Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, written purely to entertain myself and (with any luck) a few others. The world and characters belong wholly to J.K. Rowling, and I lay no claim to them whatsoever! If you're reading this journal for non-fanfiction-related reasons, do not click, this will probably not be your cup of tea. If you are nodding impatiently because this is totally your cup of tea, I hope you enjoy and remember that all the fanfiction comes down on September 6th!

Public Service Announcement: After September 6th, there will be a PDF up here for a month that people can download and keep. I won't make the PDF until after the stories are all done and I won't be emailing the PDF to anyone - so now everyone knows what the deal is with the PDF, and will not email me asking for it! (Really, I have now automatically written an email to someone telling them they couldn't have it - when they hadn't asked for it. I was so, so embarrassed. I blame myself for being unclear before.)

Dedication: This is for blackbird0414 - happy birthday!

( Quality of Mercy Links )

( Quality of Mercy, R, Chapter 25 )

Hamnet the Laptop and I are now safely installed in our lovely new home, where we sit splendidly happy by the fireside and write and write. Living with Jennet Wilde and the Durham Lass is going very well so far, with many adventures had which I will write up another time and the beautiful security that I will always have someone to answer my strange questions.

For example...
SARAH (looking up randomly from reading): And what will you call your band?
THE DURHAM LASS (thoughtfully): The Dilemmons.

There is no band. There will never be a band. But I am glad it has a name.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, written purely to entertain myself and (with any luck) a few others. The world and characters belong wholly to J.K. Rowling, and I lay no claim to them whatsoever! If you're reading this journal for non-fanfiction-related reasons, do not click, this will probably not be your cup of tea. If you are nodding impatiently because this is totally your cup of tea, I hope you enjoy and remember that all the fanfiction comes down on September 6th!

Dedication: For mcollinknight - sorry about the banshee!

( Quality of Mercy, R, Chapter 24 )

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, written purely to entertain myself and (with any luck) a few others. The world and characters belong wholly to J.K. Rowling, and I lay no claim to them whatsoever! If you're reading this journal for non-fanfiction-related reasons, do not click, this will probably not be your cup of tea. If you are nodding impatiently because this is totally your cup of tea, I hope you enjoy and remember that all the fanfiction comes down on September 6th!

Dedication: For you all, hoping this will be your year.

( Quality of Mercy, Chapter Twenty-Three )

My sweet ones, I have now written much, much fic! And now there will be a brief intermission, probably with book reviews and Amusing Anecdotes of my Alarming Job Interviews, while I write the latest original.

For catfluff, since I noticed her voting on the poll. Hope the Big Apple's treating you well, chicken.

( Quality of Mercy 22, R )

Merry Christmas! This is for jess_bot.

( Quality of Mercy 21 )

Clearly, it is fate.

I came upon a description of Jo Walton's Tooth and Claw as 'Anthony Trollope, with dragons.' Plainly, this book and I were destined to be together for all eternity. Then I went to amazon, and they said that they would make me wait four to six weeks for the book. Obviously, I spurned this vile suggestion.

They offered me a shorter time with a secondhand book, but I haughtily declined. I must give this author my money! How else is she to become fabulously rich and famous and write me Anthony Trollope with werewolves, Anthony Trollope with elves and Anthony Trollope with vampire clergymen? (My whole soul cries out for vampire clergymen.) Hence I went to the bookshop and offered them money until they promised to have the book within ten days.

It's not extravagance: it's a present to myself for finishing the original! So I'd better do that, then.

This one is for the lovely meredyth_13, with best wishes for her Return to Health.

( Quality of Mercy 20, R, slash and het )

On the day of Maya's presentation of her dissertation:

Maya went to her computer, but it froze, and then lo, Maya went to the internet cafe, but it gave her a sign of doom, saying 'This printer is out of service.'

Hence Maya went to her college library, where unto her librarians came, and quoth, 'You have left your library card on your kitchen table. Be cursed, now and forever!'

Maya hailed a taxi cab and said unto it, 'Anywhere with a printer! Hades, if it has a printer!'

The dissertation printed, in Hades or otherwise, Maya hailed another cab, and tumbled, just in time, unbrushed, unfed and feeling a little distrait because of the day's events, into the Room of Judgement. Then she sat before the populace and quoth unto them the opening line of her dissertation: 'Let's talk about murder.'

And after all, it went pretty well. TGIF. This one's for sistermagpie, who entertains me every Friday!

( Quality of Mercy 19, R, slash and het )

I defy anyone to say my Sunday was wasted. I have bought two mugs for tea, and christened them the Dark God and Mr Sweetums. What higher purpose can there be?

This chapter written especially for charlie_ego, with thanks for her lovely present.

And with thanks to slinkhard, lasultrix and penelope_z for their kindly assistance with some Technical Difficulties.

In other fandom news, there is a radio show thing called Spellcast that FAP do, and one episode they talked about If You've A Ready Mind. It's here.

Real people's voices talked about my story, and that was exciting.

( Quality of Mercy 18, R, slash and het )

Ah, going away parties. Vague recollections of posing for disgraceful photographs and the distinct urge to take to my bath and wash away the shame. With bubbles!

This is the last post brought to you from my green homeland, for tomorrow I go away, and I get to read Thrones of Jade on the plane! I've been saving it. I fear I will stumble weeping into penelope_z's arms pathetically inquiring why bad things happen to good dragons.

I bid you adieu, my dears. I am off to the bubble bath and then two more parties tonight. I may not return for some time.

( Quality of Mercy 17, slash and het, R )

Of course, I had to have my scheduled Moving Countries Panic Attack. This one has been much better timed than my American Panic Attack, which took place on the airplane.

AIR HOSTESS: Pillow? Mints? Lovely soothing Pringles?
MAYA: Lovely soothing parachute, please!

This took place in the comfort of my own home, where I flailed around excessively and was spectacularly useless at life.

MAYA: I expect that penelope_z and I will be burned in our beds about the first week. I expect that Parliament will be blown up in November. I expect I'll be kidnapped and tortured for information about custard ingredients. I refuse to go to London, I don't have suitable undergarments!
FATHER: Would daddy's little girl like a hug?
MOTHER: Would mummy's little girl like a drink?

Of course, what do I do when I'm avoiding reality? I'm shamed to say that I exceeded the limit yet again and there's more soon.

( Quality of Mercy 16, R, slash and het )

I have a strange and peculiar allergy to packing.

It must have begun in my formative years, and I fear there is no therapy being offered for this particular weakness. Yet there it is. For holidays I generally just up-end a drawer in my chest of drawers and wait cheerfully to see what comes out once I open my bag at the start of the trip.

If this leads to packing bikinis in November, well, that's just the luck of the drawer.

Sunday the 17th of this month, however, I move to London. Moving somewhere means that one must be properly equipped, and besides that I fear that the gracious and lovely penelope_z, with whom I am charmed to say I am going to live, will look at me sardonically if I ever venture into the London smog in a bikini.

Thus my scheme: to rise so early that my brain, bludgeoned into submission by exhaustion, will pack sensible jumpers!

The drawbacks to this scheme: I woke up in a box half an hour ago with a distressing moment of existential uncertainty.

MAYA: Who am I? Where am I? Am I homeless?

It is thanks to the internet that I am not homeless, of course. O internet, I should never have doubted you, you always deliver me household goddesses. Thus, O internet, I bring to you with love this small gift.

( Quality of Mercy Chapter Fifteen, R, slash and het )

Generally, me writing copious amounts of fic means that I'm sad and I want to give myself a little boost. This current case is no different. I'm all over the place about several things and I must get them sorted out and stop hiding in the Mirage of Fic.

I need to sort out what I think about moving to London, do proactive friend things and most important of all, really write. If anyone sees me lurking around here before I have done something productive, a stern talking-to should be in order.

That said, I do hope you all enjoy.

( Quality of Mercy 14, R, slash and het )

My deepest apologies: I did say I'd have this up in a few days, but then my trip to Spain intervened and I was duty-bound to have sangria and get a tan (I have a high and noble sense of duty!) and after that I had to attend a weekend beach party, and then for the rest of today I have been, as is the sacred tradition of my people, Sleeping It Off. (Why'd you think they invented a day of rest?)

As it turns out, I needn't have bothered waiting to finish, for my skilled and original writing style, otherwise known as vomiting on the screen, has left me again with many, many words over the livejournal limit. Livejournal posting limits, baby, don't be like this, I will start to think I am too much woman for you.

So the next part really will be out soon, mayhaps tomorrow. This bit is dedicated to my marvellous minx sluzan, because she says I never mention her on my lj, and also because she listened to my disgusting stories earlier.

And now back to the exotic location where I spent my day, to wit, the bed.

( Quality of Mercy 13, R, slash and het )

In my giddy youth, I attended two all girls' schools. One of them was affectionately known as The Whores By The Shores and the other had a reputation for hard drinking.

My schooldays were happy ones, and my reunions are always greatly amusing.

It becomes ever more clear to me, though, that a night of hard drinking is not conducive to my mental health. I got into the shower on this glorious morning and cheerfully tipped my cup of tea onto my head.

It wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't already had conditioner in.

In other news, I think writing this disgracefully high level of fanfic means that I may be wrong in the head again, and so I am off to Spain on a rest cure.

( Quality of Mercy 12, R, slash and het )

GENEVIEVE: I love iTunes.
MAYA: Yes, it lets me access fifteen different country music stations!
GENEVIEVE: ... Go back to America. Get out of my house!

I recall that I let everyone know I was moving to New York without giving my poor darlings enough notice to hide the liquor, so I may as well announce now that I move to London in September, to do my M.A. at Kingston. I may be found at any time wandering around Piccadilly with a cocktail shaker in one hand, or deciding to launch myself like the Lady of Shalott down the Thames, and will welcome anyone who comes bearing advice, comfort or a pub guide.

Others who may be off to foreign climes include catfluff, to whom again this is dedicated. Any employer who does not like her should be declared of unsound mind, and clearly unfit for his/her duties.

( Quality of Mercy 11, R, slash and het )

It is strange, how geography has so little to do with what we call home. I'm settled back comfortably now, but I keep expecting to turn from Grafton Street down to Seventh Avenue, or thinking to myself that it's Sunday and trying to wander into a room not attached to my house, in order to watch Gray's Anatomy with lalejandra.

One forcible reminder that I'm not in New York anymore? The book prices. I bought the first George R. R. Martin for three dollars, and now it seems that if I want to read the rest (and I do) I must pay eleven euro. Currently I keep trying to walk out of bookshops without paying.

Security Guards: Um, you haven't paid for that.
Maya: No, no I haven't.
Security Guards: So, you're uh, just going to leave with it then?
Maya: Oooh, can I?
Security Guards: ... No.

Other than that, though, homecoming has been very painless. All my ladies have welcomed me back to my lifestyle of debauchery and idleness, and all my gentlemen are just where I left them. That'll happen, if you take the precaution of locking them up before you leave.

I received two anonymous livejournal gifties, so I have written two fic chapters. Actually, I have written three: two chapters of Quality of Mercy, because livejournal told me I had written far far too much, and I will finish the last chapter of Ready Mind once my sister surrenders Half-Blood Prince unto me once more. Sorry for deluging y'all with stories!

Canon pairings, slash and het to follow. This one is for the shining catfluff, currently learning why a bonnie wee lassie should never trust a man in kilts.

( Quality of Mercy 10, R, slash and het )

This is the sort of lady lalejandra is... when one comes in cranky, she bakes white chocolate chip cookies.
I fear to say how many I have had. Suffice it to say that should anyone be armed with some blue paint, I feel that I could make my grand Broadway debut in the musical After the Chocolate Factory as Violet Beauregard: the Blueberry Years. Roll me on to fame!

I do apologise to everyone for the Saturday Error, but here is the full chapter: happy, er, Easter Tuesday.

( Quality of Mercy Chapter Nine )

I am sorry for my lack of updates, but all has been extremely well with me. New York has recently witnessed me extremely drunk at addictedkitten's tragic going-away party, extremely drunk at ethrosdemon's joyous birthday event, mildly drunk on any number of occasions, convinced I was either drunk or insane while watching Charlie Brown's Big Gay Love (I mean, Dog Sees God, a play that nobody warned me about) and laughing while lying on my face, shamefully sober, in two feet of snow in Central Park.

Oh, New York. Why so awesome, baby? Be my valentine.

Of course I am tragically valentineless, but there is a boy called Marvin on the second floor of my office who wants me to go square-dancing with him. No, really. Ah, Marvin. How can I resist all your wily charms?

I come bearing Valentine's Day gifts for those I love, and so I hope you enjoy the fic and I give many thanks to sesshiyuki for her eleventh hour aid: now I must to bed, for tomorrow my beloved parents and Tiny Gay Brother arrive. Yes, I booked an Italian place for four on Valentine's Day: some people think I lead a kinky, kinky life right about now. Wait until they see one of the four is underage and, if I know my Tiny Gay Brother, wearing a dog collar to celebrate New York.

( Quality of Mercy Chapter Eight )

Ever since I arrived in New York, people have been prattling of Thanksgiving. I took it lightly until I realised it actually involved me getting a holiday, and then began to realise that people really meant it when they said it was a festive occasion. It was explained to me that it would involve pumpkins and turkey, at which point I began to think of it as the hybrid love child of Halloween and Christmas, and called it Chrisween to myself.

Conversations had before and around Chrisween.

CLIO: Well, it also involves lima beans.
MAYA (fascinated): The offspring of beans and limes? Lime-flavoured beans?
CLIO: Er... no.
JOSH: *cleverly distracts us with an amusingly shaped kitchen utensil*

CANDY: Try some pumpkin pie.
MAYA: Hee! Pumpkin pie! Like pumpkin juice at Hogwarts! Too silly to be a real food.
CANDY: Or, here is some pumpkin pie. On the plate, right in front of you. Please to be trying it, crazed Irishwoman.
MAYA: Iiiinteresting. *pokes pumpkin pie warily*

MAYA: So Halloween is for ghosts, Christmas is for presents, and Thanksgiving is for - food? You Americans worship food?
LALE: Look, I left some corn muffins out for you!
MAYA: Hail to the mighty food, our one true god!

In the name of a truly excellent first Thanksgiving, and in the even more sacred name of raspberry apple pie, I come bearing gifts. Happy Chrisween!

( Quality of Mercy Chapter Seven )

It occurs to me that my brain may be poking itself with sticks, which means, of course, that my brain self-harms.

In the time spent before I stage an intervention with my brain to tell it about its inner beauty and ask about its childhood, I note that a certain bit of this was inspired by aome, because she is great.

HBP Spoilers.

( Quality of Mercy Chapter Six )