking his fingertips over and over Pavel's smooth cheek.

2008 Wrap-Up Meme (stolen from adbaculum)

isidore13@gmail.com — Sat, 03 Jan 2009 07:06:25 GMT

1. What did you do in 2008 that you'd never done before?
Lost 40 pounds.

2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I mostly kept to them. The resolutions will remain the same, as I still have so much more work to do - and they're all available in the 126 by age 30 goal list I posted.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Nope!

4. Did anyone close to you die?
No.

5. What countries did you visit?
None.

6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008?
A swimming pool.

7. What date from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
May 15.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Losing 40 pounds.

9. What was your biggest failure?
Work-related.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
I had surgery in March for a deviated septum, if that counts?

11. What was the best thing you bought?
Games to distract me, I suppose.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
Nicole Hood. Meghan McGifford.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Sarah Frith. Edna Chapman. Others who might read this journal, so I won't name other names.

14. Where did most of your money go?
Junk I don't need. Car.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Seeing my friends in October. Sister's fiance calling to ask my father for permission.

16. What song will always remind you of 2008?
Live Your Life by T.I. and Rihanna

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
i. happier or sadder? Far happier
ii. thinner or fatter? Fatter, probably
iii. richer or poorer? Poorer

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
laughing, keeping my dignity, ignoring toxic people

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
allowing toxic people to hurt me, stayed home when I should have worked

20. How will you be spending Christmas?
Spent it at home, with most of my family. Had a really, really happy Christmas... the happiest I can recall, but that's almost always true.

21. How will you be spending New Year's?
Spent it at home, talking to my friends. Had a sip of cheap champagne with my family to celebrate the new year.

22. Did you fall in love in 2008?
Nope.

23. How many one-night stands?
None.

24. What was your favorite TV program?
House, Leverage.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
I don't hate her... I just... won't ever let her back in my life again. Which, I didn't feel that way about her this time last year. Mostly, this time last year, I was too scared of losing my job,

26. What was the best book you read?
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, The Essential Calvin and Hobbes

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?
I didn't have any, really.

28. What did you want and get?
Happiness. Weight loss. More energy and stamina. A future.

29. What did you want and not get?
A pool.

30. What was your favorite film of this year?
The Queen

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I think I went out to dinner, and iirc, I got a step counter, which was what I wanted.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Getting a pool!

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008?
Whatever Fits.

34. What kept you sane?
the support of my friends, who were, as always, incredibly understanding and patient. the support of my parents, who were ready to go to battle for me (literally!)

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
No one, really.

37. Who did you miss?
D. S. One of my kids from where I used to work. I miss him very much.

38. Who was the best new person you met?
Adamma

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008:
Don't let yourself get down just because there are toxic people you can't get away from. Look forward to when you can get away from them.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
"Letting them know we're gonna stand our ground
Lift your hands high and wave them proud
Take a deep breath and say it loud
Never can, never will, can't hold us down."

Dear Yuletide Writer

isidore13@gmail.com — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 05:34:27 GMT

Hi! :D

Thank you for writing fic for me!

Squicks:
I covered the really big squick in my notes; I hate unhappy endings.

Additionally, please don't include death, rape, drugs, scat, water sports, vomit, or necro. No angst without a happy ending. I don't like non-con and I only like dubious consent when it's made clear that both parties actually really want it. I also don't like old people sex. My age limit is about 45 on that one (not old, I know, but. Yeah).

Things I really, really like:
I like romance and porn to go with it. Some of my favorite kinks: spanking, bondage, CBT, slavefic, D/s, sounding, figging, feathers, sensation play, orgasm control, full-body control, to name a few. I do like a little angst in the fluff to balance things out, but I want the characters to be happy by the end of the fic (ideally also falling in love).

For plot ideas: I love fics where one or both parties thinks they can't have the other, and of course angsts about it awhile before they live happily (and smuttily, mmm) ever after! I love detention fic, forced marriage/bonding, fics where the couple starts out disliking each other and ends up in love, and Cinderella fics.

I like frottage as well as anal or vaginal sex, or oral, or oral/anal, or 69... the general idea here is, mmmmmmmorgasms.

My favourite thing about fics is that they make me smile, that there's a touch of romance or longing or humour, and that the characters are happy in the end.

Arthurian Legend
I've loved the idea of Arthur/Lancelot since I knew slash existed. When I first really learned about the legend of Arthur in high school, I always found the relationship between Arthur and Lancelot really interesting - far more interesting than either of their relationships with Guinevere. I guess I was always really a slasher at heart. Any interaction between them would be fine; maybe a post-battle chat in the woods while dinner's cooking? Or, again post-battle, the adrenaline rush causes them the climb into bed with each other.

The Big Bang Theory
I've kind of wanted Sheldon/Penny from the very beginning, just because I find personalities like Sheldon's intriguing and I love to see typical people interact with them. Sheldon is clearly on a whole other plane of existence. That said, a gen fic about Sheldon and perhaps his thoughts on the change wrought by adding a pretty girl to his tight-knit little clique would interesting.

Little House series
I'd really love to see Almanzo and Laura's wedding night. I'd like to read about Almanzo making love to Laura for the first time, and was Almanzo a virgin when he did it? What did Laura think of sex her first time? Was it HER first time? Was Almanzo gentle and sweet? Was Laura a rambunctious little minx? Were they both eager for it? You don't have to answer all these questions, of course! I just think it'd be an awesome fic to read.

RPF - British Actors
As I said, it would be awesome if you could do Alan Rickman/Daniel Radcliffe. There is no particular artistic reason behind my preference for this pairing, I just think it'd be really hot. I like the idea of Alan surprising Daniel on opening night of Equus; I also like the idea of them getting together on the set of Harry Potter. I do NOT want a Harry/Snape style fic; Alan and Daniel are much different people from Harry and Snape, the lack of magic is only the most obvious difference.

10 (more) Drabbles

isidore13@gmail.com — Tue, 14 Oct 2008 05:10:03 GMT

TITLE: 10 Drabbles
AUTHOR: isidore13
PAIRING: House/Wilson
RATING: R/NC-17
WARNINGS: Spoilers up to today's episode are totally possible. So. Yeah. Also gay sex. I wrote this before today's episode though so it's not quite compliant.
SUMMARY: For the music drabble meme. thingie. 10 drabbles from songs on my playlist, random songs.
DISCLAIMER: House, M.D. is not mine, 'cos it'd be way smuttier if it was, and also less medical. So, arguably suckier.
NOTES: The drabbles are totally not at all interconnected.

The Rules:
1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.
2. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.
3. Write a drabble/ficlet related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards! (Yeah, I totally broke this rule. Like, completely.)
4. Do ten of these, then post them.

1. Kryptonite, 3 Doors Down, Better Life

The first time they tumbled into bed together House thought he'd finally found someone who'd stick with him this time. After all, Wilson had been putting up with his personality for the better part of a year, now. And sure, Wilson was married and so was House, but what did that matter, really? Stacey was getting boring anyway, even if she did still have great tits.

House had been planning out the divorce in his head right up until Wilson sat him down for a "talk". Wilson wasn't gay and last night had just been hormones and alcohol, hadn't it?

Of course it had. What else would it have possibly been, true love?

2. U Remind Me, Usher, 8701

Wilson couldn't look at House, these days, without thinking of Amber.

Her death really wasn't in any way House's fault. It wasn't.

But it was House's fault that Wilson had been starting to feel... things. Things about House that had been making him seek out Amber more and more, if only to make himself forget House.

When she passed away the grief had been very strong. He had - he did - still love Amber. It wouldn't be very respectful of her memory if he took up with House so soon after she'd passed, and Wilson wasn't sure he could be around House without wanting more than friendship. So he'd left.

Oh, all the reasons he gave House were absolutely true, of course.

But they weren't the real reasons.

3. The One, Backstreet Boys, Millennium

House had rarely been truly happy. He could count the number of times he'd really felt genuine happiness on one hand.

The first time had been when he married Stacey, despite all the times his father had told him that no woman would ever be able to put up with him with him long enough to even consider marriage.

The second time had been when he earned tenure at Princeton. It meant that pretty much no matter how horrible a person he was, he'd still have a job and get to solve the interesting cases.

The third time had been when he met Wilson.

This was the fourth time, and it seemed fitting that it had taken place in Wilson's bed, in Wilson's arms.

4. Drive, Incubus, Make Yourself

It had been more than a week since House had taken his last Vicodin. More than a week since the last time he'd needed a Vicodin.

The freedom was - damn it, he was going to say it - exhilarating. He went running everywhere, for the first time in so many years, even down to the drugstore for a newspaper in the morning, just to feel the sweat pouring down his face and his calf cramp up - his calf. Not his thigh.

His thigh didn't hurt at all.

5. Genie in a Bottle, Christina Aguilera, Christina Aguilera

House was licking whipped cream from the inside of an eclair. Licking and licking, his tongue pink and very long. And pink. And deft.

Wilson crossed his legs and glared. "You could just bite the end off, you know," he said, flicking his newspaper irritably.

"I could, but that wouldn't annoy you nearly as much, would it?" House said with a smirk, and blew a kiss at him from across the table.

He really was very put-upon, actually. Between the constant sexual undertones in the conversation and the constant fratboy pranking, living with House was exhausting.

6. Redneck Woman, Gretchen Wilson, Here for the Party

House had never been the white picket fence type, as anyone could guess after talking to him for more than thirty seconds.

He had, however, always kind of liked the idea of spending the rest of his life learning the very best ways to annoy the crap out of someone. He hated people in general, but they were also almost always the most complex of puzzles, whether you were looking at a patient or a lover.

It was a shame that he hadn't really finished solving the puzzle of Stacey when she'd... well, not really betrayed him, but that's what it had felt like. He'd been very, very close to solving it, though.

Cameron, Foreman, and Chase had been disgustingly easy to solve, and Cuddy wasn't even worth discussing - she was almost too simple. He had her figured out within five minutes of meeting her.

Wilson had been pretty simple to figure out in the beginning, too, actually, but the trouble with the Wilson-puzzle was that Wilson kept adding new bits to it.

House rather thought he could spend the rest of his life trying to figure that out.

7. So Unsexy, Alanis Morissette, Under Rug Swept

Every time Wilson picked someone over him, it felt like rejection.

House was very careful to never, ever analyse why. They were both straight. Totally straight. Even if they did both subscribe to the same dirty gay porno magazines (House had never really bothered to hide his, because Stacey had liked to look at them too). Even if they did both think Chase would make a really hot cabana boy under different circumstances.

And even if they had blown each other twice.

One swallow doesn't make a summer, and four doesn't make a gay relationship.

But it didn't change the fact that he was self-centered and selfish, and damn it, Wilson was his friend first, husband/boyfriend/whatever else to whoever else second.

8. I Know, Dionne Farris, Wild Seed, Wild Flower

They were friends, first of all, before everything else. That was why Wilson never quite managed not to answer the phone when House called him, because usually it was friendly talk. Well, as friendly as talking with Gregory House ever got, anyway.

Every once in a while, though, the phone would ring, and it would be House on the other end only not quite. His voice would be just a little more raspy, his breath coming a little quicker.

Then Wilson would pitch his own voice differently in response, and soon enough they were talking dirty to each other, listening to each other rub off noisily. Wilson always saw his cock sliding into House's ass when he closed his eyes.

Wilson's second wife had caught them. She hadn't been all that surprised when she'd learned it was House on the other end of the call - and Wilson hadn't been surprised when her half of the closet was empty when he got home from work the next day.

9. Secret Garden, Bruce Springsteen, Greatest Hits

House had a funny way of opening up to people. He had no trouble at all showing people the worst parts of himself, the angry, bitter parts, the part of him that wouldn't hesitate to poke the most wounded part of you, once he'd found it - and he had an uncanny way of finding it almost without trying.

The parts he didn't like to show were the good parts. He didn't like admitting at all that he might enjoy your company - let alone any kind of deeper feeling like love. He didn't like people to know that actually, he quite liked kids. They tended to be more honest than adults, where it counted and where it didn't.

That didn't mean he wanted any of his own.

Wilson liked to think he was one of the few that House had really ever opened his heart to. After all, he'd admitted once (even if it had been reluctant) that Wilson was worth something to him.

That was why Wilson found himself back at House's door after their trip back to House's hometown. He realised he needed House just as badly (just as unhealthily?) as House needed him.

10. Umbrella, Rihanna, Good Girl Gone Bad

It was odd how he'd never really noticed it before, but Wilson had stood with him longer than anyone else in his life.

Of course he hadn't thought about it until Wilson was gone, was refusing to see or talk to him.

He'd always known he really needed Wilson, but he'd never let himself think about why, until Wilson wasn't there to be needed. It became plainly obvious why he needed Wilson the first time he woke up with stained sheets and a dream memory of his cock in Wilson's mouth.

Now all he had to do was set about getting Wilson to realise that while they might not be good at being friends, he was sure they'd be really fucking brilliant as lovers.

OMG, Fic.

isidore13@gmail.com — Mon, 13 Oct 2008 22:39:17 GMT

Title: 10 Drabbles
Author: isidore13
Pairing: Shawn/Lassiter
Rating: R/NC-17
Disclaimer: Psych belongs to the USA Network and not to me, sadly. Or not sadly. However you want to look at it.
Notes: These are totally unrelated to each other.

The Rules:
1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.
2. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.
3. Write a drabble/ficlet related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards! (Yeah, I totally broke this rule. Like, completely.)
4. Do ten of these, then post them.

1. King of Wishful Thinking, Go West, Indian Summer

He didn't need Spencer, he told himself on the third day Spencer was gone. He really didn't. And it didn't matter how many times O'Hara and Vick both gave him those knowing glances, he knew very well that he didn't need anybody.

Wasn't that what Victoria had told him before she left anyway? "You don't need anyone, do you, Carlton? You're perfect just like you are." She'd been scoffing, but it was true. Carlton Lassiter never let himself need anyone.

So clearly this wasn't worry he was feeling, or anything silly like that. Clearly.

Just because Shawn - Spencer - had apparently disappeared off the face of the earth, didn't mean Carlton missed him or the ridiculous way he used to call Carlton Lassy. He didn't miss Shawn falling into his arms nearly every time he had one of those stupid episodes. He didn't miss Shawn's crazy theories and how they always turned out to be true.

He didn't miss any of it.

2. The Remedy (I Won't Worry), Jason Mraz, Waiting for my Rocket to Come

Shawn had a hell of a time convincing Lassy that he wasn't hallucinating.

They'd both been drunk, of course, for the first time. Well. Okay. Lassy had been drunk. Shawn had been just a little tipsy. Maybe every once in a while he'd trip over his toes, but that wasn't important.

Anyway.

The next morning had been, not the worst morning after he'd ever had, but pretty high up there. Still, there'd been a naked Lassy in the bed with him, and even better they were at Lassy's apartment, so Lassy hadn't been able to run away.

He'd been totally convinced that nothing had happened, though. Which was hilarious. After that Lassy had been really worried about what the other detectives would think.

Foolish man. McNab had been dating his boyfriend for months and no one even blinked an eye.

3. Letter to Me, Brad Paisley, 5th Gear

This was all Shawn's fault.

Well, what part of his troubles wasn't Shawn's fault these days, really?

But there was no way he'd've thought of writing a letter to his 17-year-old self without Shawn's really annoying nagging about some kind of connection with inner child or some other nonsense.

So. What would he say to his 17-year-old self?

First, he'd prove it was him by mentioning the Playgirls hidden in the trunk of his Chevy. He'd always been the suspicious type even as a kid, and he'd've wanted some kind of proof.

Then, he'd give himself a verbal smack around the head for getting involved with that pretty boy with the knapsack full of drugs.

Maybe not a very hard smack, though... after all, that idiot was why he became a detective in the first place.

He'd end with comforting words about Victoria, and promise that he ended up happily nagged by someone he loved - but he'd never say who. The kid wouldn't believe a word of it, anyway.

4. Clumsy, Fergie, The Dutchess

No one would have believed it, but Shawn fell deeply in love all the time. Shawn really wasn't into fucking around - every time he had sex he always thought he'd end up loving whoever it was forever.

It just hadn't ever really worked out that way.

But it shouldn't stop him trying, should it? No, of course not.

It was a little surprising when it ended up being Lassy.

Surprising, but genuinely awesome, and not just because Lassy was a veritable tiger in the sack. He was so good it required the use of a cliche. But it wasn't just that. Lassy knew just when he really needed an ego boost (almost never) and when he needed to be brought down a peg or two (also almost never, really, he had just the right amount of self-love, really, only Lassy didn't seem to see it that way). And, after a while, he wasn't even all that shy about letting Shawn comfort him once in a while.

Usually Shawn left after the first fight, but when he and Lassy fought they always ended up fucking (over the couch, over the kitchen sink, on the kitchen table, on the kitchen counter, whatever was nearest). And even Shawn couldn't leave a man he'd just let fuck him into next Thursday.

Really, that was why they made it work this time.

Really.

5. Good Vibrations, The Beach Boys, Smiley Smile

He really hated the colorful clothes Shawn wore.

No, really. They hurt his eyes, and they always had, from the very beginning.

So was it really a surprise that they were the first thing Carlton went for that night? And if, in the morning, it ended up that Shawn didn't really want more, he could always claim that he'd been totally blinded by the chartreuse nightmare ("It's back in style, Lassy!") and therefore unable to think straight, he'd been obliged to rip the clothes right off of Shawn's back.

And of course, once he was down to his hot pink underwear ("What? It was on sale!"), what else could Carlton do but suck his cock? It was all thick and hard and right there, after all.

6. Unwritten, Natasha Bedingfield, Unwritten

Years from now, Carlton Lassiter would deny unequivocally that he'd ever said such a thing by accident. Of course he loved Shawn, and had for years. It was ridiculous for anyone to think he'd said it by accident. After all, Carlton Lassiter didn't even buy socks without doing all the necessary research. There was no possible way he'd ever claim to love someone he might not.

Years from now, he'd even believe that to be true.

But just at this moment, staring down at Shawn, whose head was on his pillow, whose mouth was open and grinning foolishly up at him, he couldn't believe he'd just said that. They were only using each other for sex. That was what they had agreed to. Shawn was never supposed to hear about any of those insane "feelings" Carlton totally wasn't having. They were just sex buddies. Really, they were.

Shawn had moved in two days later and never left.

7. Barbie Girl, Aqua, Aquarium

The stilleto heels were really, really uncomfortable. Also the corset. Shawn was starting to wonder why he'd ever agreed to go undercover into the gay S&M bar.

Lassy tugged at Shawn's leash sharply, looking back at Shawn with an unbearably smug smirk. "Heel, pet," he said, clearly enjoying the whole thing.

Shawn would have to murder him later. Right now he had to keep his cover.

Lassy sat down at one of the booths and smacked Shawn's arse hard. "On your knees, slut!" he ordered cheerfully, and Shawn had to grit his teeth hard to keep from saying anything but "Yes, sir" as he slid to his knees on the floor at Lassy's feet. Murder would be too quick.

Later on, in the bathroom, with Lassy's cock shoved up his arse and their suspect wanking beside them, Shawn figured he just couldn't kill someone who'd given him the best fuck of his whole life.

8. Let that Pony Run, Pam Tillis, Homeward Looking Angel

Victoria had run off with the bartender from his favorite tavern.

That was the reason they'd separated, and a pretty good one, Lassiter felt. Still, there had been hope, on his part, in the beginning. That she'd come to her senses and come running back to him, and thank god they hadn't gone through with the divorce.

A couple of years seemed like long enough to wait for her. It was time, he supposed, to let her go.

Even losing his house was symbolic. That life was over, now, and hopefully what came next would be better.

9. Whenever, Wherever, Shakira, Laundry Service

Ireland was even prettier than Shawn had imagined it would be. The contours of the land as he ran his hand down them, smooth as silk and lightly haired, the differing colors that contrasted and blended to form the perfect whole. Even the scars on his Ireland's body were perfect, imperfections that meant a life had been lived, and lived well. And the round one over his Ireland's heart... Shawn lay his hand over that scar, and then pressed a kiss there. "God, Lassy, you..." Shawn sighed and closed his eyes when Lassy's fingers slid into his hair.

10. When You Walk in the Room, Pam Tillis, Sweetheart's Dance

It was no secret to Gus that Shawn was totally infatuated with Carlton Lassiter. Not when Shawn's eye was always on Lassiter whenever they were in the same room. Nor was it a surprise when Shawn decided that the reason he liked to sit on Lassiter's desk was to stare at O'Hara (who was, to be fair, totally hot).

Shawn had always been completely oblivious - to mostly everything. It made sense, actually. You can't spend that much of your time focused on the details of a situation and also take in the big picture.

It wasn't until Lassiter threw himelf at Shawn (literally) that Gus knew Lassiter was just as infatuated with Shawn. He was ashamed of himself for having missed it, really - how many men does a straight man press up against a car and let himself slide all along their body? Not many, at least, not many for Gus. So yeah, in retrospect it was totally obvious that Lassiter and Shawn were completely hot for each other.

There was no use trying to tell Shawn that, though. Shawn was thoroughly convinced that his affection was all for O'Hara.

Shawn always had to come to these conclusions by himself, and frankly Gus was happy to leave the subject alone.

Meme! from lady_yare

isidore13@gmail.com — Mon, 13 Oct 2008 05:10:49 GMT

RULES:
• Pick your birth month.
• Strike out anything that doesn't apply to you.
• Bold (or italicize) the five-ten that best apply to you.
• Copy to your own journal, with all twelve months under a lj-cut.
• ~~Tag 5 people from your friends list.~~ If you wanna do it go ahead. :D

MARCH: ~~Attractive personality~~. ~~Sexy~~. Affectionate. Shy and reserved. Secretive. Naturally honest, generous and sympathetic. Loves peace and serenity. Sensitive to others. Loves to serve others. Easily angered. Trustworthy. Appreciative and returns kindness. Observant and assesses others. ~~Revengeful~~. Loves to dream and fantasize. Loves travelling. ~~Loves attention~~. Hasty decisions in choosing partners. Loves home decors. ~~Musically talented~~. Loves special things. Moody.

JANUARY: Stubborn and hard-hearted. Ambitious and serious. Loves to teach and be taught. Always looking at people's flaws and weaknesses. Likes to criticize. Hardworking and productive. Smart, neat and organized. Sensitive and has deep thoughts. Knows how to make others happy. Quiet unless excited or tensed. Rather reserved. Highly attentive. Resistant to illnesses but prone to colds. Romantic but has difficulties expressing love. Loves children. Loyal. Has great social abilities yet easily jealous. Very stubborn and money cautious.
-
FEBRUARY: Abstract thoughts. Loves reality and abstract. Intelligent and clever. Changing personality. Attractive. Sexy. Temperamental. Quiet, shy and humble. Honest and loyal. Determined to reach goals. Loves freedom. Rebellious when restricted. Loves aggressiveness. Too sensitive and easily hurt. Gets angry really easily but does not show it. Dislikes unnecessary things. Loves making friends but rarely shows it. Daring and stubborn. Ambitious. Realizes dreams and hopes. Sharp. Loves entertainment and leisure. Romantic on the inside not outside. Superstitious and ludicrous. Spendthrift. Tries to learn to show emotions.
-
MARCH: Attractive personality. Sexy. Affectionate. Shy and reserved. Secretive. Naturally honest, generous and sympathetic. Loves peace and serenity. Sensitive to others. Loves to serve others. Easily angered. Trustworthy. Appreciative and returns kindness. Observant and assesses others. Revengeful. Loves to dream and fantasize. Loves travelling. Loves attention. Hasty decisions in choosing partners. Loves home decors. Musically talented. Loves special things. Moody.
-
APRIL: Active and dynamic. Decisive and hasty but tends to regret. Attractive and affectionate to oneself. Strong mentality. Loves attention. Diplomatic. Consoling, friendly and solves people's problems. Brave and fearless. Adventurous. Loving and caring. Suave and generous. Emotional. Aggressive. Hasty. Good memory. Moving. Motivates oneself and others. Sickness usually of the head and chest. Sexy in a way that only their lover can see.
-
MAY: Stubborn and hard-hearted. Strong-willed and highly motivated. Sharp thoughts. Easily angered. Attracts others and loves attention. Deep feelings. Beautiful physically and mentally. Firm Standpoint. Needs no motivation. Easily consoled. Systematic (left brain). Loves to dream. Strong clairvoyance. Understanding. Sickness usually in the ear and neck. Good imagination. Good physical. Weak breathing. Loves literature and the arts. Loves travelling. Dislike being at home. Restless. Not having many children. Hardworking. High spirited. Spendthrift.
-
JUNE: Thinks far with vision. Easily influenced by kindness. Polite and soft-spoken. Having ideas. Sensitive. Active mind. Hesitating, tends to delay. Choosy and always wants the best. Temperamental. Funny and humorous. Loves to joke. Good debating skills. Talkative. Daydreamer. Friendly. Knows how to make friends. Able to show character. Easily hurt. Prone to getting colds. Loves to dress up. Easily bored. Fussy. Seldom shows emotions. Takes time to recover when hurt. Brand conscious. Executive. Stubborn.
-
JULY: Fun to be with. Secretive. Difficult to fathom and to be understood. Quiet unless excited or tensed. Takes pride in oneself. Has reputation. Easily consoled. Honest. Concerned about people's feelings. Tactful. Friendly. Approachable. Emotional temperamental and unpredictable. Moody and easily hurt. Witty and sparkly. Not revengeful. Forgiving but never forgets. Dislikes nonsensical and unnecessary things. Guides others physically and mentally. Sensitive and forms impressions carefully. Caring and loving. Treats others equally. Strong sense of sympathy. Wary and sharp. Judges people through observations. Hardworking. No difficulties in studying. Loves to be alone. Always broods about the past and the old friends. Likes to be quiet. Homely person. Waits for friends. Never looks for friends. Not aggressive unless provoked. Prone to having stomach and dieting problems. Loves to be loved. Easily hurt but takes long to recover.
-
AUGUST: Loves to joke. Attractive. Suave and caring. Brave and fearless. Firm and has leadership qualities. Knows how to console others. Too generous and egoistic. Takes high pride in oneself. Thirsty for praises. Extraordinary spirit. Easily angered. Angry when provoked. Easily jealous. Observant. Careful and cautious. Thinks quickly. Independent thoughts. Loves to lead and to be led. Loves to dream. Talented in the arts, music and defense. Sensitive but not petty. Poor resistance against illnesses. Learns to relax. Hasty and trusty. Romantic. Loving and caring. Loves to make friends.
-
SEPTEMBER: Suave and compromising. Careful, cautious and organized. Likes to point out people's mistakes. Likes to criticize. Stubborn. Quiet but able to talk well. Calm and cool. Kind and sympathetic. Concerned and detailed. Loyal but not always honest. Does work well. Very confident. Sensitive. Good memory. Clever and knowledgeable. Loves to look for information. Must control oneself when criticizing. Able to motivate oneself. Understanding. Fun to be around. Secretive. Loves leisure and traveling. Hardly shows emotions. Tends to bottle up feelings. Very choosy, especially in relationships. Systematic.
-
OCTOBER: Loves to chat. Loves those who loves them. Loves to take things at the center. Inner and physical beauty. Lies but doesn't pretend. Gets angry often. Treats friends importantly. Always making friends. Easily hurt but recovers easily. Daydreamer. Opinionated. Does not care of what others think. Emotional. Decisive. Strong clairvoyance. Loves to travel, the arts and literature. Touchy and easily jealous. Concerned. Loves outdoors. Just and fair. Spendthrift. Easily influenced. Easily loses confidence. Loves children.
-
NOVEMBER: Has a lot of ideas. Difficult to fathom. Thinks forward. Unique and brilliant. Extraordinary ideas. Sharp thinking. Fine and strong clairvoyance. Can become good doctors. Dynamic in personality. Secretive. Inquisitive. Knows how to dig secrets. Always thinking. Less talkative but amiable. Brave and generous. Patient. Stubborn and hard-hearted. If there is a will, there is a way. Determined. Never give up. Hardly becomes angry unless provoked. Loves to be alone. Thinks differently from others. Sharp-minded. Motivates oneself. Does not appreciate praises. High-spirited. Well-built and tough. Deep love and emotions. Romantic. Uncertain in relationships. Homely. Hardworking. High abilities. Trustworthy. Honest and keeps secrets. Not able to control emotions. Unpredictable.
-
DECEMBER: Loyal and generous. Sexy. Patriotic. Active in games and interactions. Impatient and hasty. Ambitious. Influential in organizations. Fun to be with. Loves to socialize. Loves praises. Loves attention. Loves to be loved. Honest and trustworthy. Not pretending. Short tempered. Changing personality. Not egotistic. Take high pride in oneself. Hates restrictions. Loves to joke. Good sense of humor.

OMGUPDATE

isidore13@gmail.com — Sun, 31 Aug 2008 06:04:36 GMT

AND DRABBLE! :o

Harry was not looking forward to spending the night in the hospital wing. Aunt Petunia had never been very thrilled to look after him, and he didn't really expect Madam Pomfrey would feel different.

So it was a big surprise when she tucked him in and gave him a brusque kiss on the cheek. "There. Now, you let me know if it hurts, Potter," she said, then stroked Harry's hair and bustled into her office.

A curious, warm, fluttery feeling started in his chest, right where his heart was. He closed his eyes and let the warm feeling lull him to sleep.

Found it while I was unpacking a box.

Dear Bosslady

isidore13@gmail.com — Sat, 19 Apr 2008 03:26:09 GMT

Dear Bosslady,

Thank you for not talking to me about the problems you were having with my work and instead going straight to the principal.

Thank you, again, for not telling me the full truth when I came to you - three times - requesting input on how to improve my work strategies and whether I was doing the things you required of me.

Thank you for not listening when I told you that the reason being near me overwhelmed the autistic boy's senses was because I was the one to take him to P.E. even though I told you I did not think he would be successful in a classroom full of 90 screaming children. So he learned to associate me with excruciating pain. Is it any wonder that being around me 'sets him off'?

Thank you for talking about me behind my back to my coworkers, which has left the impression that because you clearly do not respect me, they do not have to. This has led to my coworkers contradicting me daily in front of the children, sometimes snapping at me rudely.

Thank you for then telling me that I don't know how to control the behaviors of the children when you have allowed my authority with them to be questioned on a daily basis.

And, finally, thank you for telling me that you would be giving me a review that says I met my job requirements, and then turning around and giving the principal a review that says I didn't, thus screwing me over for any job I might want in the school district in the near future and forcing me to quit at the end of the year.

You're a completely horrible boss and I really, sincerely dislike you to the bottom of my soul (but you'll never know it because I am actually a professional),

Me.

Killing the King

isidore13@gmail.com — Sun, 23 Dec 2007 13:46:00 GMT

Last night I had the weirdest dream... I dreamt that I was one of a group of people who had been charged with entombing the King of England alive. Like, right now, whoever's King, except of course that there is no King of England at the moment, and oddly at one point he was still a he but he took the form of one of my little girls from work.

But after that was just some random guy but for the purposes of the dream, he was King of England.

Anyway, we get to the place where he's to be entombed in a sarcophagus. He's scared but once we put him inside the thing he calms right down. He gets to has a flashlight and a velvet jewelbox (I dunno what's in it) and a book called 'The 456th' which is supposed to be about his future, his next week, but I don't know if it's about him being captured for his crimes or if it's a fictitious rendering of his 456th week as King, or what. Someone brings alcohol to give him but this is vetoed on account it'll make him suffer a whole lot less than the book and the flashlight will make him suffer less, so he's just given a sip.

Anyway then I am standing in the hidden room where the sarcophagus will be and I notice that the room is full of things he could get out with, and Detective Stabler assures me that he will not be able to open the sarcophagus once he is shut inside. I am relieved and then I wake up.

Quirks Meme

isidore13@gmail.com — Thu, 30 Aug 2007 02:05:48 GMT

The rules:
List seven habits/quirks/facts about yourself.
Tag seven people to do the same.
Do not tag the person who tagged you or say that you tag whoever wants to do it.

1. I am in love with Queen Elizabeth II. No, I seriously am.
2. I like to read history books of any sort and also meta.
3. I work with special needs children and no longer fear being bitten, as it's happened now more times than I care to count.
4. I willingly let my mouth get me in trouble.
5. I live with my parents by choice, not necessity.
6. I am fascinated by royalty from Queen Elizabeth II and backward. Not Prince Charles or Princes William and Harry, believe it or not. And the older the better. I want to learn the daily habits of Egbert Bretwalda.
7. I write gay porn.

I don't tag people, though. Ha.

Meme! from severus__snape

isidore13@gmail.com — Sat, 11 Aug 2007 04:30:18 GMT

Meme! from rushlight75

isidore13@gmail.com — Sat, 11 Aug 2007 04:30:16 GMT

Take the first sentence from the first post of every month in 2005.

January: ETA: OMG I WANT MY HARRY POTTER CROSS STITCH BOOK!!!!!

February: These statistics were generated using the LJ Stats Web Interface by mpnolan. Original idea from scrapdog's LJ Comment Stats Wizard.

March: TO EVERYONE ON MY FLIST!!!!

April: Two things today: Connexions was OMG SO MUCH FUN WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! :D:D:D:D

May: Thanks to some wonderful anonymouse :D (i love you so, whoever you are!) I have got information that there is now a Yahoo! Group (eta: per the Group TOS the link has been removed from this entry - Marcy, let me know if I'm still violating it before banning me, please) for Cambiare Podentes and also AYLNO.

June: 1.) Copy and paste this into your journal:

July: GOD Consultant: Thank you for calling GOD, this is your representative Mary speaking, what situation may I assist you with today?

August: True Story. A religion teacher assigned her class an essay on what makes a good Christian.

September: List 20 of your current favorite fictional character pairings (het, slash, canon or otherwise) in no particular order and then tag 4 people to do the same (which I, personally, never do *giggle*).

October: Whichever two win the most votes will be the main character in an original fic :D

November: RMS - Possible? One of the administrators likes me, she might have clout :D

December: Dear Santa...

So, apparently I do a shocking amount of memes... my poor flist. *giggle*

Meme! from all over

isidore13@gmail.com — Sat, 11 Aug 2007 04:30:15 GMT

Dear Santa...

Dear Santa,

This year I've been busy!

Last Sunday I caught a purse-snatcher who stole lady_yare's purse (30 points). Last Saturday I had a shoot-out with rival gang lords on the 5 near LA (-76 points). Last week I pulled over and changed swtalmnd's flat tire (15 points). In May I put gum in juice817's hair (-12 points). In July I gave change to a homeless guy (19 points).

Overall, I've been naughty (-24 points). For Christmas I deserve a spanking!

Sincerely,
isidore13

Job Sitch

isidore13@gmail.com — Sat, 11 Aug 2007 04:30:12 GMT

RMS - Possible? One of the administrators likes me, she might have clout :D
CTMS - Meh. Unlikely.
CeVMS - Unlikely. The guy doing the interviewing is the same one I bombed with this summer.

*hopes for RMS*

Random Reccage

isidore13@gmail.com — Sat, 11 Aug 2007 04:30:05 GMT

The Supper Club by
Summary: In school years, which were kind of like dog years, Andy and Allison still only lasted about five minutes.
Fandom: The Breakfast Club
Pairing: Andy/Bender
Rating: R

Meme! from venivincere

isidore13@gmail.com — Sat, 11 Aug 2007 04:29:50 GMT

True Story. A religion teacher assigned her class an essay on what makes a good Christian. One student wrote about praying nightly, say no to abortion, banning gay marriage, and donating money. The other student wrote about talking to God and allowing people to enjoy their lives, and supporting gay marriage. The day the teacher was to hand the papers back, she called up the second student and told him she would pray for him when he went to hell. The student asked why would he be going to hell, and why he got an F on his paper. The teacher told him that Catholicism is against gay marriage. The student looked at her for a minute, then said aloud, "I'm gay." The teacher kicked him out of class as if he had said fuck or worshiped Satan. A girl in the back of class who had a boyfriend and was obviously straight got up and left too.

If you would leave the classroom, repost this. It doesn't matter if you're straight, bi, or gay. It doesn't matter if you're catholic or not. Everyone is a human being and deserves happiness. But if you don't it doesn't mean you wouldn't, necessarily *has lazy flist* *giggles* ;;)

MIT Survey from juice817 and lady_yare and many others

isidore13@gmail.com — Sat, 11 Aug 2007 04:29:42 GMT

Meme! from tiranog

isidore13@gmail.com — Sat, 11 Aug 2007 04:29:41 GMT

*A Random Harry Potter Survey!*
Name	Isidore
Age	21
Birthday	March 25
Age when you first read Harry Potter	17
Favorite Book	OotP
Favorite Character(s)	Harry, Hermione, Draco, Snape, Bill
Favorite Proffesor(s)	Snape, Flitwick, Sprout
Favorite House	Hufflepuff
Favorite Quidditch Team	The girls' one. blushes
Favorite Couple	James/Lily, if you mean canon.
Favorite Magical Animal	Aragog
Favorite Magical Place	Hogwarts
Favorite Weasley	Bill
Favorite Pet	Crookshanks
Favorite Order Member	Bill
Favorite Class	Potions or Herbology
Favorite Wizarding Snack	Chocolate Frogs sound good.
Favorite Gryffindor Student	Heh.
Draco or Harry?	Both. At the same time.
H/Hr or R/Hr?	R/Hr
Snape or Lupin?	Both. With Draco and Harry. is ambitious
Crookshanks or Scabbers?	Crookshanks, obviously.
Hedwig or Pig?	Pig
Harry or Ron?	mmmmmmmmm
Crabbe or Goyle?	neither
Canon/Fanon Draco?	Canon
Canon/Fanon Snape?	Canon
D/Hr or D/G?	D/Hr!!!!!!!!
H/D or H/SS?	H/SS!!!!!!!!!
Your OTP?	Snarry, Dramione
Favorite Slytherin	Snape
Cho - annoying or not?	Annoying.
*Fanfiction*
Do you write Fanfiction?	Yes
Do you read Fanfition?	Yes
Favorite Fanfiction?	This is really too much to ask for. OMG.
Canon or Fanon?	Canon
One shot or Novel length?	Both
Fluff or Angst?	flangsmut
Darkfic?	not too dark.
Very Powerful Harry?	yes please!
Very Sexy Draco?	heh. canon!draco.
Gen, Het, or Slash?	All three
Fanfiction Petpeeves?	using the term "prequel" incorrectly.
*Books*
Did you Cry when Cedric Died?	no
Did you cry when Sirius Died?	yes
All time favorite part	In book five, the bit where Harry wakes up in a warm ball beneath his covers. cuddles
Were you mad about the whole H/C mistake?	I read that after the Correction.
Do you like Viktor Krum?	yes, he kicks arse.
Do you like Cho Chang?	not really
Do you like Fluer?	yes
Do you like Cedric?	not really
What did you think of the Prophecy?	interesting. pats harry
Which characters need more development?	Draco
Did Harry pass his O.W.Ls in Potions?	yes
Will Harry die or survive at the end of book 7?	survive, simply because i would have to kill Rowling if he dies.
Do you like the Marauders?	*yes blush* they were arseholes but i liked them.**
Light side or dark side?	light side
Who do you think is the HBP?	Hagrid
Who do you think will die in HBP?	Hagrid or Dumbledore
Who do you think Harry's new "love interest" is in HBP?	*Ginny or Luna sigh* no slash in canon.**
What do you think will be the "something huge" revealed about Lily Potter?	No clue.
Are you a Luna fan?	yes
Favorite Marauder?	James
Is Harry going to be back on the quidditch team?	yes
How well do you think Harry will cope with Sirius's death in HBP?	as well as any other person who loses a parent copes.
Do you think Harry will be even more angry in HBP than in OotP?	I dunno. He's earned it.
Will Ron or Hermione die in either of the next 2 books?	Ron will. sighs
How do you think Ron and Hermione will react when they find out about the prophecy?	They'll be on Harry's side, supporting him.
*Harry Potter Movies*
Do you like the movies as much as the books?	Yes
Hottest HP actor?	*Daniel Radcliffe is omgperv* and Alan Rickman**
Do you think Emma Watson is too girly for Hermione?	yes.
What do you think of Ruperts long hair in GoF?	i like it!
Daniel Radcliffe or Rupert Grint?	mmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Chris Columbus or Alfonso?	a combination of the two artistic approaches, please.
Was the warewolf too bald?	yes
What scene did they leave out in the movie you wish they hadn't?	who moony, wormtail, padfoot, and prongs are.
Favorite movie moment?	When Harry is OMGTOTALLYUNAFRAID of Lucius.
Least favorite movie moment?	the dueling scene
Favorite character in movie?	Harry, Snape
Favorite Movie?	Prisoner of Azkaban
Was that how you imagined the basalisk?	yes
Do you wish Richard Harris could still play Dumbledore?	yeah, a little.
Do you think Snape is sexy?	god yes.
Do you wish you looked like Emma Watson?	no
And for the lst question, how has Harry Potter changed your life?	I met some of the greatest people through the fandom ^_^
CREATE YOUR OWN! - or - GET PAID TO TAKE SURVEYS!

More crap about me.

isidore13@gmail.com — Sat, 11 Aug 2007 04:29:33 GMT

omg! *flails* my bank approved me for a credit card!!!!! I feel like Ford Prefect, except much more panicky. Who would approve a credit card for me?! Idiots, that's who. I mean. Wow. I'm so. *flails more*

Meme! from __goldie

isidore13@gmail.com — Sat, 11 Aug 2007 04:29:30 GMT

More crap about me.

isidore13@gmail.com — Sat, 11 Aug 2007 04:29:00 GMT

I have some thinking to do. I just read more carefully and discovered the nine-month assistanceship in France is an actual teaching position, wherein I'd have to make, like. Lesson plans. N stuff. Can I do that? Not now, very likely. Will I be able to do that in two or three years? It's possible.

Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

isidore13@gmail.com — Sat, 11 Aug 2007 04:28:40 GMT

W00T!

from naughtygoldie

isidore13@gmail.com — Sat, 11 Aug 2007 04:28:36 GMT

What year was it?
2001-2002 - only just barely. I've never been good at school. In my senior year they added a new section to the senior scrapbook - Personal World Memories. It was meant, of course, for clippings from 9/11.

What were your three favorite bands?
*sighs* *feels silly* *coughs*N Sync*coughs*, Alanis Morrissette, Kittie

What was your favorite outfit?
Jeans, t-shirt, coat

What was up with your hair?
It was all right. Cut it very bloody short in 10th grade, because I compromised with mom; I wanted to shave it all off.

Who were your best friends?
Asa and Cecilia

What did you do after school?
went home - I'm not a party girl

Where did you work?
Hastings - bof, and Albertson's

Did you take the bus?
no, mom drove me

Who did you have a crush on?
I don't even remember.

Did you fight with your parents?
god yes. still do.

Who did you have a CELEBRITY crush on?
*coughs*justintimberlake*coughs*

Did you smoke cigarettes?
god no.

Did you lug all of your books around in your backpack all day because you were too nervous to find your locker?
I did lug my books, but only because we weren't allowed to use lockers.

Did you have a 'clique'?
yes, but we didn't matter to anyone but us - and we liked it that way. But I never felt like I wasn't allowed to go somewhere - I hung out wherever I wanted to, and fuck everybody else.

Did you have "The Max" like Zach Kelly and Slater?
Amy's Ice Cream

Admit it, were you popular?
god no

Who did you want to be just like?
Nikki

What did you want to be when you grew up?
by that point I knew: a teacher

Where did you think you'd be at the age you are now?
about where I am.

from juice817

isidore13@gmail.com — Sat, 11 Aug 2007 04:28:33 GMT

You scored as Remus Lupin. Your alter ego is Remus Lupin. You are a wise and caring wizard and a good, loyal friend to boot. However sometimes in an effort to be liked by others you can let things slide by which ordinairly you would protest about.

</td>

Remus Lupin

95%

Draco Malfoy

85%

Harry Potter

80%

Ron Weasley

75%

Sirius Black

70%

Severus Snape

65%

Hermione Granger

60%

Albus Dumbledore

35%

Peter Pettigrew

20%

Lord Voldemort

15%

Your Harry Potter Alter Ego Is...?
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from juice817

isidore13@gmail.com — Sat, 11 Aug 2007 04:26:36 GMT

100 Years by Five for Fighting

"Every day's a new day...
15 there's still time for you
Time to buy and time to choose
Hey 15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live"

2004 was about thinking and reflecting - but isn't every year?

What 2004 Hit Song Are You?

LiveJournal Haiku!
Your name:	isidore13
Your haiku:	bed shudders no.and yes i know they've probably had sex in the tub
Username:

Created by Grahame

LiveJournal Haiku!
Your name:	isidore13
Your haiku:	writing yourself but i don't have the lovely anticipation
Username:

Created by Grahame

LiveJournal Haiku!
Your name:	isidore13
Your haiku:	in their oddly tall car by another band of rogue christian fundies when
Username:

Created by Grahame

LiveJournal Haiku!
Your name:	isidore13
Your haiku:	joey who never got enough love for being the band's slut.untitled you
Username:

Created by Grahame

LiveJournal Haiku!
Your name:	isidore13
Your haiku:	if you're like me and likely knew what i'd done so i couldn't go home
Username:

Created by Grahame