summer i lay down below a glitter adorned night...

drabblies omg!

Tue, 24 Jul 2007 05:59:23 GMT

Apparently this is my way of dealing with Deathly Hallows. I feel a little less empty inside.

fandom: hp
challenge: battle [ for hp100]
notes: Deathly Hallows spoilers. My interpretation of the end. The slasher in me will not die, it seems.

He was trying not to look too far down Platform 9 ¾. The mention of Slytherin House tempting him despite the fact that he knew better. This was neither the time nor the place. The distinction had always been clear.

He was fighting a losing battle with himself and eventually Harry succumbed glancing down the platform at the same moment Malfoy looked over. Their eyes locked – Harry could feel that same feeling he felt years ago when they had shared a broomstick. Malfoy nodded; Harry flushed. No one noticed.

It was, after all, the best-kept secret in the Wizarding World.

..

fandom: hp
challenge: shameless
notes: for drabble!fest with riddlemesphinx !!

Remus was trying to ignore the scene that played out before him. He held “Advanced Potion Making” open in his lap, trying to concentrate on Golpalott’s Third Law. This was nearly impossible.

Sirius was strutting shamelessly around the common room wearing nothing more than a pair of Keeper’s gloves and socks. James and Peter were laughing in a corner.

“Alright, Padfoot. It’s been three-quarters of an hour. You can put your robes back on,” James said, satisfied.

“Actually, I’m quite comfortable, thanks,” Sirius said. He turned to Remus, winking suggestively. “What do you think?”

Remus forgot all about potions.

..

fandom: hp
challenge: bribe
notes: for drabble!fest

They knew they had made a grave mistake. They had tried everything to keep this massive piece of gossip from spreading. Really it was their fault for being out in the open. It wouldn’t happen again.

Harry hangs his head, resigned that he will soon be barraged with questions and followed by whispers. The other hasn’t given up yet and is currently pounding the wall with frustration.

What Draco doesn’t understand is that Luna can’t be bribed to keep her mouth shut about him and Harry. But what Harry fails to realize is that Luna just doesn’t care either way.

..

fandom: hp
challenge: scrutinize
notes: for drabble!fest

You would think that after all this time that he would be used to it, at least to some degree. For the past 6 years, he has been scrutinized from all angles, from everyone imaginable. Once in a while he has to remind himself that it is worth the effort, worth the discomfort.

He knows that the end is near – it has to be. And every so often when he is alone, he lets his mask drop, lets the world crash around him. But it’s never long before Snape pulls himself together and remembers who this is all for.

because it's v-day ♥

Thu, 15 Feb 2007 02:26:17 GMT

title: war of roses
fandom: gw
pairing/characters: 13x5, implied 13x6, 13x11
challenge: romance [ for gw500]
notes: waxing poetic, not sure this is what i intended to come up with... oh well.

“How could you possibly think I could not fall in love with you?”

There is no answer from the figure sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away. No answer was needed; Treize continued.

“I have loved every person that has fought for me and mourned every person that has died for me. There are even those who have fought against me, that I find myself loving. If you must know the truth, I am in love with humanity itself.”

This earns a snort from the figure. At least he is listening.

“I was given power. Power to shape the world, perhaps even the universe. The power to guide the destinies of my people, to shape their lives, and even their deaths, in many cases. It is all so beautiful. Humans should all get a chance to experience such pure, raw beauty – the beauty one sees before one dies, when they regret that they never noticed the changing of the leaves with the seasons, or the taste of fresh spring water.”

A turn towards him and a frown.

“Oh, you must be wondering how I could possibly know these things? I live every day as if I were going to die. I want no regrets so I slow down and soak everything in, smell the roses, so to speak – though I must admit that one thing that I take particular pleasure in, but I digress.”

Treize smiles to himself in the semi-darkness of the room, shifting against the pillows. He has captivated his audience.

“That is why I could not help but fall in love with my companions and even my subordinates. Those men who call themselves The Treize Faction, all ready to give their lives for me without a second thought. Such devotion is rare and pure.”

A scoff, maybe, but he can’t be sure. Treize continues undaunted.

“Zechs, a pacifist by birth who only comes to live in the mist of battle; Une, with her eternal devotion; and of course, you and the passion that drives you to the art of war. Because it is an art, you see, and you know that as well as I. You are all beautiful powerful creatures. How could you not be forever imprinted in my mind?”

The figure turns towards him now, though still at a distance, still uncomfortable in his surroundings.

“Very few people understand me completely. Zechs understands that humans are necessary in battles. Without human loss, this war will never end. Une was prepared to give her life for her devotion to me, though she my have overestimated my powers. I can only imagine how beautiful she was before they tried to take her life. My cousin Dorothy, she understands more than anyone the beauty and necessity of war – that it’s human nature. And you, you fight for something deeper, just as I do. You fight for your own honor and, though you may not know it, for humanity. You love space as much as I love earth.”

A moment of silence then, almost bitterly, “Only you, Treize, could romanticize war in such a manner.”

Treize sighs. “I feel that you doubt my sincerity, Wufei. That it has somehow gotten tangled within my eloquence. I may be guilty of being poetic, but the sentiment is always true.”

“That may very well be, but you will always be first and foremost my enemy,” Wufei says, standing and walking towards the elaborate window, staring out onto the water.

“And I wouldn’t have you think of me any other way, Wufei. If that’s what you need me to be, then that’s what I am.”

Treize stands behind Wufei close enough to feel the heat emanate off his boy, but no contact is made. Wufei says nothing, though neither does Treize.

It’s only later, back inside Nataku, that Wufei understands that Treize speaks in truths and that he is the liar.

[end]

this isn't what we meant

Mon, 12 Feb 2007 05:46:07 GMT

title: this isn't what we meant (re-edit)
character: unknown OZ solider
summary: unknown pov. why does a nameless solider fight?
notes: starts pre-series, vague spoilers, edited for ficalbum.
song: "this isn't what we meant" by savatage, dead winter dead

I was 7 when Heero Yuy was assassinated. I don't remember it very well, except for the fact that all of my favorite television programs were cancelled for emergency broadcasting. It was later in life that I learned that the ones who can make change are always the first to be killed off.

To some, Heero Yuy's death was a blessing. Those were the ones who wanted ultimate control over our home, the colonies. But growing up in a world ruled by chaos, unable to communicate with other colonies, others in the same situation, was not the way I envisioned my life. The storybooks never tell of war torn cities and soldiers in the streets. There were no angels or gnomes to play with or to protect me. Real life is nothing like that of fiction.

Soon after the assassination, The United Earth Sphere Alliance sent specialized soldiers to the colonies to put down any unrest. Martial law ruled and people were afraid to come out of their homes. Even to an 8-year-old child, the so-called "mobile suits" were not fascinating. Playing with GI Joe dolls had become a thing of the past, and no one wanted to have anything to do with war or the military.

However, we all had one shinning hope, and that was the Sanc Kingdom. We told stories and legends about it, as if it were something that only existed in our own realm of imagination. To my generation King Peacecraft was our Heero Yuy, our own symbol of peace.

And just like Heero Yuy, our dreams – the Peacecraft dream – crumbled and shattered into a million shards of glass. But this time I remember everything. Seven years had passed and it had gone full circle. Our last chance for peace no longer existed and we all fell into a collective feeling of despair.

I was 16 when I left home and stole away to Earth. I figured that if I could get some kind of job and start a life on Earth I would be okay. I would be able to send for my family when things settled down, and hopefully they would still be ok.

I did not anticipate Earth to be as it was. The social hierarchy there was worse than that of the colonies. Either you were a solider, a student, or a citizen – the latter was not looked highly upon as far as I could tell. They say the grass is always greener on the other side . . . Earth, if it was possible, was in worse shape than the colonies.

I was still young however, and lost in the illusion that things would get better in time. Everyone wanted change, yet no one could do much about it. The joy of people's lives was replaced with fear, cynicism, and the downward spiral of chaos was increasing.

I was 25 when Treize Khushrenada came to power. His elite soldiers seemed to hold the key to the future and for some reason I felt compelled to join. I hated the Alliance for what they had done; yet I truly believed that I could make a difference somehow. So I joined, and for once in my life I felt control over what was happening around me. I was no longer a meaningless pawn that was thrown out at the beginning of the game. I had a reason to live.

When I graduated and received my own mobile suit I had my doubts. Was I to become exactly what it was that I never wanted to be? Was this the right thing for me to do? I was no longer sure if the path I was about to embark on was the right one. And in the end, I decided it was right for the moment.

I had been serving in OZ for two years before the first signs of a counter attack began to take place. From space, the colonies, my home, came the five Gundams that brought about more change that anyone had anticipated.

Naturally, The Specials were the first ordered to fight these rebels. I went into battle that day not knowing what would come of anything. I was a kid again watching the Alliance take over my home, and I was petrified. Was I supposed to fight against them? Was I supposed to fight against the colonies? I was ordered to do so, but could I live with myself if I did?

So, I stood at the edge of the battlefield watching everything. I watched as my fellow soldiers fell and as the devastation consumed the surrounding area. I could hear every scream of my comrades and hear each gun fire. I could feel every blow and every curse that was executed. I watched as the Gundams pulled out of the fight with only a few of the OZ suits left standing and the entire base destroyed.

After the battle I left OZ. I could not stand to fight against the people that I joined OZ to protect. Why does a nameless solider fight? Those who died, what were they fighting for? I could not understand. I was fighting for a reason to live and fighting to protect my home. Maybe I was no different than those who I was forced to fight. Maybe there are no answers to these questions.

In twenty-four hours my life had again changed drastically. The colonies were fighting back for once, and there was a small shimmer of hope inside of me again. The Earth was struggling against the Gundams and I no longer felt the need to stay. Something was finally going right in my life. Something that I struggled with for 10 years was finally coming to and end.

Even though the Earth would come out less than perfect, I didn't care. I was going home and that's all that mattered to me. OZ, The Alliance, they no longer had control over me.

I stepped off the shuttle to find my home in ruins. I had no idea if my family was still alive, and if they were, would they still be there. With the retaliation of the Gundams, OZ had tightened their control over the colonies and from what I could tell the colonies were beginning to accept them.

I felt like screaming. I saw what had happened on Earth. I had battled and I had seen my own men fall at the hands of those I should have been fighting with from the start. And even now, those who had sent them forth into the world were rejecting the Gundams. And like all that had come before, my hope faded like the setting sun. After coming home to nothing and leaving nothing, there was nothing left to look forward to.

My whole life, I wanted change. My whole life has been spent living in fear of the future, yet with some, small, faint sight of hope there as well. My whole life I worked to make things better where I could and I ended up not doing a damn thing.

Everyone wants something different in the life. For us, for the people of space, all we wanted was a little freedom. We didn't think about what this freedom would cost, and we expected it come easily. If I have learned one thing after everything I have been through, it’s that freedom, like everything else in life, has to be achieved.

I was the first to point out when there was something wrong and the last to do anything to help right it. I sat about and happily diagnosed the problem while I offered no solution. And now, I watch the chaos that has become my home and my life and I wonder if this is worth our freedom.

Because when the people of space prayed for change, this isn't what we meant.

* * *

We dared to ask for more
But that was long before the nights began to burn
You would have thought we'd learned
You can't make promises all based upon tomorrow
Happiness, security are words we only borrowed

For is this the answer to our prayers, is this was God has sent?
Please understand this isn't what we meant

The future couldn't last, we nailed it to the past
With every word a trap that no one can take
Back from all the architects who find their towers leaning
And every prayer we pray at night has somehow lost its meaning

For is this the answer to our prayers, is this was God has sent?
Please understand this isn't what we meant

A long time ago when the world was pretty
Standing right here in a different city
They're not coming back any more
They're not coming back any...

Is this the answer to our prayers, is this was God has sent?
Please understand this isn't what we meant

the gardens have all been overgrown...

Sun, 11 Feb 2007 06:24:24 GMT

title: perfection
characters: narcissa (♥)
fandom: hp
challenge: cast [for hp100]

She was always the picture of perfection. On the arm of Lucius, socializing with other wizarding elite or sitting comfortably near the fire enjoying the company of her family. She never let her mask slip – the role of the perfect wife, perfect mother, perfect pureblood witch.

Sitting endlessly, staring out past the frozen, overgrown gardens and past the cast iron fence of Malfoy Manor, she maintains her perfect appearance even now as the house becomes a tomb around her. Yes, Narcissa will continue to play her part, perfect and silent, even if her son and husband will never return.

title: infatuation
characters: ron, harry/draco(ish)
fandom: hp
challenge: cast [for hp100]

Unfortunately for Ron, it was no longer his first year at Hogwarts and the spells he cast tended to actually work properly. Typically this was regarded as a good thing especially by Hermione who long ago grew tired of cleaning up messes and covering up mistakes.

As Ron backed up against the corridor, he wished that he still had a broken wand that did more harm to him that anyone else. It was one thing to have Draco mad, which was common enough, but Harry… He could only hope the infatuation charm he used would wear off without any causalities.

she sells sanctuary (or i've been writing a lot of fic lately)

Thu, 08 Feb 2007 05:52:43 GMT

title: she sells sanctuary
characters: relena, dorothy
fandom: gw
challenge: author's choice [ for gw500 ]
notes: reminiscent of an old fic i wrote like 5ish years ago ("i hear the mourning chior," anyone?). inspired by the cult song of the same name.

It’s never been easy for me, but I’ve always played my role well. I stood up straight, smiled and waved, politely answered questions and felt eyes follow me as I walked away. I always kept my head down. I was not proud, I was not content, but I was strong, even then. And it seemed like I was playing my part perfectly, acting the perfect daughter, the perfect little girl.

But that all ended fast enough, didn’t it?

In the sunset, on the beach, even with his hand over his eyes, I could see something in them, something he tried to hide. That is cliché, I know, but true nonetheless. Though, at the time I didn’t know what that look was, how could I? Even now, suppose I still don’t, but I can imagine it was a mix of pride and fear. Even with a gun pointed at me, I couldn’t stop staring into his eyes.

For a long time after that, his look of determination kept me going.

The world shifted after that, subtly at first, then drastically. He disappeared along with the mysterious others who had come to Earth. And in their wake, my bother, a bother I’ve never known, appeared. Those in power moved and struggled amongst themselves – the lines between good and bad blurred beyond recognition – and in the mist of it all a new leader emerged: Me.

But even the idea of pacifism that I preached was quickly perverted.

It was easy enough for my opposition to use me for their own gain and it was easy enough for me to fall into my old roles of feigned perfection with artificial smiles. I stood tall and pretty, passive, and seemingly innocent – though not so much anymore. But they made the mistake of letting me speak with a silken harshness that awoke the people. And with everyone’s eyes on me, once again, I failed to notice the intensity of one particular pair.

And even with my crown taken away, that gaze still followed me.

It was different this time. Her ideals endlessly clashed with mine, though she hung on my every word, and her actions seemed rash. When I finally noticed her eyes, the passion was there much like his, yet there was so much more. And just as quickly she was gone, both of us lost in the endlessness of space. But when I closed my eyes, I could see the fire in hers, as if I had been staring into the sun.

When he appeared before me again, his eyes were shadowed by the intensity of hers.

When the dust settled, for that brief moment that it did, she appeared before me again. Her eyes still full of fire, burned differently now. I understood that she, too, had played a part much like mine, only now her role had ended. We had both been changed and molded against our will by the people and events around us. We both needed something solid, something real – an escape.

And in her, I finally found sanctuary.

* * *

Oh the heads that turn make my back burn
oh the heads that turn make my back make my back burn

the sparkle in your eyes keeps me alive
the sparkle in your eyes keeps me alive keeps me alive

the world and the world turns around
the world and the world yeah the world drags me down

oh the heads that turn make my back burn
and those heads that turn make my back make my back burn

yeah the fire in your eyes keeps me alive
the fire in your eyes keeps me alive

I'm sure in her you'll find the sanctuary
I'm sure in her you'll find the sanctuary

not forgotten

Tue, 30 Jan 2007 06:57:03 GMT

title: not forgotten
characters: draco, voldy, harry
fandom: hp
challenge: wands [for hp100]

. . .

When it was unveiled it was not majestic like Hogwarts. And though gossip is whispered and tales spun in it’s halls, it is no tavern or inn. Still, it drew witches and wizards from the world around.

The supporters, fans that came in droves trickled away until only friends and family - ever devoted, respectful – remained. But, always there, silent, Draco came out of hate. Or love. It’s hard to tell.

Together they stood, eyes empty, hearts full, looking into the display case that held Voldemort’s broken wand and the pristine wand of the one who died to save them.

light pollution

Tue, 23 Jan 2007 03:39:49 GMT

title: light pollution
characters: sirius black
fandom: hp
challenge: material [for hp100]
. . .

He couldn’t tell if he were right side up or upside down. He supposed it didn’t much matter – the stars spread out before him in all directions seemed so close here, at the end. The rational part of his brain knew he had been floating? falling? for a very long time. Every second? day? year? that passed, he enjoyed the emptiness more. The longer he fell the less he could remember the death and destruction, evil and the savior, chaos. The less he could remember the silken veil slip through his fingers as he struggled not to fall.

i die, die in my day dreams. . .

Tue, 16 Jan 2007 08:26:02 GMT

title: i die in my daydreams
characters: harry, you know who
fandom: hp
challenge: dream [for hp100]

He’s on his knees, panting, sweating, reaching wildly around, searching for his glasses, his wand, anything. The edges of the graveyard waver, move, close in on Harry as he kneels. This is the brink of defeat.

Voldemort raises his wand slowly, “Are you ready, Potter…”

His voice fades.

“Potter?” Now irritation fills his ears. “Potter? Whenever you are ready…”

Harry Potter’s eyes shoot open as he jumps out of his seat, ignoring the sniggers from his classmates. Normal, boring, seventeen-year-old Harry moves to the board, staring in confusing at the calculation written in chalk, rubbing his forehead in pain.

the return of drabblefest!!

Thu, 11 Jan 2007 08:59:59 GMT

The once time regular drabblefest that Kate and I do is hopefully back!! I had such a good time tonight writing - it had been far, far too long. In fact, I ended up writing a fic for a fandom I haven't written for in, oh, about FIVE YEARS! Oh, and some may be slightly over 100 words, but I just couldn't cut them down anymore. I'm not in love with any of these, but, hey, I'm kinda rusty... enjoy anyway!

Pairing: Snape/??
Fandom: HP
Inspiration: "We are each the love of someone else's life."

There’s a book that he keeps locked in his wardrobe, locked in his quarters. It’s red leather faded and worn from too much love. Or hate. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference. The soft pages are filled with pictures and small notes, meticulous and written with care. They are all there, people who touched, changed, his life: Potter, Evans, Black, Malfoy, Lupin… Each one frowning at him, not angry but sad, never waving. And all Snape can think is that he’s not young and not happy, and most likely, already blew whatever chance of love he may have had.

. . .

Pairing: None
Fandom: HP
Inspiration: "I decided, very early on, to just accept life unconditionally."

For as long as I can remember, I have taken all of what life had to offer me, no questions asked. Maybe I should have paid attention once in a while to what was going on around me. Instead, I followed my path, began my training, embraced my act, my part to play. I accepted my so-called fate, just like I was told. But now, years after I told myself I’d take life as it came to me, I stand in the wake of the carnage and wonder what I’m fighting for. Wonder if I could’ve changed anything at all…

Notes: This could be a number of people in a number of fandoms... To me, it's Draco's POV, but interpret as you will.

. . .

Pairing: None
Fandom: Newsies
Inspiration: "Our lust for life had gone away with the rent we hated."

It’s only a matter of time before this job gets to you because it’s more than just a job - it’s a life, your whole life, usually. The intrigue of the streets, the freedom, they all get old fast. A few actually had family to return to, some had hobbies, addictions that kept them in the game. Me, I had nothing more than a fractured dream and some loose change. Not enough to change anything for myself, and barely enough to hand over to Kloppman. But at this point, the deathly cold may be the only thing to look forward to. . .

. . .

Pairing: 13x6 (!!)
Fandom: GW (!!!)
Inspiration: "It gets worse every time we talk."

The full extent of one’s power is never truly realized until that power has been taken away. Once upon a time, I held the future in the palm of my hand and could changed the world, dare I say universe?, with my whispers. But all that’s changed. I now live the life of someone who has been made redundant, made useless by machines. And you, one of the few who understands me, the only thing you keep changing is your name and every time we speak, the bad news never stops. Will history remember us through these fragments of conversations or through our actions?

not without hope - for vicious ♥

Wed, 20 Dec 2006 17:58:42 GMT

title: not without hope
pairing: lucious/snape (?!)
fandom: hp
notes: a requested drabble for the wonderful Vicious Malicious, vmalicious. she wanted this paring loaded with angst.... i did what i could...

They came to him like leeches, the students did, draining him of his energy and patience until he could do nothing but sit in the dim light of his classroom, head in hands, hair hanging in front of his face. And like clockwork, once a month, his reluctant colleague, and even more reluctant friend came, swallowing snarls and shading animalistic eyes, wearing him even thinner as he worked relentlessly on perfecting the potion, until he could only sigh and shudder as he watched the sleeping beast.

But it was always days when he dealt with leeches and werewolves, that the vampire would come to him, cloaked by the night. For what else could he be, someone who drank his very soul with a look, and consumed his being with the simplest kiss? Already reduced to a shell of a man, alone in his dark quarters, Snape could never tell if he was being put together or broke apart by the blond who had recently been whispering lies and love into his ears. He only knew that Lucious would be the death of him, one way or another and, really, that impending release is the only thing that allows him sleep.

Pands, I have one for you, too. It'll be up soon. I suck.

the perfect drug

Tue, 24 May 2005 23:43:23 GMT

Just found this. I don't know if I've posted it before or when I wote it. Le sigh.

title: Intoxicating
pairing: narcissa/lucius (my het otp!! woot)
fandom: hp

Once she couldn’t get his whispers out of her ears. She could always feel his lips ghosting on her skin and his warm breath tickling even hours after, when he was no longer there. She was drawn to him, that was obvious enough, and they made such an elegant pair with their hair of spun gold and their haunting eyes. Both of them well known and prestigious, it made perfect sense.

Once she would laugh and his eyes would light up. He could watch her for hours doing the simplest of things, watching her fragile hands and wondering how they hadn’t shattered. Whatever anyone said about them, no one could deny their love and passion for each other. It spilled out of them like wine over the edge of a glass, staining the white lace.

His whispers started to change; it wasn’t so much his soul speaking anymore but another force behind his tongue. And she would still laugh, but often the sound was empty and hollow. By this time they were already devoted to each other, tied together for everything. It was unspoken but amazingly strong.

When the world fell apart, she stood by his side without a thought. It was easy enough to understand why. He never stopped whispering into her ear and she would laugh behind her hand as the green light flashed all around her. She was safe and dizzy, and he guided her until the world stopped shaking.

Her hair wasn’t so much gold anymore, along the way it had lost it shine and both of their eyes held secrets, hers unknown and his full of rage. They were no longer the glamorous couple they once were. But she was already addicted to him, and he could never let his own drug go.

100word drabbles

Fri, 29 Apr 2005 19:16:32 GMT

pairing: harry, ?
fandom: hp
inspiration: Blood Sweat and Tears

He coughed up tears, choking on his regret. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. Apparently, Harry hadn’t learned.

Earlier, if the room was dark or light he didn’t know; his eyelids spellotaped shut. He could taste the copper of the blood and assumed it was his own. He wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. Above him, or next to him, maybe, he could hear unsteady breathing.

His hair pressed flat for once against his head and his body contorted. He wasn’t sure if he screamed at all, but he knew if he did it was pain not pleasure.

pairing: hermione
fandom: hp
inspiration: Blood Sweat and Tears (2)

Hermione couldn’t move. Her heart beat, pumping blood through her veins to her heart, but every other function seemed to have stopped. Here eyes, frozen open in surprise, or was it shock, (it was actually awe), she doesn’t even notice when they start to water for lack of blinking.

Any other time she could have identified who it was by and when. She could have looked away and maybe felt that telltale prickle on the back of her neck and felt her cold sweat. But Hermione was entranced, and that’s just how the basilisk found her.

The painting wasn’t harmed.

pairing: harry, ron, nevil
fandom: hp
inspiration: gone but not forgotten
i think this was ala riddlemesphinx ♥

His initiation into the group was one of those catch-22 things. Only he tried his best not to think about it. For once, it wasn’t his fault, but people looked at him that way anyway.

He had never had a best friend before, or any friends before Hogwarts, even. And now he had two of them (and a dark shadow hanging over his head).

At Hermione’s funeral he cried and held Harry and Ron as if he had been there all along. At Hermione’s funeral he cried too, and Neville hated himself for half of those tears being from happiness.

ps. it's been over a year since i posted in this journal. crazy.

paper in the rain

Thu, 25 Mar 2004 05:44:01 GMT

Diary

Even now, one year later, Ginny doesn't trust any seemingly inanimate object. It takes her hours to just gather the courage to write one character on a parchment nonetheless a twelve inch essay on moonstone properties and she struggles every time she needs to open a book.

She used to think herself such a brave Gryffindor.

But Ginny never speaks of the things she saw. She'll sit with an almost vacant look on her face as she composes herself in class. Only now all of her secrets go on her own skin where she knows they will be washed away.

Mon, 15 Mar 2004 07:10:57 GMT

title : spoons
fandom : lotr rps
challange : competition
for 15minuteficlets

Dom has that gleam in his eye, the one that said "you have no idea what you are getting into." Lij may have noticed, except he, like Dom, had been drinking for the past two hours and seemed to think that this was a perfectly rational idea. After all, they were both even at the moment: seven beers each. So when Lij pulled out a bottle of Jack, two shot glasses and a pack of cards, Dom said "Bring it on." Billy and Orli rolled their eyes, grabbed their beers and went to move away. Unfortunately for them, they didn't get too far.

Of course the first problem was what to play. Red-Black-High-Low got old quick and it would end too quickly. Dom couldn't remember if he knew how to play Big Two or Thirteens, and Lij wasn't sure if there was actually a difference and even so, he didn't remember how it worked as a drinking game. Dom suggested Kings but Lij protested saying there were too many rules. Neither Billy nor Orli were being of much help.

Eventually Lij stalked off to the kitchen and came back with an evil grin and three spoons. He laid them on the floor and ordered everyone to form a circle around them as he separated four sets of four cards out of the deck.

Orli lost first, grapping Billy's finger thinking it was the spoon. He took his shot was a grimace and swig of beer. Lij lost second when he thought he had four kings, not noticing the ace hidden between two of them. His shot went down with a glare. Dom scratched his nose and lost. Orli was laughing to hard to take grab the spoons when he actually won. Billy almost won, but Dom grabbed the spoon out of his hand. This went on for a while.

When Orli excused himself to the bathroom, a green tint to his face, Lij suggested tackle spoons. Billy ran away quickly and Dom picked up the nearly empty bottle of Jack, holding it up to Lij's face.

Lij pouted, realizing their game was over, then quickly smiled, stood up and pulled Dom to his feet as well.

"Call it a draw?" He asked. Dom nodded. "Bed?"

"Bed." Dom agreed, following Lij.

Hogwarts : The Musical !!

Mon, 15 Mar 2004 05:50:08 GMT

Title: Hogwarts: The Musical
Challange: Genre - Musical
for hp100
__________

Dumbledore stood up at breakfast and spoke, except he was singing. No one paid much attention, chalking up to Dumbledore being Dumbledore, until McGonagall tap danced through Transfiguration. Even then it wasn't that weird. It was Snape that shocked them all, delivering his entire lecture in a surprisingly nice soprano.

And then before anyone knew it, Draco and Harry were leading the class in a song and dance number that ended in the Great Hall: Draco dipping Harry, the school applauding, students bowing.

The next morning everyone tried to figure out what happened as Fred and George laughed to themselves.

i am jack's re-edit

Tue, 24 Feb 2004 05:31:07 GMT

Well, I got bored and decided to re-edit iwbgamb so I can get around to actually finishing it one of these days. I mean, I'm taking some rather boring classes... Also, I have some promises I need to fulfill in the chapters yet to come...

Title: I Will Be Good At Making Bad - Chapter One
Author: 3
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
Pairings: pre-slash! What fun!!
Disclaimer: Don't own anything that isn't mine.
Notes: Re-edit! Or really, if I want to be honest, finally an edit. Ha! Pretend there is no OotP, thanks.
Warnings: Ambiguous!Lucius, Interior Design!Draco, and some other random crap.
For my muse and best friend vinylnomiko. I ♥ you.

If there was one good thing you could say about Voldemort, it was that he was a patient man. He did wait nearly 10 years for someone to find him and allow him to possess their body after his untimely defeat. And even after losing a second time, he had bided his time, waiting to strike. However, these days his patience was wearing thin. It wasn't so much that Harry Potter would foil his plans again, but that his Death Eaters were a bunch of fools. Even now, as he stood watching them in the shadows of his super secret lair, Voldemort felt the all too familiar urge to throttle someone.

One by one, the Death Eaters apparated into his super secret lair then rushed over to a table against the far wall and tried to grab a jelly dough-knut before they ran out.

Voldemort decided it was probably not a good thing that their mere presence annoyed him to no end, but he was an evil overlord and as such he needed evil minions. So Voldemort kept them around.

Once the last of the Death Eaters arrived, looking like idiots, while they attempted to eat dough-knuts with the hoods of their Death Eater Robes up over their heads. Voldemort stepped from the shadows followed closely by Wormtail, looking more like a beaten puppy than someone who was attempting to be Voldemort's right hand man. He cleared his throat and the Death Eaters formed a semicircle around him. Voldemort looked around at all of them and rolled his snake-like eyes. "It's the best I can do," his inter monologue reminded himself.

"Before we get started I need a progress report. Goyle, how are things at the ministry?" Voldemort asked a figure to his right.

Across the circle someone stepped forward. "Very well, my Lord. Fudge suspects nothing, of course."

"Indeed," Voldemort replied, annoyed that Goyle was not where he at first thought. "Lucius," he rounded on the figure next to Goyle, "and how are things in your operation?"

The first man that Voldemort addressed stepped forward.

"Oh, for crying out loud! Take off those damned hoods. They are for raids, when you are outside, all that stuff. You all bloody well know each other here!"

They all pulled their hoods back at Voldemort's outburst.

"Now, the status, Lucius?"

"We seem to have run into some minor problems" Lucius started.

"Explain."

"It's, my son, Draco. I have come to believe that he is a-" He looked around the room.

"Spit it out!"

"Flaming Fag." Lucius finished lamely. A startled gasp moved around the room. "I know! I mean, I know he liked to polish his broom handle a lot, and that he had a thing for black thongs, but I thought that was normal," The group nodded. "And then yesterday I found him knitting!"

"No!" came the response from the Death Eaters.

"Yes! I didn't even see it coming. Was it something I did? He couldn't have found my-" He cleared his throat then continued, abandoning his first train of thought. "Did I not love him enough?!"

Lucius sighed a big melodramatic sigh that only he could pull off and the Death Eaters circled around him.

"You can't blame yourself, Malfoy. These things happen."

"You always complained how much the boy shopped."

"And he does dress well."

Voldemort was getting frustrated. These were his minions and yet they were pawning over Malfoy. Of course, he reasoned that they would pawn over anything as shiny as Lucius' hair, but damn it, he hated being ignored. And that was where his psychiatrist said the problems began….

Voldemort whipped out some parchment and wrote Lucius's name under "People who I will consider thinking about killing." The only other thing on the paper was, "Annoying gits who keep getting away that I want to kill: Harry Potter." Yes, Voldemort, was very organized when it came to his job.

The Dark Lord put his list away, stamped his foot and cleared his throat. The Death Eaters fawning over Malfoy straightened and scattered back to their semicircle.

"Malfoy, this is all very touching, I'm sure. And if I could feel anything other than hate, jealousy, and self-pity I might feel bad for you. But really I fail to see how Draco being gay is at all relevant," Voldemort said in his 'I'm better than you are' voice.

"I have reason to believe that my son fancies," He gulped, "Harry Potter."

---

Lucius apparated into his den more than a little upset. The weekly Death Eater meeting had not gone over well. First, someone took the last jelly dough-knut. Then, if that wasn't bad enough, he had practically out-ed his son to the group and almost broke down in front of the Dark Lord, no less.

It wasn't so much that he valued the Dark Lord's opinion, really. The Death Eaters were more a practical thing for him. Join the ranks, learn to manipulate people as only an evil overlord can, and escape Narcissa once a week. And if it wasn't for the added perks of being a Death Eater, Lucius doubted he would have joined.

But all of that didn't really matter at the moment. He needed to get to the bottom of his son's odd behavior. It wasn't everyday you saw a Malfoy male walking around knitting a silver and green scarf. Not in this generation, anyway.

"Draco!" He called upstairs to his son, "We need to talk!"

Draco came strolling down the stairs shaking his hands lightly and sat down across from where his father was pacing back and forth.

"Yes?"

"Draco, I realize that you are a little old for this, but there comes a time in a man's life when he begins to feel things-"

"Are you trying to tell me about the birds and the bees?" Draco interrupted, "Because if you are, you're about 6 years too late."

"I am?"

"Of course you had Dobby tell me last time and let me tell you how disturbing that was at eleven. He kept getting off track, talking about how his master never gave him, how did he put it? 'Permission to lose himself in throes of orgasmic pleasure.'"

Lucius spluttered and slid into his seat.

"Good thing I didn't have to see him much after that, leaving for Hogwarts and all. Of course now he works there-"

"Thank you, Draco," Lucius said before his son could say anymore. "That was information I could have lived without knowing, kind of like the way Snape does that thing with, um, never mind."

"Right. Well, I'm sure there is a reason you brought me down here," Draco said examining his still wet nails. "So, in the interest of saving time, why don't you tell me what you want?"

"I was trying to broach the subject carefully, but seeing as that didn't work... Draco, do you fancy your own?"

"What?"

"You are strong. You are in control of the situation," Lucius breathed and Draco could hear Lucius just enough to remind himself to find a new hiding place for his father's self help books.

"What was that?" Draco asked innocently.

"Are you gay?!" Lucius yelled as he pushed the chair away and stood again.

Draco raised his lined eyes and studied his father unsure if he was serious or not, then laughed.

"You're serious?"

"Does this seem like something I would joke about?"

"Dad, where were you last Christmas eve?"

"Don't change the subject," Lucius snarled.

"I'm not."

"I was here with you and Narcissa."

"Right, well, where were you when I CAME OUT THAT NIGHT?!"

"You did?"

Draco sighed, "What part of 'Mum, Dad, I'm gay' did you not understand?"

"How did your mother take it?"

"I received condoms and lubricant in my stocking the next morning."

"What?!"

"I should be offended, you know."

"Get over yourself, Draco."

"That's typical. You don't even know I'm here until you want to know if I like guys. Why did you even ask?"

"I want you to come to the next meeting with me," Lucius shrugged.

"I fail to see the connection."

"Draco, I will accept the fact that you prefer the cock…"

"You don't have to say it that way," Draco spat.

"But, we need to continue as usual. This includes Death Eater meetings as well as regular muggle tormenting and antique collecting."

"And you wonder why I'm gay," Draco mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Do I have to wear Death Eater Brand™ robes? Because they really do nothing for my figure."

"Of course you do! Your figure should be the least of your worries. You are going to be with a bunch of middle-aged men and Snake-Man," A pause. "Oh, I understand. You like older men." Lucius put a comforting had on Draco's shoulder.

"Right, Dad. You have it all figured out," Draco rolled his eyes, "Couldn't I just alter the robes a bit?"

"No."

"But if I…."

"Look, Draco. I know what it's like to want to show off your body to someone, like that time I bumped into Lupin wearing-" Lucius coughed and continued. "But the point is the Dark Lord picked out the robes for a reason."

"I'm sure they work great for He-Who-Has-No-Fashion-Sense, but…."

"Draco."

"Fine!" Draco stormed out of the room, throwing the door open. "Damn it! I chipped my nail polish!"

That seemed to send Lucius over the edge. He buried his face in his hands and prepared for a mental breakdown. He brought his head down to the table with a resounding thud.

"What happened?" Narcissa asked, rushing into the room.

"My son is a fag!" Lucius exclaimed throwing himself back into his chair.

"Well, obviously, Lucius," she said and walked away.

---

A week later, Draco found himself standing in the corner of a room in Voldemort's super secret lair, which, as Draco had found out, was really a mansion charmed to look like a cave. Draco watched the Death Eaters argue over the dough-knuts and he finally understood where the "Eater" part of their name came from. The Death Eater Brand™ robes had been delivered to Draco that morning and, thus he was unable to alter them in any way. He looked around the room in disgust. Not only was it poorly decorated, but also the whole operation was a joke. The super secret lair was just the tip of the iceberg and as for the Death Eaters, well; Draco was beginning to hope that his father had some ulterior motives for joining the ranks.

Voldemort finally swept into the room in an over theatric manner that caused Draco to stifle a snigger. The Death Eaters, however, seemed quite impressed and quickly gathered around him like good little minions.

"Do we have to do this every week?" Voldemort asked with an exasperated sigh. "How many times have we gone over when and when not to wear the hoods?"

Around the room the Death Eaters faces came into view.

"Ah, young mister Malfoy. So kind of you to join us today." Draco tried not to flinch under the snake like eyes.

"A pleasure, I'm sure." Draco drawled.

"You are not happy to be here." It wasn't a question.

"Honestly, no. These robes are atrocious and the design and lay out of this 'lair' is hideous." Some Death Eaters laughed nervously unsure of Draco was incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.

"Is that so?" Voldemort asked looking around the room. "You see, after being nearly non-existent for so long I fail to notice trivial things like interior design."

"Perfectly understandable."

"But from what I know of you, young Malfoy, you have an eye. From now, on I dub you The Official Death Eater Interior Design Boy and Junior Death Eater."

Lucius clapped proudly along with the other Death Eaters, grateful that the Dark Lord hadn't rejected his son.

"Uh, thank you?" Draco managed.

"Very good." Voldemort clasped his hands together like and over excited schoolteacher. "Now, let's say the pledge and get down to business."

The Death Eaters immediately raised their right hands.

"Repeat after me: I State your name." Voldemort said and then rolled his eyes muttering "squibs" as they repeated exactly what he said rather than substituting their own names. "Pledge allegiance to the Dark Lord. And to the evil for which he stands." The Death Eaters repeated then all together said, "Rah, rah, rah! Yay Purebloods!"

"That was pathetic," Draco thought as he rolled his eyes.

"Wormtail!" Voldemort called and a short man with a fake hand came scurrying into view.
"Young Malfoy, Pettigrew will give you grand tour of the lair so you can get a feel for what it is you think needs work." He turned to the rest of the group, "Now, down to business."

Draco thanked Voldemort and politely followed Wormtail, "Thank you Mr. Pettigrew."

"Call me Wormtail, Draco."

"Sorry, Mr. Wormtail."

"No, not Mr. Worm… no, wait. I kind of like that. Mr. Wormtail. It's dignified."

"Right. Of course." Draco sneered once he left the presence of the Dark Lord and his father. It wasn't as if he wanted to impress Voldemort, but Draco knew how to act around important people and how to treat anyone below him. And Wormtail was obviously below him.

Indeed, Draco was surprised that his father actually enjoyed coming to these meetings. While he wasn't entirely sure about his father's loyalties when it came to Voldemort, as with Lucius you could never be sure of anything, but he did understand that for some reason this was important to him. What Draco couldn't grasp was how an idiot like Voldemort could get so powerful? And how the hell did he have so many damn followers? He sincerely hoped that "How to Back Stab an Evil Over Lord for Dummies" was one of the self-help books that he had not managed to hide from his father.

"Wormtail, take a note," Draco commanded walking around what looked like an unfurnished dining room, completely ignoring the "That's Mr. Wormtail to you," that followed.

Draco spun around the room looking. Then started listing things, "I need Prouves Shelves, a candle ledge alter, a few ribbon lamps, an old world chandelier, a chaise lounge or two, oriental rugs, a buffet cabinet, hand painted screen, and drapes, heavy, preferably in velvet. That takes care of mostly this room and the main room we meet in. Perhaps, an oak dining room table with high back chairs." All the while, Wormtail was frantically searched through his pockets looking for a piece of parchment. Draco continued. "I want all the material in black and silver, nothing tacky in odd shapes or colours, we're going for simple, yet elegant here. Do you have all that?"

Draco finally turned to find Wormtail dipping his quill in ink for the first time.

"Uh, could you say that again?" He asked Draco, who threw his hands up in frustration.

"Can you fire evil minions?"

"No. We have a union."

"You're kidding." Draco didn't wait for an answer and stormed into the main meeting room. He stopped in his tracks when he saw what was going on in that room. The Death Eaters looked up at his gasp.

"Charades?" He yelled. "Screw this! I'm going home!"

And for the first time, Draco prayed to God, or his toothbrush or whatever entity that would listen that his father was really scheming something behind the Dark Lord's back.

search for witty things to say

Sun, 22 Feb 2004 07:25:42 GMT

riddlemesphinx my lovely partner in drabble and I spent a wonderful saturday night writing away. Oh how I ♥ her. In fact you might say, she's a royed!! ahahaha!! Anyway, I really love the first and the third one, the second didn't turn out right. pity.

pairing: lucius/narcissa (my het otp!! *gasp*)
fandom: hp
inspiration: "you can bet your bottom dollar, in time, you're gonna be mine"

She thought it absolutely absurd. He of all people should know that she could never be bought. Not with her long hair, the spun gold of fairy tales and her eyes, the lost sapphires of kings. And especially not with her surname, the cold emptiness of ancient frozen hearts.

But there was something about the way he walked, his arrogance, his insubordination maybe, that she first noticed. His complete audacity, open hands offering up a velvet box filled with ancient jewels from his own lineage.

No, Narcissa Black could not be bought, but she was naïve enough to confuse beauty and love.

pairing: ron/harry?
fandom: hp
inspiration: "and i do believe that i can be a hero. but i'm not so far gone as to believe i can make you fall in love with me"

He knew fame in the true sense of the word. Not from personal experience, not really anyway. He had always been just on the fringes. But, oh, the stories he could tell.

He had always been right there with him, maybe one step behind, but there nonetheless. And if anyone was honest about these things, he would have to get some credit.

Because Ronald Weasley doesn't believe in fate and the thing about coincidences is that he is never in the right place at the right time. It would have been so easy for him to be the one they are all celebrating, he thinks, sipping his drink. But he knows he could never be at the other end of that gaze and for him that would have been enough.

pairing: various
fandom: newsies
inspiration: "and i wish you could see the scars you've left over the years"
notes: i really like to fuck with them. sorry, guys.

Race smokes cigars and puts them out in his thighs when things get too bad. Skittery knows this but he ignores the marks just like Race ignores the tic-tac-toe of faded lines across Skittery's abdomen.

Mush's bruises don't show that much because of his skin, but he still tries to hide them. It's as if he's ashamed to let Blink see them, even in the dark with Blink's disfigured eye revealed, and the gravel burns still healing on his neck.

David gets the worst of it because he is so fresh and pure. And there is always someone to knock him down to his knees when he thinks he is better than that.

Jack's scars are invisible, but they run deep. In his own way of showing he cares, Spot never asks anything of Jack. And in return, Jack turns his head when he sees his friends led off while Spot counts his money.

sure he was something to be ashamed of

Fri, 20 Feb 2004 19:22:49 GMT

pairing: orlilly
fandom: lotr rps
challenge: disguise
for 15minuteficlets

The first times they went out he wore a hat, dark blue and low over his eyes. Billy opened his throat to the cool drink; sure he was something to be ashamed of. Flushed, Billy avoided eye contact the rest of the night, afraid of what he might show there.

In the dim lights of the bedroom, where the relationship had really begun, Orlando let his hair fall free, dividing his face into uneven parts. Billy would often push the hair behind his ears only to laugh when it fell free a moment later. And he would never think about going out or the faces Orlando never shows outside the locked room.

Orlando pulled the green and white trucker hat down, shielding his face from the sun, Billy likes to pretend. Only, even though Elijah said it looks better sideways, Orlando was quick to pull the hat back down over his face. His eyes dart around and Billy looks away, biting at the insides of his cheeks.

Billy is by the door, keys in hand, ready for the night. Orlando can't find the hat he wanted and Orlando won't go out with the hat. Billy sighs and throws the keys back onto the table and stalks off into the living room. Orlando finds Billy five minutes later, wiping away tears, holding a hat in his hands. He says nothing, only hands Orlando the hat and lowers his head.

Orlando runs his fingers through his hair before putting on the hat and sits down next to Billy, reaching out to touch his arm. Billy looks at Orlando then looks away, and Orlando is reaching out for him again, questioning look in his eyes. Billy slowly reaches up and removes the hat, setting it carefully on the coffee table.

And Orlando's laughing because he finally understands and Billy is trying to frown at him.

"You think I don't want to be seen with you?" He says through laughter.

Billy doesn't answer, but he's having a hard time frowning.

"I just don't want to be seen, Billy. But if I have to be seen, then let it be with you."

Billy's laughing through the last of his tears and Orlando is offering him a hand up on his way to the door. The hat still on the coffee table.

murder by death

Fri, 06 Feb 2004 03:23:42 GMT

pairing: javey
fandom: afi
challenge: technicolour

Your hands tighten and he relaxes against your mouth in supreme understanding. In those first moments you imagine it was a flash of light that filled his eyes, the way they glossed over, mouth frozen in a silent exaltation. You pull away, a smile slowly curving your lips as the Rorschach appears on his once colourless skin.

Mine, is what you see.

Walking away, your footfalls echo like his once upon a time heartbeat. You will never forget how the cut glass sent rainbows across his face, even for just a moment of perfected time. A moment now capsulized forever.

old-ish drabbles in a new post

Thu, 29 Jan 2004 22:46:18 GMT

pairing: domlija
fandom: lotr rps
challenge: peanut butter

Elijah, clad only in boxers, was carefully balanced on the counter, digging through cupboards, throwing unwanted boxes and bags over his shoulder and across the room. Dominic smiled as he watched.

Elijah made a triumphant noise and jumped off the counter, pulling open a drawer and grabbing a spoon. He dipped it in the jar, took a bite and frowned, examining the label.

"Something wrong?"

"I have to get my mom to send American peanut butter. There's no sugar in this crap."

Dominic laughed and Elijah flicked the spoon at him.

"Or I can just eat it off you."

pairing: billinic
fandom: lotr rps
challenge: magic eight ball

When it hits the floor blue puddles everywhere and you're this close to screaming because it still won't give you the right answer. These days you're used to getting everything you want.

Dominic and Billy pass the drink between each other, laughing. You sit across from them and put on a smile, rolling the ball between your hands underneath the table.

You move your lips silently, asking if Billy will ever be yours. You know that this time the answer will be different. But when you lower your eyes your heart stops and you literally let your wishes smash.

i hope to shade the world

Thu, 29 Jan 2004 05:05:59 GMT

pairing: jade/davey
fandom: afi
challenge: burn out

In the night you watch the stars glitter the sky in a million pieces of broken glass and count everyone in good fortune. Next to you he sings, whispering about them all falling, an obsession that you can't quite understand.

You are still mesmerized by the ones in his eyes.

Later, his mouth against your neck, a hot mix of tears and kisses, he breathes, would you rather burn out or fade away? Eyes closed, silent and you wrap your hand in his hair, pulling closer, as close to your body as you can.

You still think it's about stars.

forever wandering together

Mon, 22 Dec 2003 08:22:59 GMT

pairing: Jade/Davey
fandom: AFI
challenge: night smeared

After the shows his makeup is barely there and you can actually see his face for what it is. This never lasts long.

Anymore, he won't go on stage without it. In the photo album under your pillow you can see the transformation take place one still after another, increasing over the years.

Sometimes in the heat of the moment you can't stand it anymore and you kiss him, pulling the colour off his perfect lips, scattering it around his mouth. For his part he sighs, moving towards the mirror, cosmetic bag in hand, leaving you alone in the dark.

so very much awake

Tue, 16 Dec 2003 13:26:43 GMT

Pairing: hints of Sirius/Remus, Snape/Remus
Fandom: HP
Challenge: snowman -- thanks to riddlemesphinx my partner in drabble ♥
Note: This hasn't really been read over. so sue me. cha.

Statuette

When Remus found the first one he cried. Not sobbed, but tears gently flowed down his cheeks before he had the chance to wipe them away. They fell, one after another onto the small glass figurine of an angel that was cupped in his hands. It almost looked like she was crying with him.

Remus didn't know if this was a sign or some sick joke to find her on his pillow.

He wrapped the little angel in a handkerchief and placed her in his trunk. After all, Sirius would hate to have anything happen to that angel. The one that his mom had given him before he left for Hogwarts the first time. Back when he was still…

He wiped his eyes and turned to walk away but paused and stared at his trunk. He slowly opened the lid and stared at the little glass angel and then at the handkerchief, still wrapped around a glass figurine.

There were two of them.

Remus found a nautical star a few days later. It was placed perfectly on his desk, sitting proudly like it should have been there all along. Remus could see his reflection in each side of etched glass. And when he picked it up he had to be careful that he wouldn't cut his finger.

After that nothing happened.

Remus spent days in his room perched on his bed holding the angel and star in his hands. Memories of Sirius shined off the angel, even if it wasn't his but only a copy and Remus often fought the urge to break it into a million pieces. But he would shift his attention to the star instead.

Remus counted down the days to Christmas on the star, only because he had nothing else to do. After Sirius, Christmas just didn't seem like something to celebrate. But the dual angels perched on his desk, table, shelf told him differently. Remus had grown restless and brought them both out. The star, it still sat proudly on his desk where he could see it.

On Christmas Eve, Remus found the snowman, perfectly crystal clear save for his black as coal hat. Remus stared at the snowman, breath caught in his throat as he searched the figurine for answers.

Remus didn't notice the human figurine, drenched in shadows standing in the door way for the longest time. And when he did it was only because the light caught off something in his hands.

Snape stepped forward and placed the crystal heart on the table in front of Remus. And Remus let his tears spill over the heart, too, because that all he could do.

i fall asleep tonight...

Mon, 15 Dec 2003 03:34:08 GMT

Untitled - Domlij - for 15minuteficlets

the word: cookie.

For breakfast Elijah has oatmeal.

Nothing in Elijah's mind is worse than starting a day out with oatmeal. Especially when what he really wants for breakfast is Frosted Flakes but is instead greeted with an empty box. Elijah grumbles but makes his oatmeal anyway and hides behind the funnies so that no one will talk to him until the good mood he woke up with is returned to him.

For lunch Elijah has macaroni and cheese and it wouldn't be so bad if Sean Astin wasn't on the phone with his wife and if macaroni and cheese didn't remind him of his sister so much.

After that Elijah spends half an hour in the bathroom smoking out the small crack in the window and pretending that its the smoke thats making his eyes water. It isn't until Peter sends Ian in to see what the hold is was that Elijah plasters on a smile and joins the rest of the cast.

Sometime around three, apples are introduced into Elijah's stomach.

This isn't so much by choice as it has somehow been decided by Tolkien or otherwise that Hobbits love apples. Dominic seemes to get the most enjoyment out of the apples and Elijah remembers that he wasn't at lunch but forgets to ask why. Instead he munches on his apple without really thinking and cringes when he bites the inside of his lip.

Dinner is rushed because they needed Elijah and Sean to film a night scene. Elijah is almost positive that they are supposed to shoot it tomorrow but he attempts to eat his sandwich anyway, even if he does think he's too cold for his jaw to work properly. He drops the rest of it in the bin as Dominic and Orlando drive off the set together.

When Sean drops Elijah off he wishes more than anything in the world he had a cup of hot chocolate. The kind his mom used to make when he was younger. Instead, as he unlocks his door, he can only hope that he left the heat on.

At one in the morning Elijah is floored when the smell of freshly baked cookies hits his nose. He finds Dominic in the kitchen wearing an apron and licking the batter off a wooden spoon Elijah doesn't even know he owned. Or maybe he doesn't, Elijah is very confused.

Dominic smiles and Elijah does too because what else is there to do.

"You had a bad day." It isn't a question but Elijah nods anyway.

"I thought these might make it better."

Elijah takes a cookie from the plate and bites into it and giggles. Dominic smiles and Elijah can't remember why he was having a bad day.

"You're staying." It isn't a question but Dominic nods anyway and takes another cookie.

excuse me while I fall apart

Sat, 06 Dec 2003 22:48:02 GMT

Title: Excuse Me While I Fall Apart
Author: Three glitter_adorned
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: If it sounds fake, it usually is.
Pairing: Billy Boyd/Orlando Bloom (LoTR RPS)
Summary: "Orlando visibly flinches every time he sees himself."
Notes: Too long to be a drabble, too short to be a full story.
This is for riddlemesphinx ♥

Orlando visibly flinches every time he sees himself. On a poster, on television, on the cover of a magazine, it doesn’t matter. Whenever his face appears you can see him get uncomfortable. Anymore, it’s impossible to go anywhere without Orlando seeing himself frozen in a smile. Orlando used to wonder how celebrities dealt with the attention. Now he knows first hand. Over the past few years he’s picked up a lot from his friends.

Elijah smokes and Orlando knows that if he didn’t Elijah wouldn’t have fingers for all the nail biting. Dominic spends half of his time trying to get Elijah to quit smoking and the other half throwing himself into some sort of phase, yoga or origami or writing. Dominic and Elijah have the worst of it because everyone questions them and Orlando watches as they both lose weight from the stress. Still, neither of them seem to mind seeing their faces everywhere. Even if it is Elijah who gets most of the publicity anyway.

Sean tries telling Orlando to focus inward and deal with his own life, to essentially ignore the mass media. Orlando figures it only works for Sean because he grew up in the spotlight. He thinks that might be an unfair advantage, then reconsiders and is thankful for those early years when he was unknown.

Ian and Viggo have tips much like Sean’s. Of course, they all laugh at Orlando’s discomfort because only he would complain about the attention. Orlando doesn’t understand why it is him and not anyone else. He never wanted to be a teen idol – he used to laugh at then in school. And now, well, he never intended for his films to be huge – for himself to be huge.

Billy gives the best advice, if you could call it that. When Orlando comes home worn down and exhausted, nearly shaking because he had to walk down the street passing all the “Pirates of the Caribbean” posters, Billy is the only one who can comfort him. Billy holds open the sheets and curls himself around Orlando so that his breathing will return to normal. Orlando admires Billy for the way he lets his fame roll off him like water and thinks he would trade places in a heartbeat because he was able to ease his way into the spotlight and not be shoved like Orlando.

Billy grins every time he sees Orlando. On a poster, on television, on the cover of a magazine, it doesn’t matter. Whenever Orlando’s face appears you can see his eyes light up. Anymore, it’s impossible to go anywhere without Billy seeing Orlando frozen in a smile. Still, Billy realizes that it is much better to have the real Orlando in his arms, safe from the world. And Orlando, well, he agrees.