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Title: If the world picked daises
Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton
Warnings: AU, character death
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 300
Point of view: third
Harry Potter, Luna+/Neville, they're the only ones to survive

Hogwarts falls in winter and Luna sees it before it happens - perhaps the nargles warned her, or the crumple-horned snorkacks, or even Mum, from the Spirit World, sending word to her daughter. It doesn't matter.

Luna has scant minutes, which isn't enough to get anything done but she sends her patronus to the Headmaster, another to each of the Heads of House, and then calls her favorite of the elves.

She's only a fifth-year but she survived the Department of Mysteries, so she puts all of her conviction into the words as she tells Lolly, “Begin evacuating the students. They’re almost here.”

Lolly blinks up at her with frightened eyes, but the elves have trusted Luna since her first evening in Hogwarts. It’s one of the things Luna has never questioned.

It won’t be enough, not for what’s coming, but at least some will live.


As the walls shake and ancient stone crumbles, ancient runes shattering, Luna tries to find her friends. She protects younger-years where she can, feeling relief as elves keep popping in to grab them, until Death Eaters begin targeting elves.

There are many things Luna knows. Her parents did not discriminate between Light, Grey, and Dark, and taught her from tomes of all three. She is no match for a fully-grown wizard intent on killing – but she does not fight head-on, she strikes from the shadows, and she keeps moving through Hogwarts, seeking Ginny and Harry, seeking Neville and Hermione and Ron.

What she finds – oh, what she finds.


Hermione fell first, defending a group of Slytherin first-years, then Ron in a mad rush of rage, and then Harry to Voldemort. She never does find Ginny, or learn what happened to her.

Neville is barely alive, and Luna curls around him, and Lolly finally brings them out, sobbing.

Title: in the shadows
Fandom: The Black Jewels series
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: spoilers for Queen of the Darkness
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 145
Point of view: third
Prompt: any book. any. afraid of the darkness

the living myth

dreams made flesh

Queen of the Darkness

"The difference," Witch says, staring at the grandmother of her body, "is that when the dream appeared, he recognized it." The father of her soul - the true father of Witch, the Blood's long-sought for dream, who would cleanse for a new beginning.

Many know her and welcome her; many fear and hate her.

It hurts, nonetheless, when the flesh's grandmother calls her monstrous in her true skin, in the living myth, the dream made flesh of all the dreamers. Calls her monstrous and turns away, eyes unseeing, heart closed.

Everything has a price, Witch thinks, taking the flesh's grandmother into the abyss.

Alexandra stares into the darkness and fears it too much to ever understand - but there are others who rejoice, who dance in the darkness, and Witch clings to those.

Title: where the garden grows
Original, gen, PG. talk of violence/death
Prompt: Author's choice, author's choice, wasteland

They call this land a paradise for they know not what came before. It is beautiful now, yes, for none remember the signs of a curse.

I know, of course I know - I have been here so long I cannot recall the feel of dirt beneath my hooves, the wind in my mane - feet, I mean. Hair.

Ach, don't listen to me. I'm but a fool, of course. A fool who speaks of portents long gone, of times that surely never existed.

It is lovely, though, is it not? Such a fair piece of land, this realm. Bought and paid for in blood and fire - how else do you think the flowers grow so beautifully, the trees so tall? It is an ancient magic, that, the rite of conquest.

Of course, I'm but a fool. Old and tired.

There was a terrible battle here, once. Long ago. The very ground shook, and a blight came so terrible –

Forgive me, I'm just tired. My mind wanders, sometimes. Thank you, thank you, water would be lovely. Just a parched throat, you know.

Thank you, that's just what I needed. Quite clear, our water. This paradise - none like it the world over.

There was a horseman, once. His horse was unmatched, a fearsome thing. Crops died where he stepped, battles turned when he rode in.

This paradise - this realm of plenty and wonder.

We've been here before, you know. Ages pass, the sun rises and sets, dynasties and dynasties... but I am simply an old fool who enjoys watching horses run. Don't listen to me.

Of course, of course, thank you for your generosity, young sir. I am quite hungry. You should -

Well, it doesn't really matter, does it? Surely, it never happened.

Title: Freedom
Original, gen, PG
Prompt: Author’s choice, any/any, summer rain storm

It comes on fast, the way they always do, sky turning dark, wind blowing in. Fits your mood pretty damn well, work being fucked lately, with all the backbiting and the lies.

It's stupid, going out for a walk while a storm brews but that new smell is rising, and it's sorta like freedom, like back when you were a kid and it was always so calm once the storm was through.

What you need now, maybe. A break. So even though there's still three hours till lunch, even though half the cases haven't even been glanced through, even though there's thunder on the air and lightning in the distance -
You leave everything behind and go for a walk.

It's getting darker, the wind stronger, and usually, you'd be afraid, if only a little.

But you're not afraid. You tilt your head back, eyes closed, to let the rain run down your face, to feel the wind, and you open your mouth to laugh and laugh and laugh.

Title: All roads (lead to Rome)
Prompt: any. any. All roads lead to Rome. (aka. No matter how you twist canon, some things are meant to happen)
Written: July 1, 2015

Note: I composed this by singing into my phone while driving through a thunderstorm. *shrugs*

The first time she tries, it all ends in fire;
the second, in tears.
She keeps moving the pieces 'round
searching, searching
but however she tries, it always ends.

The fifteenth time is the worst:
there is an ocean of blood lapping at the door.
She doesn't know what she did wrong then
and tries her best not to do it again.
But still she goes back and back and back,
sometimes further, sometimes not.
There are so many twists and so many turns -
how to choose, how to choose,
every choice is wrong.

She's never believed in meant to be
but maybe it is so: no matter what she does,
apparently there is a way things have to go.
And it aches and it burns and it hurts and how she yearns
but there's nothing for it.
She closes her eyes and says the words
and around her everything turns.

Back and back and back again;
surely one more try can't hurt.
But that's what she's said a hundred times
and maybe she just can't take much more.
There has to be a right answer but she hasn't found it yet.
And she's seen a thousand ways it can go wrong
and perhaps she’ll never find the right.
And maybe, maybe she doesn't have any left to try.


( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Aug. 14th, 2015 12:33 pm (UTC)
Poor Luna... that was so dark and sad, yet also beautiful, in a way. :*) <3
Aug. 14th, 2015 05:44 pm (UTC)

Thank you!
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )


king of the jungle
questioning in order to create

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