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Another tiny ficlet, this time for musesfool, who wanted Sports Night, Dan, Dana and a piano.

ficlet:: les autres
by Raven
800w, Sports Night, gen. A late night, a bar.

( the network changeover is a great relief to everyone, of course... )

For foreverdirt, who wanted Natalie from Sports Night in a Star Trek AU.

Ficlet:: Earth, Renaissance
by Raven
G, Sports Night/Star Trek AOS crossover, gen, 1000 words. Natalie's working week begins with Andorian hoverball.

( Monday )

I am so tired, I forgot to watch Doctor Who. Funny what staying up all night and leaving all your homework till the last minute will do, isn't it.

So. No election talk for a little while. Can anyone do a Sports Night beta? Not v. long, it's just a wee ficlet, but as it's a new departure for me, beta probably good just for grammar/canon issues. (I haven't finished the story yet, but plan to have done later today.) thaaaankyou, lovely flist.

The Incredible Fornicatores had sex until five thirty am, and all the banging, shouting and howling in the world did not stop them...

...however, my good mood has just been entirely restored by the fact DAN RYDELL HAS A CRUSH ON HILLARY CLINTON. "Her hair, her shoes!"

omg.

Thank you, I now return you to Life Without The Demented Girl In The Corner.

(Yes, my next exam is less than forty-eight hours away, however did you guess.)

Oh hai, I hate everything. I do. Yesterday I had an oral exam and today I went to the dentist, in contemplation of tomorrow I have an email titled "ALL DAY FIRE ALARM TESTING FRIDAY 5TH MARCH" and on Saturday four hours of exams.

( about the dentist )

( about the advocacy exam )

Now I am trying to desperately prepare for my civil litigation paper on Saturday (crim lit prep tomorrow, oh hell) and rewarding myself with bits of Sports Night. Which is so much fun. I tried to get into it a while ago, but my source dried up; this time it's easier and I'm enjoying it so much. Mainly Dana, and mainly mainly Natalie. I love her. She is so awesome.

( this is how Natalie is awesome; seriously, this is the best thing to happen to me all week )

It's kind of blurry, but, ohhh. She's so pretty. So awesome, and so pretty, and in "Mary Pat Shelby" I wanted to waaaaaaail in her general direction.

Oh.

Oh, and, because I ought to go away and read about civil litigation and try through willpower to stop my tongue falling out and dancing a calypso on my desk - oh hai, dental anaesthetic - I will just note for the record which stories I wrote for purimgifts:

an open-door policy, The West Wing, Toby/Andi.
Otherwise known as "ARGH NO PLOT WHERE IS PLOT ARGH". shimgray came up with it at the eleventh hour, I wrote it in one sitting, but I'm pleased with it, I think.

so many colours it nearly broke my heart, Harry Potter, Parvati, Padma and Hermione.
Okay, so. I did not set out to write a Holi-themed story that would be revealed on Holi. It just sort of... happened. Serendipity and whatnot. But I liked it.

sometimes patient, sometimes kind, Love Actually.
Not something I would have written if my recipient hadn't asked for it, but on the whole I'm glad she did; it's not my best story ever by a long chalk, but it was probably good for me to go through the mill trying to get something good out of very few ideas.

Right. Civil litigation.

One of my favourite episodes of Sports Night is "Intellectual Property", mostly because it combines the a) incredibly sweet (Dan! Sings Happy Birthday to Casey live on air! It's vaguely gay!) and b) incredibly geeky (It's against the law to be vaguely gay sing Happy Birthday on air!* It's still in copyright!) but also because of what Dana says to Natalie, later. "What's the last good idea you had?"

Quoth Natalie, "When I woke up this morning, I decided not to stick my hand in the blender."

It's been that sort of a day.

Things achieved today:

-Not throwing myself into traffic at any point, by the simple expedients of hiding in libraries and toilet cubicles and other such places where this would be a) messy and b) inconvenient.

(This is a judgement on me, I feel. Yesterday I went to see my sweet, reassuring and competent GP, who said he was glad that the citalopram was working for me, it was good to hear I was feeling better, asked about my past history with depression and then, contemplatively, what my degree and post-grad are in. "PPE, then law," he said, still contemplatively. "Well, you're not very stupid, are you?"

It pleased me. Anyway, of course I start acting like an overwrought lunatic the day after I assure a doctor I'm quite sane, thank you.)

-Losing my house keys, by the similarly simple expedient of being a fucking idiot. I have lost a single key off a ring. I have not lost my bike key (for which there is a spare), my house key for up north (for which my parents have spares), or my room key (which I never use) or the remote access control on the ring (of which there are several). It is my fucking house key, for which the spare is missing.

-I had a bath. This actually wasn't an achievement. I mention it because I managed it without major disaster.

-I saw a car with an Obama bumper sticker! This was exciting.

-And, finally, went down to our letting agency with my housemates, and met the obstructive, rude and obnoxious woman responsible for sorting out our new contract. It was a horrible experience, especially coming after a day of ick, but at least she was unambiguously awful and wrong. We don't understand, she said, we don't understand the difficulty in drawing up a contract. We don't understand.

At which point I could have, but didn't, pull Poole's 667-page Textbook of Contract Law out of my bag. But I didn't. Scratch everything, that was my big achievement for the day.

In other news, my mother had, when she was about seventeen, an enormous crush on a Hindi film star called Dev Anand. She saw all his films, she cut pictures of him out of magazines, the whole shebang.

Today, nearly forty years on, she met him. She saw he was doing a book signing on a poster, and went and was first in line to buy tickets and sat at the front and asked him a question and was breathlessly, flailingly excited. She just rang me up and shrieked, "I met Dev Anand!"

I think, all in all, she had a successful day.

---

* This is not actually true.