trinityday

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: comment_fic prompt by anthimeriate, Veronica/Lilly - perfectly normal

( Sex isn't a dirty word, Veronica. )

Title: Spoils of War
Fandom: PotC
Characters/Pairings: Elizabeth, Will Turner III, Ragetti
Word Count: 300
Written for: blackpearlsails Share drabble challenge


( It's Ragetti versus Elizabeth's three-year old son )

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: mmom (Merry Month of Masturbation) Day 14


( The walls are paper thin and Sirius can hear them in the next room. )

Title: Oldest Trick in the Book
Fandom: Dark Angel
Pairing: Max/Alec
Word Count: 391
Written for: jam_pony_fic's drabble ficathon. For amathela's prompt, Max and Alec on a mission or heist (Max/Alec preferred, friendship okay)
Special thanks to: shyaway for looking this over for me.


( Max knew better than to protest when Alec suddenly swept her against the wall )

Title:
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Lily/James
Word Count: 1474
Written for: 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.

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.”

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. )

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.

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.”

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 hp100. You can find the shorter version here

( Spoilerriffic - Read the Half-Blood Prince first! )