Title: Sharing the Wealth
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Characters/Pairings: Lilly, Veronica (hints of Lilly/Veronica with mentions of Veronica/Duncan)
Word Count: 579
Written for: [community profile] comment_fic prompt by [profile] anthimeriate, Veronica/Lilly - perfectly normal

Sex isn't a dirty word, Veronica. )
Title: A Good Night's Sleep
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Characters: Elizabeth, Jack
Word Count: 750
Written for:: [community profile] comment_fic prompt by [personal profile] were_lemur, Elizabeth - single motherhood
Author's Note: Probably should have got this one beta'd. Mostly because I have finally admitted I have a migraine (and I was doing so well, spending over a week in denial). Which means things like word order and the knowledge of how to put a key in a lock aren't currently my forte. As to why I haven't just got a beta, well I have a migraine, which means I have fuzzy thinking and just can't bring myself to care.

All this translates to: if you see anything awkward or out and out wrong, let me know. This goes for all my things, really, but doubly so today.

That is, if there's anyone left that hasn't been chased off by this lovely introduction.

Elizabeth should have known that it would be more hassle than it was worth, trying to ask Jack to babysit. )
Title: Spoils of War
Fandom: PotC
Characters/Pairings: Elizabeth, Will Turner III, Ragetti
Word Count: 300
Written for: [community profile] blackpearlsails Share drabble challenge

It's Ragetti versus Elizabeth's three-year old son )
Title: Specter
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Characters/Pairings: Veronica/girl!Logan (with historical Lilly/girl!Logan and Lilly/Weevil)
Word Count: 705
Written for: [community profile] comment_fic prompt by [personal profile] liviapenn, Veronica/girl!Logan, "we both loved Lilly"
Author's Notes: I tried not to steal too much from 1x19 "Hot Dogs"

Veronica Liked Boys )
Title: A Lack of Privacy
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Sirius, Lily/James (with hints of Sirius/James and/or Sirius/Lily)
Word Count: 490
Written for: [community profile] mmom (Merry Month of Masturbation) Day 14

The walls are paper thin and Sirius can hear them in the next room. )
Title: Widow's Comfort
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Characters: Elizabeth, Anamaria (Elizabeth/Will)
Word Count: 713
Written for: [community profile] mmom (Merry Month of Masturbation) Day 4
Author's Note: Adult, as you might have guessed from the above, though not very graphic at all. Probably anachronistic, since I found it difficult to research the history of dildos.

She's four months gone when she runs into Anamaria, finally over being sick but just starting to be desperate in that way only Will could help her with. )
Title: Oldest Trick in the Book
Fandom: Dark Angel
Pairing: Max/Alec
Word Count: 391
Written for: [community profile] jam_pony_fic's drabble ficathon. For [personal profile] amathela's prompt, Max and Alec on a mission or heist (Max/Alec preferred, friendship okay)
Special thanks to: [personal profile] shyaway for looking this over for me.

Max knew better than to protest when Alec suddenly swept her against the wall )
Title: Three Things
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Sirius/Bellatrix
Word Count: 768
Written for: a FAP challenge back in 2004. Something along the lines of "three things that never happened" in honour of the leap year.

February 29, 1975

Few people came to this part of the castle. It was too cold and drafty—especially in late February. But Sirius found himself there nonetheless.

“What are you doing here all alone, my dear cousin?”

“Go away, Bellatrix,” Sirius said, not surprised when she took that as an invitation to sit down beside him.

“I heard you tried to kill Severus,” she said.

“He deserved it,” Sirius said viciously.

“Your friends don’t agree. Are they even your friends anymore? How long has it been since they even talked to you? Two? Three weeks?”

Sirius refused to look at her. “Shut up.”

“But then, they’re Gryffindors. What can you expect?” Bellatrix continued.

“I said, shut up.”

Bellatrix reached over and brushed the hair out of his face. “Do you want me to go?”

“Since when have you ever done what I want you to do?” Sirius asked.

“That’s not an answer.” Her hand was still resting on his cheek and, almost against his will, he leaned into it.

“No. Don’t go,” he almost whispered, hating himself for it. But Bellatrix was the only one who would talk to him anymore and Sirius hated being alone.

Bellatrix’s hand slipped to the back of his head and Sirius kissed her. It reminded him of old times, when they were both still at home.

“Come home, Sirius.” Bellatrix was breathing heavily, causing her voice to sound husky.

Sirius didn’t answer right away, but only because he resented her pulling away from him to ask the question. He didn’t need to think about the decision. When they next took time to breathe, he said, “Yes.”


February 29, 1977

“He’s having an affair.”

Sirius didn’t look up from his parchment at Bellatrix’s announcement. “Who’s having an affair,” he asked, not particularly caring about the answer.


“I heard. Why do you think I care?” Sirius watched warily as Bellatrix balled up her fist, ready to duck in case she gave into temptation and tried to hit him.

“That’s not what you say to a lady when she tells you her fiancé is cheating on her,” Bellatrix said.

“Firstly, you’re not a lady, Bellatrix. Secondly, what did you expect? Of course he’s having an affair. It’s what you people do.”

“The entire school knows.

“You knew what you were getting into,” Sirius said without any sympathy. “You chose this life.”

Bellatrix changed the direction of the conversation. “Remember when we were younger?” Her tone was almost wistful. “We used to talking about leaving. You always hated it. Do you remember?”

Sirius had stopped pretending to do his homework by now. “I remember,” he said carefully, not sure where she was going with this.

“And you did. You left as soon as you were old enough,” Bellatrix said, but without her usual malice. It didn’t even sound like an accusation, for once.

“I did.” Sirius couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“I didn’t. And now I’m marrying a boy who won’t even pretend that we love each other. Who doesn’t even care enough to be discreet in his affairs.”

“You can still leave.”

“Leave?” Bellatrix laughed. “Where? You had friends. I don’t. At least none that would help me.”

“You could stay at James’.”

“Potter?” Bellatrix laughed. “He hates me.”

“You can always go back to Rodolphus,” Sirius said, heartlessly.

Bellatrix was silent for a minute. “Potter, you say?”


February 29, 1981

February 29 had long held a special place in the wizarding world. It marked the end of the civil wars of the 1600s, caused by disagreement over the treatment of Muggles. Ever since, February 29 was a day of remembrance, a day for peace and reconciliation, especially among family members. Too many families had been torn apart during the wars. Brother had fought against brother. Father against son. Husband against wife.

Ever since, witches and wizards marked the day by doing a random act of kindness. One good deed every four years (normally) wasn’t too strenuous a task.

Bellatrix’s good deed for the day was not to try to kill or maim Sirius, even though he was completely unaware that she was there. She could have snuck up behind him and he would never have known that she was there. But she didn’t.

Sirius’ good deed for the day was to not call the Order or Aurors, even though he had seen things that would make them lock Bellatrix in Azkaban and throw away the key.

That they quickly ended up naked, using a pile of boxes as a makeshift bed, had nothing to do with the day at all.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Lily/James
Word Count: 1474
Written for: [profile] lilyandjames's First Ever Fic Challenge (and thank god for that, since the version I had on my harddrive was scrambled).

Lily and James lay in bed, side by side, their hands resting on top of each others on Lily’s extended stomach.

“Jennifer?” James suggested.

“Marie,” Lily countered.

“Sirius,” said Sirius, who was on the bed beside them. He’d come by earlier and, when Lily had expressed a desire to laze around all day and not antagonize her sore feet any more, he’d hopped into their bed with them.

“We’re discussing girls names, Sirius,” Lily said with more patience than a pregnant woman need legally have.

“Sirius can be a girl’s name,” Sirius said.

“We’re not naming our baby girl Sirius.” Lily was firm on that point.

“Fine. I’m sure your son would prefer to be named Sirius.”

“We’re not naming our son after you, either.” James was more amused than his wife. Then again, he had chosen Sirius as a friend of his own free will; Lily had sort of inherited him when she married James.

“So you’re not naming your daughter after me. You’re not naming your son after me. What are you expecting to have? A three-toed sloth?”

“We’re simply not naming our baby after you, regardless of its gender,” Lily said, not willing to play Sirius’ game.

“Or species,” James added, to stave off anything further Sirius could say.

“What in bloody hell are you expecting, then?” Sirius demanded.

“I suppose it would be too much to expect you to take this as anything but a joke,” Lily said, referring to her and James’ attempts to name the baby.

“I’m taking this very seriously, indeed,” Sirius said. “This is, after all, my namesake we’re talking about.”

“We’re not naming the baby after you,” James said with such finality in his voice that even Sirius had to take heed.

“What’s wrong with my name?”

“For one thing, it’s Sirius,” Lily said.

“You certainly know how to hurt a bloke’s feelings, Lil,” said Sirius.

“How about we ask you to be the baby’s godfather, instead,” James asked.

“It’s a start,” Sirius said, with a sniff. “Throw in a bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey, and you have a deal.”

“No, Padfoot, I mean it.” James rolled over and looked at his best friend. His expression had lost all trace of humour.

Sirius rolled over, too. His throat was dry. “What?” It was all he could say.

“Lil and I have been thinking about it. We can’t think of anyone we would rather have as the baby’s godfather,” James told him.

Sirius looked to Lily as if he still couldn’t be sure if James was serious and was expecting her to reveal it was only a joke, but she only nodded in confirmation. “Really?” he asked, still not daring believe it.

“Really,” James assured him.

“Really, Sirius. You would make a wonderful godfather. You’re going to spoil the baby rotten as it is. We may as well formalize it,” Lily said.

“Are you sure?” Sirius couldn’t put his doubts to rest. “I mean, I’m hardly the best role model.”

Lily snorted. “You aren’t going to get any arguments from me. But then, James is hardly the best role model out there either, and the poor kid is going to be stuck with him as a father.”

James used his pillow to resoundingly smack his wife. Lily tried to defend herself, but found it hard to do while laughing.

“Stop beating up the pregnant lady!” she cried.

“You deserve it,” James said resolutely.

“Sirius, some help? It’s your future godson or goddaughter that James is attacking here.”

“Or god-three-toed-sloth,” James added. “Don’t forget the three-toed sloth.”

“Sorry, Prongs,” Sirius said, looking anything but sorry. “But I have to agree with Lil here. That’s my godson or daughter or three-toed sloth you’re attacking.”

He did his best to advance on James – a task which wasn’t as easy as it sounded considering they were all still more-or-less laying on the bed. He did manage to tear the pillow away from James and the two engaged in a brief tug-of-war over it. Lily was still laughing too hard to help either one. The scuffle lasted a few more minutes before through some unspoken signal, they decided to gang up on Lily instead.

“Stop! Stop!” she cried. “Oh! Oh!” The last two were sharper, more serious. James and Sirius immediately ceased.

“What’s wrong?” James asked, anxiety playing in his voice. “Did we hurt you?”

“No.” Lily smiled. “The baby kicked. That’s all.”

“What? Has that happened before?” Sirius asked excitedly.

“Only once or twice. He or she’s just learning.”

James blinked, still stunned. “The baby...” he trailed off.

“Kicked,” Lily repeated. She guided his hands to rest on her belly. “Here. Do you feel it?”

“The baby kicked,” James said in what others were quickly learning to recognize as his “proud papa” voice. “Did you hear that, Padfoot? The baby kicked!”

Sirius, who was no less amazed by the whole ordeal that James, nodded wordlessly. He was the only one of their friends who would never become exasperated with the Potters whenever they went into painstaking detail about what had happened or what they could expect in the coming weeks or month of Lily’s pregnancy. He was just as awed by the whole process as they were.

“Do you want to feel?” Lily asked.

Again, Sirius nodded. She guided his hand so that it rested beside James. The baby kicked. Sirius was convinced that he felt the outline of the little foot against Lily’s skin. “It’s amazing.” His voice was raw.

James was speechless, but he from the look on his face, he obviously agreed.

“It’s like you have a little life inside of you,” said Sirius.

“I do. That’s what happens when a girl gets pregnant,” Lily teased gently.

“It’s still . . . ” Words failed him.

James understood the sentiment. “I know. We made that. We made that.”

Lily looked at him lovingly. “We did.”

Sirius withdrew his hand, feeling as if he were interrupting a private moment. His action didn’t go unnoticed by James or Lily.

“We really do want you to be the baby’s godfather, Sirius,” Lily said earnestly and somehow, coming from her, it meant more. “We know you would be great.”

“Despite not being the best role model,” James added.

“Or even being a role model,” Lily said.

“So will you do it?” James asked anxiously.

A grin split over Sirius’ face. “Do you really need to ask? Of course I’ll do it!”

“Thanks, Padfoot. We knew we could count on you,” James said.

“And if anything were – if anything were to happen to us,” Lily said, “You’ll look after the baby, won’t you?”

“I would never let anything happen to any child of yours,” Sirius swore. “Ever. Wild Hippogriffs couldn’t stop me. They could lock me up in the deepest, darkest, dankest pits of hell, and I’d find a way to get out. Nothing would stop me from protecting your baby.”

“We know,” James said. “That’s why we want you to be the godfather.”

“Well, now that that’s settled, we just have to decide what we’re calling your goddaughter or godson,” Lily said.

“How about Padfoot?”

“Sirius,” Lily whined.

“You said you wouldn’t name it Sirius; you said nothing about not naming it after me,” Sirius protested.

“Actually, I did,” James said. “So you’re out of luck, Padfoot. Besides, it would be confusing having two Padfeet running about.”

“And into things,” Lily added.

“Hogwarts,” Sirius suggested.

“Who invited you here again?” Lily complained.

“No one. He followed me home,” James said. “Can we keep him? Please? Can we?”

“I don’t think I ever had any say in that,” said Lily.

“Okay then, if not Hogwarts, then Foggywaters. ”

“Foggywaters?” James beat Lily with the outcry. “Are you crazy? Oh wait, I forgot who I was talking about. Of course you are.”

“How ‘bout Sloth?”

“Sirius, think for a minute. How do you think our son or daughter is going to feel growing up with a name like ‘Sloth’?” Lily chided.

“Well that would just be stupid,” Sirius said, unnaturally sensibly. “I stopped trying to name your kids ages ago. It’s obvious that you two have no taste when it comes to names. You’re probably going to end up calling the poor kid something like Nancy or Randy.”

“Then what does Sloth mean, or should I be afraid to ask?”

“It’s for my baby,” Sirius said.

“Your baby?” Lily asked.

James, who had an inkling of what Sirius meant, groaned. “Please don’t tell me you’re referring to your bike.”

“Of course I am! My baby needs a name too. I’m thinking Sloth. In honour of my god-three-toed-sloth that Lil will be popping out in another couple months.”

James looked at Lily. Lily looked at James. He smirked and she rolled her eyes. Then they both grabbed pillows and teamed up to attack Sirius.
Title: Every Time
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Sirius/James
Word Count: 646
Written for: ...something. Unfortunately, my computer had crashed between writing and posting, and the SiriusXJames group has been deleted, so I can't find the original prompt/challenge.

James was sighing, rather obviously, and moving impatiently as if he were on the verge of doing or saying something and biting his tongue at the last second every single time, but since this was all happening out of the corner of his eye, Sirius refused to acknowledge it. If James was going to tell him to shut up about his marks in Runes, then he wasn’t going to ask what James’ problem might be.

“Are you still sulking?” James asked at last.


“I’ve something that’ll cheer you up,” he said, sitting down on Sirius’ bed. Even though it was a little more obvious now what he was doing, Sirius still didn’t turn around and look at him.

“I’m not sulking,” he repeated before thinking better of it. “What will cheer me up?”

“Guess.” Sirius didn’t have to look at James to know there was a wide smile on his face, the type that Sirius loved so much.

“Okay,” Sirius said, thinking hard. “Jimmy Page.”

That took James aback. “What? Who--what?” He paused, as the reference clicked, then groaned. “Not that band again.”

James, for all that Sirius loved him, had a few, glaring faults, the most grievous of which was the fact that he refused to budge from his prejudice against Muggle music despite having heard otherwise. No matter how often Sirius listened to it, James refused to admit its superiority to the warbling of Celestina Warbeck and other such dreck. He only just recognized Led Zeppelin, along with Jimmy Page and Robert Plant, and only then because Sirius was constantly playing those few records he’d gotten on the Hogwarts black market (the Muggleborn Sarah Samuels in Ravenclaw was especially adept at transforming the Muggle technology into something more sensible that could be played even on Hogwarts grounds).

Sirius stopped glowering at his pillow long enough to flip onto his back and glower at James. “The greatest musicians known to man, centaur, werewolf, goblin and merman is not and should never be referred to ‘that band’.”

James rolled his eyes, but he didn’t try insulting Sirius again. “No, I don’t have Jimmy Plant.”

“Jimmy Page,” Sirius corrected.

“Sorry,” James said, although he really didn’t sound like he meant it. “Jimmy Page.”

“Robert Plant?” Sirius queried next.

“What?” He looked genuinely puzzled and Sirius wondered if James had forgotten what their conversation was even about because not recognizing the name wasn’t a possibility.

“Robert Plant,” Sirius repeated, a tad impatiently. “Is that what will cheer me up?”

“No,” James scowled. But since this time he remembered who Robert Plant was Sirius decided that, scowling aside, he didn’t have to give him yet another lecture on the merits of Led Zeppelin (the list of which, despite what James decried, was not topped by the mere fact that the members were all very shaggable).

“The hat!” Sirius said, triumphantly.

“Do you ever stop thinking about that band for more than two seconds?” James exploded. Sirius thought it a rather harsh way to tell him know, he had not guessed the manner of his cheering up correctly.

“Firstly,” Sirius said, sitting up because it was difficult to deliver a lecture when you were lying on your bed. “They are not--”

He didn’t get any further than that because James covered his mouth with his own. By the time they came up again for air, Sirius wasn’t feeling very inclined to continue with the scolding. After all, had much better things to occupy his time now.

Sirius was grinning like a mad man, he knew, and James noticed it, too. “Still feeling sulky?” he teased lightly.

“No.” That was the extent of the conversation Sirius was willing have right then, but James wouldn’t let them get back to snogging just yet.

“Works every time,” he added smugly.

Funnily enough, Sirius had been thinking the exact same thing.
Here's what I found for the preamble in my Word file:

Trying to find a balance between insane-not-quite-right-in-the-head and comprehensible-not-quite-right-in-the-head. Don’t know how well I succeeded. This was written in response of Prongs’ request, even though I know it’s not what she was looking for. It’s what whispered to me, however.

Title: bad days
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Sirius Black, phantoms of his mind
Word Count: 648
Written for: Prongs, on the SiriusXJames list. Yet, despite that, there's no hints of slash.

Some days in Azkaban were bad.

There were times when the moans and shrieks of Sirius’ fellow prisoners faded into droning whispers, when other images came into focus in front of his eyes. James’ body, twisted into an even more unnatural position than any contortions he’d attempted while playing Quidditch. A newspaper article, announcing the death of Regulus Black, because his family hadn’t even had the courtesy to inform him of his brother’s death.

But sometimes, sometimes what he saw was even worse.

“Padfoot,” James kneeled before him, shaking Sirius out of his daze. “Padfoot?”

“James?” Sirius’ voice was weak. It took three false tries before he could get the name out. “James? Prongs?”

“It’s me.”

“You’re dead,” Sirius said. “You’re dead, you’re dead, you’re dead, you’re dead, you’re dead, you’re dead, you’re dead.”

“Shhh.” James tried to calm him down. “Shush now. It wasn’t real. I’m here, can’t you see? I’m here for you now. I’m here for you always. I’ll never leave you again.”

“Azkaban makes you go mad.” It was a new voice, but a familiar one. Sirius stared in disbelief at his brother, dead and gone for even longer than James had been.

“Gus?” He could only manage the baby name he had for his brother, the name he now used in only the most intimate of settings. In front of anyone else, he would never dream of calling his brother that. It was their thing. (In front of James, it was okay, though, because James and Regulus they were so much alike even if they were so much different.)

“You know I would never actually join Voldemort, don’t you? Voldemort would have no reason to kill me if I didn’t join him.” Regulus proved himself, daring to speak the name that no Death Eater, anywhere, would dream of using. He had to be telling the truth.

“Gus!” Sirius was almost crying now in relief.

“Come on, Padfoot, it’s time to get up.”

“James. Regulus.” Proper names, this time.

“Your brothers. Both of us.” Which meant so much coming from Regulus who had always been so jealous of James. Not that James had any better feelings for Regulus. Except for those times—were they real? Were they real times? Were they a product of his fevered imagination, hallucinations that fed the Dementors? They couldn’t be, Sirius decided, for James and Regulus wouldn’t both be here in front of him otherwise.

They loved him and he loved them. It was what got him through his time in Azkaban.

“James. Regulus.” Brothers, though his feelings towards each were anything but brotherly the way most people defined the word. Sirius knew differently. Sirius knew how important closeness was. “But—”

“Come on, Sirius,” Regulus said, as impatient and nervous as he always was when they were younger, still getting along, and they were trying to get away with some mischief. It was as if he were hurrying away before their mother caught them, not hurrying away before the Dementors of Azkaban caught them. Sirius had missed his little brother so much.

“We’re going to get you out of here.” James’ voice brooked no argument. James always was so sure of himself. Sirius always loved that about James.

“James! Regulus!”

Sirius struggled to get up.

“Come on, Padfoot!”

Both headed towards the door.

“Hurry up, Sirius!”

Sirius hurried.

They left.

Sirius was blocked by the door.

The door wouldn’t open.

The door wouldn’t budge.

He looked out through the bars.

“Wait!” he cried. “Wait!”

But they didn’t wait. They were gone. Long gone. Long, long gone, gone and dead. And Sirius was left alone with only his imagination as company, his fantasies, his hopes, his dreams, and even those were quickly sucked up as the Dementors spied a fresh source of food.

“Come back,” he cried, real tears coming down. “Please. Please. Come back. Don’t leave me alone.”
Title: The Gardens
Characters: Lily, Sirius, James
Word Count 615
Author's Notes: Written for [profile] daily15 in which I did no planning and no reading over and no editing. A true 15 minute word ficlet. Okay, 16 minutes, when you get right down to it. For their word 402 ).

'I leave you two alone for fifteen minutes and look at this place!' )
Okay, I need to get myself a copy of Word, and soon, because I spent ten minutes trying to format this stupid thing.

Title: The Safe Option
Word Count: 1285
Beta: Lyllianne (Thanks a million, again!)
Warnings: Tense change. Rambling. A preteen's penchant for italics.
Author's Notes: It's a bit of a different style than I usual go for, but at least it's happy and not full of wangst for once. It was originally started as one of the Sirius/James Fest challenge responses, but *cough* the deadline came and past for that months and months ago. Still, thought people might enjoy it.

It started with a bottle of Firewhiskey. )
So I have a mild migraine, which explains the insomnia last night. I also have no food in the house, which sucks. 'cuz I'm hungry and I don't want to go out to get something to eat.

I found this on my harddrive when I was moving files.

Title: Strange Melodies
Fandom: Star Wars
Timeline: Mid-AotC
Characters: Padmé, Beru
Word Count: 906
Author's Notes: I wrote this for theforce.net's "silence" challenge, where you weren't allowed to have any spoken dialogue in the fic, which might explain a lot about this.

Padmé wasn’t used to long silences. )
Title: Dreams
Word Count: 778
Character: Leia
Author's Notes: This was originally written as one of those 5/10/15 minute ficlet things I'm so fond of, but I'm much too tired to link to the original tonight. It's a different style than I usually write (for starters, it's in my normally despised present tense), but there you go. I'll post something Harry Potter tomorrow.

Leia dreams true dreams.

She recognizes the truth in them those rare times that she remembers the visions upon waking. Dreams about the past, often about a mother who died when she was very young. A beautiful woman who carries the weight of the worlds on her soul, whose eyes speak of anguish Leia does not dare to imagine. Two names, Leia hears. Her own, Leia, and another, one that she cannot hear, cannot make out. Perhaps also her own, the surname she was born with but never knew. Her father’s, maybe, a man who is even more of a mystery to Leia than her dead mother, for she has does not even have a face for him. Someone else completely, perhaps, related to Leia in some arcane way she might never know.

There are dreams about the present, her day-to-day life, even those parts she shouldn’t be privy to. Overheard comments that don’t filter through her consciousness still worm their way into her psyche, causing her to dream things she couldn’t possibly know, intrigues and affairs all acted out in her subconscious.

Sometimes even dreams about the future, although these she understands to be nothing more than well-deduced guesses, a product of her passions and her fears. Leia has always been intuitive, has always been able to determine the most likely course from what she knows of the present. Her dreams of the future, when she considers them in the light of day, Leia dismiss these as nothing more than a logical extension of her conscious gift into her unconscious realm of fancy.

Still, Leia doesn’t tell anyone about these dreams.

Tonight, Leia dreams of destruction. She dreams of people screaming out in pain for one infinite instant. She dreams of a planet that is gone, destroyed, vanished. She dreams of a weapon, brutal but strong. She dreams of explosions.

She dreams of death.

Leia fears these visions, recognizing them as harbingers of an unavoidable truth. Rumours have been whispered on the wind about a new weapon the Empire has developed, one that can cause the destruction she has seen in her dreams. She knows that if someone doesn’t stop them, what she has seen in her dreams tonight will happen, will continue to happen, like a plague slowly creeping from one star system to another, a sickness that doesn’t affect the life-forms in the atmosphere but the planets themselves.

((She fears she knows the planet in her dream, but won’t admit the identity even to herself. Nerves, she tells herself. It is only nerves. Nightmares. They are only nightmares. She is projecting her own insecurities into her dreams. She cannot know the future; no one can know the future. She can’t know what planet will be sacrificed to the new weapon, what planet’s blood will be used in the christening; she can only fear. It is only fear.))

But still, she recognizes her dreams as something that will happen. With such a weapon at the Empire’s disposal, there is no chance of these visions being avoided. She knows the Empire too well to believe otherwise.

It must be stopped.

This weapon must be stopped.

The Empire must be stopped.

No matter the price.

She fears what will happen to that person, brave enough to defy the Empire. Just as she recognizes the truth in her dreams, she recognizes the truth of the inherent danger in defying the Empire as boldly as this.

More profoundly, Leia fears what will happen if no one person is willing to make the great personal sacrifice necessary for the greater good. No gift of foresight is needed for this prediction; the Empire has never taken kindly to those who oppose it. Security will be greater around such an important project, meaning there will a higher chance at getting caught than there has been on any mission Leia has ever been on for the Rebellion in her life.

Her father comes to her, later that day, with a thin ray of hope. There is an opportunity to steal away the plans for this new weapon. There is a hope that these plans can be exploited, that a weakness can be found, that the monstrosity can be destroyed. It will be dangerous, but not as dangerous as that weapon will be if it is allowed to roam unchecked.

Leia realizes that it is she who is being called upon to make the sacrifice, she who must pay the price. Leia fears she know what the price will be.

She can’t forget her dreams and she fears she won’t be strong enough.

She can’t forget her dreams and knows that she will be strong enough.
Over at Black Pearl Sails, we had a challenge in which we were supposed to re-write a previous drabble or ficlet. The rewrite had to be something fairly drastic.

I picked A Flash of Green and expanded it significantly. Here are the two

Title: A Flash of Green
Characters: Jack
Word Count: 285

The Original )

Title: A Flash of Green
Characters: Jack
Word Count: 705

The Expanded Version )
Title: Keeping Warm
Characters: Leia, Han, Luke
Word Count: 321
A/N: Written for a 10-minute challenge. I'm addicted to these timed challenges, it seems. This one hasn't been cleaned up, nor do I have any intention of redoing it, so here you go.

“It’s so cold here,” Luke said, wrapping his coat around him as tightly as possible to ward off his shivering. “I’m not used to this.”

“None of us are, Kid,” Han said.

“I’m sure it’s worse for you, Luke, coming from a desert planet,” Leia said, partially out of diplomacy, partially to annoy Han. “Have you ever even seen snow before?”

Luke nodded. “Yeah, on Peo Skallaen, remember?”

“I’d forgotten,” Leia admitted. “That was much nicer than this, though. That reminded me of back home. We got snow in the mountains. My parents used to take me skiing when I was on break from school. It was always so much fun. You don’t feel the cold, so much, when you’re out there on the slopes.”

She smiled, wistfully, at nothing in particular. In fact, it seemed as if she had forgotten there was anyone else with her at all. The other two were silent for a minute, because even Han never knew quite what to say when Leia brought up memories of Alderaan.

“I don’t think we can ski here, though,” Leia said, her smile fading as she was brought back into the present. “It’s too cold.”

“Do you think you can teach me, Leia?” Luke asked gently, not so much because he wanted to learn—the idea of spending time voluntarily out in the snow wasn’t very appealing to a desert rat like himself. “Later, I mean, when we’re on a planet that’s better for skiing.”

“Of course,” Leia said. “I’d be happy to.”

“Never liked skiing,” Han contributed, feeling that it had been too long since the Princess had paid attention to him. “I preferred the chalets, with all the girls that’d come inside to find a way to warm up.”

“Why do you need to find ways to warm up?” Leia asked acerbically. “You already have a Wookiee. I’m sure you’ll feel right at home here on Hoth.”
Title: A Damned Good Reason
Word Count: 385
A/N: Written for [personal profile] pesha over at the Sirius/James List, who asked for Christmas at Grimmauld Place.

Sirius had to think very hard in order to remember a time when he had actually liked Christmas. Certainly when he was younger, before Hogwarts, he must have enjoyed it, if only because it was a time when he got presents. Now it just meant being imprisoned in his family house, having to make the impossible choice between staring at the four claustrophobic walls of his room or dealing with his family.

There was something about Grimmauld Place, something about it that perverted anything that was the slightest bit good or decent. He couldn’t even rely on his favourite cousin to keep him sane this Christmas; Bellatrix, Narcissa and Andromeda were getting along surprisingly well for once.

The phenomenon hadn’t passed on to include Sirius or Regulus.

He was alone even as he was surrounded—smothered—by his relatives.

The fireplace in his room roared to life, despite the charms Sirius had on it to prevent it from doing as much. He sprung from his bed, drawing his wand just in case.

James’ head appeared.

“What the fuck?” Sirius asked, tucking his wand back into his robes.

“Do you know how much trouble I had setting up the link?” James asked.

“What are you doing here, Prongs?” Sirius asked.

James grin seemed to take up the entire fire. “I’m breaking you out. You have to hurry, though, I don’t know how long this will stay connected to the Floo Network.”

“But—” Sirius wasn’t sure what he was protesting; it just seemed like the right thing to say.

“Do you want to come or not?” James asked impatiently.

That much was crystal clear. Sirius didn’t waste anymore time grabbing such frivolities as clothing or money—he leapt off his bed and would have dived into the fire right then and there if James weren’t still blocking the way.

“I’m coming,” he said.

Sirius’ early bad mood disappeared as quickly as James’ face did. He ought to have known that James would come to his rescue; James always came to his rescue.

Sirius threw a pinch of Floo powder into the fire, just in case, and then leapt in, shouting, “Lyonesse!”

James had rescued him from Grimmauld Place. Again. But then, Sirius expected nothing less. There was a damned good reason he loved James Potter so.
I actually feel like revising my stories for once in my life, except I'm at my parents house and therefore do not have the correct computer files. Yes, I know you're supposed to wait and not simply post the first thing that pops into your mind. On the other hand, this is a 15 minute ficlet (for last week's word, because I got confused) and therefore is perfect for quick, un-sunken-in-ness writing. Cut for massive spoilers. The speculation, if you haven't seen it already, will not be new to you for long...

This has been made into a drabble, as well, for [profile] hp100. You can find the shorter version here

Spoilerriffic - Read the Half-Blood Prince first! )
Title: Dumb
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Character: Cotton
Word Count: 437
Author's Notes: Originally written for [profile] 15minuteficlets's Word 111 ) challenge but I did some fiddling with it.

Cotton affected a slightly dazed grin as the others continued their bold, brash boastings. At one point, one of the younger marines, the one who wasn’t so far into his drink as they others, gave a worried glance at Cotton.

“Shouldn’t we be keepin’ our voices down?” he asked.

Just to be on the safe side, Cotton yawned widely to show off his tongueless mouth, to remind them of his affliction. Unfortunately, Parrot tried to help by squawking “Pieces o’ eight,” summoning a barmaid over with a tankard of rum, potentially reminding the men that it was still possible to communicate even if you couldn’t speak.

Luckily, the biggest and drunkest braggart in the group dismissed the old salt as harmless. “’e can’t do nothing,” he proclaimed loudly. “’he’s not right in the head.” Using two fingers, he tapped his own forehead to prove his point.

It was the position of many, mistaking dumbness of the tongue with dumbness of the mind, but a position Cotton didn’t overly object to. After all, it allowed others to underestimate him.

Besides, he got the last laugh the next day when —- after first sobering Gibbs up enough to translate properly for the Captain —- Cotton was able to relay the Navy’s plans. The crew of the Black Pearl were not only able to avoid the trap set for them, but took advantage of the distraction to plunder the under-guarded fort. In addition to the wages -- a substantial sum of gold -- Captain Sparrow went a step further and raided the Navy Captain’s personal effects, taking a spyglass to replace the one Anamaria had tossed over the side when Jack had threatened to use it on her (after first threatening to use it on him in a completely dissimilar and significantly more painful way) and a ring that glittered so brightly Captain Sparrow couldn’t resist adding it to his collection of baubles. There was also the matter of some official correspondence, lifted not because the crew had any particular interest in the workings of the English court, but because it would prove quite the embarrassment to the Captain who had staked so much on capturing and hanging the elusive Jack Sparrow, the pirate those Port Royal bastards were having so much trouble with.

All in all, it was a good turn, Cotton thought to himself. Parrot stayed silent on this matter; no one was close enough to require his translation services.

It was amazing, really, the things you pick up when surrounded by those dumb enough to think that just because you couldn’t speak didn’t mean you were deaf.