whisperwords does fandom

Icons: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Skins

2009-05-15T03:57:42Z

Teaser:

Buffy, the Vampire Slayer
01. 02. 03. 04. 05.
06. 07. 08. 09. 10.

Skins
01. 02. 03. 04. 05.
06. 07. 08. 09. 10.
11. 12. 13. 14. 15.
16. 17. 08. 19. 20.

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Someday we'll find it -- the rainbow connection -- the lovers, the dreamers, and me!

2008-11-12T12:16:35Z

All images used in this post are from stock.xchng.

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18 Calvin & Hobbes Snowmen Icons

2008-11-04T00:30:37Z

01. 02. 03. 04. 05.
06. 07. 08. 09. 10.
11. 12. 13. 14. 15.
16. 17. 18. 19. 20.

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30 icons: Band of Brothers - Currahee

2008-09-28T07:35:28Z

We pull upon the risers, we fall upon the grass.
We never land upon our feet, we always hit our ass!
Highty tighty, Christ almighty! Who the hell are we?
Zim-zam god-damn! We're Airborne Infantry!

01. 02. 03. 04. 05.
06. 07. 08. 09. 10.
11. 12. 13. 14. 15.
16. 17. 18. 19. 20.
21. 22. 23. 24. 25.
26. 27. 28. 29. 30.

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Icons: Fashion, Atonement, Prince Caspian, Ben Barnes, Doctor Who, Sex and the City

2008-09-14T04:04:03Z

Teaser:

Fashion

01. 02. 03. 04. 05.
06. 07. 08. 09. 10.
11. 12. 13. 14. 15.
16. 17. 18. 19. 20.
21. 22. 23. 24. 25.

Atonement

26. 27. 28. 29. 30.
31. 32.

Prince Caspian/Ben Barnes

33. 34. 35. 36. 37.
38. 39.

Doctor Who

40. 41. 42. 43. 44.
45. 46. 47. 48. 49.
50. 51. 52. 53. 54.
55. 56. 57. 58. 59.
60. 61. 62. 63. 64.
65. 66. 67. 68. 69.

Sex and the City

70. 71. 72. 73. 74.

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10 Icons: Ben Barnes and Christian Bale

2008-08-09T01:20:26Z

edenerade and I decided that these two pictures had to be joined together, so I did it. And now there are icons.

01. 02. 03. 04. 05.
06. 07. 08. 09. 10.

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Icons: Eternal Sunshine, Love Actually, Fight Club, Threadless Tees, Flowers, and Rainbows

2008-07-16T06:08:11Z

Big ol' icon post. I haven't done one of these in a while!

Teaser:

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

1. 2. 3. 4.
5. 6. 7. 8.
9. 10. 11. 12.
13. 14.

Fight Club

15. 16. 17. 18.

Love, Actually

19. 20. 21. 22.
23. 24. 25.

Threadless Tees

26. 27. 28. 29.
30. 31. 32. 33.
34. 35. 36. 37.
38. 39. 40. 41.
42. 43. 44. 45.
46. 47. 48.

Flowers

49. 50. 51. 52.
53. 54. 55. 56.
57. 58. 59. 60.
61. 62. 63. 64.
65. 66. 67. 68.
69. 70. 71. 72.

Rainbows
The first 7 of these are Fire Rainbows (These are so freaking cool!). The last is some random arty thing I found on the stock exchange.

73. 74. 75. 76.
77. 78. 79. 80.

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admin post

2008-06-12T14:00:16Z

I've done some cleaning up on this account -- this journal now has no one friended, as it's a fandom journal. There are no locked posts so I don't see the need. Please keep watching, the unfriendings are not anything personal!

In other news, I've been dabbling in livejournal layouts lately, so I may start posting the good ones here. :)

My Heart Will Go On - Twilight - R

2008-05-22T22:57:21Z

Name: My Heart Will Go On
Word Count: 724
Fandom/Pairing: Twilight | Edward/Bella
Rating: R
Genre: Romance, Fluff, Crack
Warnings: BLATANT MOCKING. No butthurting in my comments plz.
Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer, though in this instance I tried my damndest to emulate her writing style. These characters do not belong to me, I'm just marionetting them around a little.
Short Summary: Edward and Bella's first time. This is how I imagine the scene in Breaking Dawn will go.
Notes: This is not how I normally write. I am mocking Stephenie Meyer. Repeat: I am mocking Stephenie Meyer. Title comes from the similarly named Celine Dion song.

Edward leaned his cold, hard body over mine, his sweet, succulent breath in my face, intoxicating my senses with its sugary sweet scent.

"Bella, my sweet light, my darling sensual epicenter of delight," he said, running his cold, hard fingers down my stomach, titillating me, giving me goosebumps. "I want you."

"I want you too," I replied, and he gave me his gorgeously gorgeous crooked smile, moving over me in a flash, his cold, hard body over mine. He touched me lightly with his cold, hard peen and I gasped.

"Are you all right? I haven't hurt you, have I?" he asked me, his cold, hard brow furrowing.

"No, it's just cold and hard," I replied. His cold, hard hands moved between my awkward, clumsy, unworthy thighs and he parted them, his cold, hard fingers touching me at my inferior core. A rush of pleasure swept through me and I felt I was going to die.

"I love you, Bella, my delightful flower, my brilliant constellation," he said, and he leaned his cold, hard lips to mine and kissed me gently, at the same time sliding his cold, hard member into my feminine center. I whimpered pathetically as his cold, hard flesh pushed into me, ruining my womanhood, destroying my innocence just as I wished he would destroy my beating heart and make me a vampire this very night.

He looked into my eyes, the amber-toned pools of his topaz eyes gazing into my boring human face, and he dipped his head slightly, the angles of his body pure perfection over my gangly and awkward limbs.

I began to cry.

"Bella, my sweet nectar, my lovely truffle, my delectable morsel of desire," he said, furrowing his cold, hard brow once more. "Have I hurt you?"

"No, Edward," I said, my face flushing with embarrassment, because I was once again feeling inadequate and miniscule. "I'm just..."

"Bella, my glimmering rose petal, please don't cry," he said, and he brought his perfect face to mine, pressing his cold, hard lips to my oversized mouth, his sweetly glorious breath wafting across my face. He began to move within me, his cold, hard rod moving faster and faster. My heart was racing, my blood pumping faster and faster through me, and I could see he was trying desperately to control himself. Despite my better judgement I turned my head to the side, exposing my neck to him, and he bit his cold, hard lip, closing his eyes. I felt tension rising deep in my belly as his cold, hard manhood continued to slide in and out of me.

"Edward," I moaned, and he groaned in kind, his throbbing manhood cold and hard within me.

"Bella, my heart's desire, I can't--" he started, and then he dipped his head down, shuddering against me, and I felt my first orgasm come through me, blinding me momentarily with the intensity of it. I felt Edward's cold lips against my neck and my heart skipped a beat, anticipating a glorious release from this life, but he did not bite me; he merely kissed my throat, breathing out against my skin as I shuddered around his cold, hard shaft.

"I love you, Edward," I whispered, and though I had just had my first sexual experience and it was perfect and exceeded what I had imagined it would be, I had to mask my disappointment in the fact that Edward had yet to pierce my pale and mole-mottled skin with his perfect, glimmering teeth.

"I love you too, Bella. You are my champagne supernova," he said, running his cold, hard fingers along my stomach, chuckling softly. "You're sweating."

"I didn't know you liked Oasis," I said, and he smirked at me.

"You caught me," he said, and he ran his fingers along my skin again, blazing a cool path against my overheated flesh. I felt exceedingly insecure, wrapping my arms around myself. He sighed softly, a beautiful exhalation of his delightfully sweet breath, and pulled me close. He kissed the top of my head.

"Why haven't you turned me yet, Edward?" I finally asked him, and he sighed again, this time the ever-familiar exasperated tone in it, and he hooked his cold finger beneath my chin and forced me to look into his shimmering topaz eyes.

"In good time, my love."

Moments in Time, PG-13, PotC

2007-10-19T00:55:47Z

Title: Moments in Time
Author: whisperwords
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Pairing: James/Elizabeth
Rating: PG-13
Summary: AU - Elizabeth Swann never falls from the battlements. These are ten drabbles from that alternate timeline.
Disclaimer: PotC and the franchise belong to Disney, I'm just toying with it.
Word Count: 1,000 exactly.

He is standing with his back to her and she cannot breathe. She fans herself and gasps for air – “I cannot breathe,” she wheezes – and he turns sharply and catches her just as her vision starts to go.

When she comes to there is a commotion about her, and none save her father look more worried than he. She assures them all that she is okay, and they usher her home with haste.

The next day he comes calling – “How are you feeling, Elizabeth?” – and after a turn about the garden, he asks for her hand in marriage. She accepts.

*****

He has to leave merely a week after they marry and she sends him off with a chaste kiss to the cheek and a weak smile. Something about the day has put her in a foul mood, and his departure does not help matters. There is a smattering of gray clouds on the horizon.

“I will return within the month,” he tells her, and she nods. She closes the door and turns, leaning against it and looking at her new home; it seems dreary to her and now she is alone within it.

She wonders if it will get easier.

*****

The letter arrives in a stained envelope and the wax that seals it is half-gone. The scrawl on the envelope is unfamiliar to Elizabeth, and she tears it open with curiosity. She does not like the news.

She finds herself crying unexpectedly half a day later as she glances out the windows in the front of the house. Miserably dark storm clouds and a sharp wind have settled over the bay and she cannot console herself.

That night she dreams she's with him on the battlements -- “I cannot breathe” -- but he does not turn in time to catch her.

*****

It's been three months and she's gone from inconsolable sadness right on through to seething rage and beyond to calm denial. She spends her days in sight of the docks, never turning her back on the sea.

The people of Port Royal have taken to calling her the Commodore's widow behind her back. They daren't say it to her face and they all keep her at a distance.

She does not speak often, and when she does her voice is almost toneless and without melody. None is more amazed than she at how severely she has reacted to his absence.

*****

A second letter comes a year later, even more tattered than the first. It is illegible; the ink used is almost entirely washed away. She can make out “Elizabe” and what she thinks may say “capsized,” but perhaps says “caution.” She tucks it into a drawer beside the first letter and opens the curtains.

The sky is blue and there aren't any clouds; Elizabeth's maid stands in the doorway for at least a minute, her hand shaking so violently that tea splashes out of the cup in her hand.

“Good morning, Estrella,” Elizabeth says. The teacup drops when she smiles.

*****

Weeks have passed since the second letter and her hopes, uplifted by the sea-stained page, have nearly been dashed – she dreams of pirates, blood, foaming ocean waves, and angry tentacled creatures she used to read about as a child.

She wakes with a start, her hand clutching at the fabric of her nightgown. She settles into reality after a moment, her eyes adjusting to the darkness.

“Elizabeth,” she hears beside her, and she feels the mattress shift. She turns her head sharply, whipping him in the face with her hair. He sputters.

“James?” she asks, and starts to cry.

*****

She makes him tea in the morning and as he drinks it she stares at him from across the table. After a moment he looks up at her, quirks an eyebrow.

“Elizabeth?”

“You didn't have that scar when you left here,” she says, her voice cracking over a lump in her throat. She swallows.

“I got it in the storm,” he replies softly, putting his teacup down. He comes around the table and kneels beside her chair. She traces the scar's jagged path along his jawline and bites her lip. She brushes his chin; he takes her hand in his.

*****

She worries he will hurt her, and he promises her in whispers that he will not. She bites her lip; he moves his hand gently along her shoulder and down her arm. He is above her and she can feel him, hard against her thigh. He brings his lips to hers and makes a low sound in his throat as she puts an arm around his neck.

Her worries are quickly erased as they begin, and she warms and moans as they move faster. He grabs at her hair as he comes, then sighs and whispers “I love you” afterwards.

*****

She knows it is not how things are properly done, but as the pain tears through her once again, she screams and begs and pleads with the midwife to please let James come in and hold her hand.

“You may see him after,” the woman replies, wiping at Elizabeth's forehead with a damp cloth. Elizabeth claws at her; demands with the gumption of a spoiled child to see her husband. Another contraction comes at her, hot and swift like fire, and the midwife tells her to push. Elizabeth curses as the boy is born, and the midwife lets James in.

*****

She is watching her family playing outdoors through a window. James hoists their son up onto his shoulders and brings him inside for supper; he drops the boy and tells him to wash his hands as he gives Elizabeth a kiss.

“I love you,” he says with a lopsided grin. Some of his hair has come loose from his queue.

“Forgive me the roast,” she jokes, and they eat.

That night she lies in his arms and whispers “I love you” when she thinks he's sleeping. He kisses the top of her head and replies, “I love you, too.”

25 icons: Band of Brothers - Carentan

2007-10-10T02:52:47Z

"The night was filled with dark and cold,
When Sgt. Talbert, the story's told,
Pulled on his poncho and headed out
To check the lines dressed like a Kraut."

01. 02. 03. 04. 05.
06. 07. 08. 09. 10.
11. 12. 13. 14. 15.
16. 17. 18. 19. 20.
21. 22. 23. 24. 25.

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Storyteller, PG-13, PotC

2007-08-28T04:19:25Z

Title: Storyteller
Author: whisperwords
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Pairing: James/Elizabeth
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers for AWE.
Summary: A father tells his children a bedtime story. Post-AWE.
Disclaimer: PotC and the franchise belong to Disney. I'm simply fleshing it out a bit. :)
Word Count: 3,986

Edmund Worthington was taller than his father, his shoulders were broad, and he wore his Naval coat with authority. He was an Admiral, like his father before him and his father’s father. He knew all the stories of the sea and he told them with great enthusiasm; it was for this reason that he often found himself seated before a winter fire with his two young sons, begging him for the excitement and adventure that only a seafarer’s stories could bring them.

“What do you boys want to hear about tonight?” he asked, smiling down at his brown-eyed younger son. The boy had a playful gleam in his eye, but he still deferred to his older brother for the final decision.

“Pirates!” the older one shouted, a bit too excitedly. He leaned forward on his knees and Edmund laughed.

“You want to hear about pirates, do you?” he said, pulling his younger son up onto his knee. The boy grinned at him, lopsided and missing a tooth.

“Yes, yes,” he said, clapping his hands. “Pirates!”

“Well then,” Edmund leaned forward and looked up, searching his mind for a suitable tale. “Ah, yes, that’s the one. I’m going to tell you boys about the Pirate King.”

The two boys gasped, their eyes widening with anticipation. The older one climbed up from the floor onto the seat beside his father.

“Many years ago,” he started, “There was a great battle among pirates...”

*****

Captain Will Turner of the Dutchman, through years of doing naught but right and honourable acts, became famed as the most venerable man to ever helm the ship of the dead, and the most sorrowful. For after ten years of doing all he was entrusted with, he found no one waiting for him on the other side, and eternity grasped at his soul like a starving man at sustinence.

He had married the Pirate King, and she had left him to wander the earth without a heart for her sins.

*****

“But wait, father,” the older boy stopped him. “The captain of the Dutchman married the Pirate King?”

“Yes, James,” Edmund stopped to clarify. “You see, the Pirate King was a woman.”

“Wouldn’t that make her the Pirate Queen?” the younger son -- Charles -- asked. “Women can’t be kings!”

”Well boys, this was no ordinary woman,” Edmund started. “She was voted the Pirate King by the Brethren Court.”

*****

Elizabeth Swann stood flabbergasted in front of a table full of pirates. Jack Sparrow stared at her with a smug grin on his face. A bit proud of himself, is he? she thought, smirking to herself. At least someone is, then.

To be sure, Elizabeth had already had her share of surprises -- first she was made captain of the Empress, and mere moments later she was detained by Davy Jones, only to be freed hours later by the Admiral she’d never expected to cross paths with again. One more surprise among them shouldn’t have jarred her as much as it did. However, she’d just been told she was in charge of the whole of piracy.

The fact that piracy seemed at its end made the entire event seem just a bit overwrought to her mind, anyway.

*****

“I still don’t think she should have called herself the king,” Charles piped up.

“Quiet, Charlie,” James snapped. “I want to hear more about Captain Turner. Why wasn’t she waiting for him?”

“We haven’t gotten there, yet...”

*****

Elizabeth paced in the captain’s quarters, her eyes crazed and her hair a wild tangle. Things were not working out as she’d planned them; they hadn’t been working out the way she’d planned for a long time. She’d never expected a legion of the undead to come after her for a trinket of gold, after all, and she certainly hadn’t expected for a giant squid to destroy the ship she was on -- and its captain! -- and she had absolutely not anticipated that captain’s involvement with the Brethren Court and the subsequent chase she’d had to participate in to retrieve him from Davy Jones’ Locker. Come to think of it, she’d not planned on meeting Davy Jones, either, but what was another unexpected twist in her life? She was prepared for nothing and everything now, because her most carefully laid-out childhood plans were all but a whisper in her mind now.

If only she could reset everything, she would begin anew. She would start at the very beginning and beg her father to stay in England.

No, that was too far. She would simply not take the coin from the boy on the crossing. That would set it all right, that would make everything work out the way she’d originally planned. She’d let the boy keep his trinket, and the pirates would come for him, and they would leave her well alone to live out her days an Admiral’s wife.

Yes, that was precisely it. Elizabeth gnawed at her thumbnail as she paced, wondering if she’d ever stop seeing those sad, green eyes when she closed her own brown ones. She sighed loudly and turned on her heel, biting a bit too hard on a hangnail she’d created and drawing a bit of blood. The tiny wound stung as she sucked at it, the coppery taste of her blood reminding her vaguely of Isla de Muerta.

How would she do it, though? She sat down on the floor, pulling her knees to her chin and furrowing her brow. If she and her crew could travel through seas full of ghosts and oceans made of sand, it could not be too much to ask to turn the clock backward, to set everything straight.

A knock at the door caused Elizabeth to snap out of her musings for just a moment.

“What is it?” she snapped, and the door cracked open just a bit. Ragetti -- or was it Pintel? -- stuck his head in.

“We was wonderin’,” he started, and then looked back out the door. Someone nudged him, so he shuffled to stand just inside the doorway. The other of the ragtag team -- Elizabeth could never remember which was which -- peeked in from around the frame.

“’Ello, Mrs. Turner,” he said mildly. “We’s wond’rin’ when we might make port.”

“Next port town we pass,” she said, waving one hand. “I trust the two of you can find one?”

“Aye, cap’n,” the first muttered. He stood awkwardly there for a moment, but Elizabeth had already lost interest. She never held interest long anymore. They shuffled back out of her quarters and not long after, the ship pitched slightly starboard, and the sudden movement pushed her to her feet and out the door.

“A change in course, men!”

*****

“Is she crazy, father?”

“Yes, yes she is,” Edmund ruffled his older boy’s dark, curly hair. “The Pirate King went mad.”

“Why?”

“Well, son, she lost her love.”

“Captain Turner?”

“No, boys. The Pirate King loved a Naval man.”

“Like you!”

“Yes, boys, just like me.”

*****

Admiral Norrington had been an upright, honest man through the day he died. He’d only ever lied the one time, and it was to save the life of the woman he loved, so it hadn’t counted against his eternal soul in the least. Strangely enough, though his life had been nothing but honour and valour, he hadn’t been content to leave the seas as his life left his body, and he found himself trapped there in the deep blue sea, no body to bind him, but no freedom still from the Earth.

He found, after a time, that he could travel wherever he pleased, so long as he remained over water. He found it mildly ironic that he was confined by the same boundaries as Davy Jones.

There was no time for James Norrington, no sense of hot or cold, no clue at all for him about how long he’d been where he was and what was happening around him. Five minutes and five years had no significance to him. Five centuries could pass and he’d never know. All he understood was that he’d died on the deck of the Dutchman and that for some entirely inexplicable reason, he’d not passed on.

Then one day, he found himself haunting the shores of Isla de Muerta.

*****

“Where is Isla de Muerta?” Charles asked. James glared at him for interrupting the story, but Edmund simply smiled.

“No one knows, except those who have already been there,” he replied. The boy furrowed his brow and frowned.

“Then how did anyone find it in the first place?”

“That’s a mystery I don’t know the answer to, son.”

“Father?” Charles began to ask another question. This time James shushed him.

“Come now, Jamie,” Edmund placed a hand on the older boy’s shoulder. “No harm ever came from asking a question.”

“Is James named after the Admiral?” Charles continued. Edmund laughed. James’s expression suddenly changed and he tugged on Edmund’s sleeve.

“Keep telling the story, no more questions! What’s on Isla de Muerta?”

“On Isla de Muerta, the pirate Barbossa and his crew left a chest of cursed Aztec gold...”

*****

“Eight-hundred and eighty-two pieces exactly,” Elizabeth Swann muttered to herself, running her slender fingers along the gold at the top of the pile. “All accounted for, all here within this chest.”

She’d left her crew waiting in the shallows and insisted she come into the caves alone. Most of her crew was wary of entering these dark, damp tunnels as it was, most of them having once felt the burden of the curse themselves.

Her fingers found the chain attached to one of the topmost coins and pulled it up. The very same coin that had started her life as a pirate dangled from her hand, gleaming in the dim light of the cave. She smiled a small half-smile, chuckling to herself. This would be the one. Will Turner’s blood was there, dried in the skull pattern on the coin, brown and flaky. It would go in time.

The winds shifted and sent a chill down Elizabeth’s spine as she looped the chain over her head. She turned quickly on her heel, the goosebumps on the back of her neck alerting her to an intruder in the caves, but she saw no one.

“Show yourself,” she said, her hand dropping to the cutlass at her hip. She took one step forward and clenched her jaw. “I am the Pirate King, you will show yourself.”

The wind shifted again, blowing harder this time and from inside the caves, pulling her hair around her shoulders and whipping at her face. She frowned and turned to face it. It was warmer this time, and smelled faintly of wig powder. It vexed her.

“No matter,” she said, shaking her shoulders and standing up straight. “I’ve got what I came for.” She headed back for her ship.

*****

“Why didn’t she take more of the treasure?”

“Boys, boys! Keep interrupting me and we’ll never reach the end of the story.”

“Sorry, father.”

“Yeah, sorry, father.”

*****

“She didn’t wait for me,” Captain Turner said, looking out toward the horizon from the bow of the Dutchman. “My own wife.”

“A lot can happen in ten years,” Barbossa said in reply. He finished off a green apple and threw the core into the sea. The juices left on his hands made the grime under his nails stickier and he wiped the muck on his coat.

“Have you seen her?” Turner asked, looking hopefully at Barbossa. The man shook his head.

“I have heard tales,” he started, “Tales of the crazed Pirate King.”

“Crazed?” Turner looked worried. “She’s gone mad?”

“Aye, if the stories are true,” Barbossa nodded solemnly. “Some say she engages in battles too large for her crew on a whim; others say she wanders the bottom of the sea searching for her lost love. Which would be you, by all accounts.”

“The bottom of the sea?”

“Ah, yes. The stories all tell of a curse,” Barbossa muttered. “Perhaps the very same curse the crew of the Pearl suffered so many years ago.”

Captain Turner became very quiet then, staring out to the sea. There was hardly a cloud in the sky, and the moon was large and full. The light reflected playfully from the water.

“Again, I haven’t seen her, I cannot account for the truth in these tales,” Barbossa offered. Turner’s expression did not change.

*****

“But it’s not Turner!” James exclaimed, very vexed. Edmund smiled.

“You know that and I know that,” he said, “But Barbossa, now, why would he know that? Don’t you worry, Jamie.”

*****

She saw him in a dream. Elizabeth woke with a start and a scream, her hands clutching at her clothes. She wrenched her eyes shut and then open again, and still the image of him would not leave her. She thought for a moment he was right there with her, standing in front of her and smiling knowingly down at her as she gasped for air. But he was not.

When her vision finally adjusted itself and she could differentiate reality from her dreams once again, she grew angry.

“Why won’t you leave me be?” she asked, dragging a shaking hand through her hair, catching her fingers in the knots that the sea winds tied there. “Why can’t I forget you, James? Why can’t I bring you back?”

She grew very aggravated then, the irritation building in her as she left the captain’s quarters. Her crew watched her as she climbed up the rigging into the sails, higher and higher until she was at the crow’s nest. She stood there for hours, staring out into the distance as if searching for something.

As the sun began to set, she looked down to her crew.

“You there!” she shouted down to the crewman at the helm. “Take us hard to starboard!”

“Aye, Cap’n!” The ship veered to the right. Elizabeth smiled to herself, a broad, triumphant smile, and she began her journey back down to the deck.

*****

“Where’s she going?”

“Patience, Charles.”

*****

“Ahoy!” Barbossa heard the call before he saw the ship, though it was alongside the Pearl in almost no time at all.

“My King,” he greeted Elizabeth with a smile. “I’ve heard quite a few tales about you,” he added, taking Elizabeth’s hand as she crossed to his ship.

“I have heard quite a few myself,” she muttered, grinning at Barbossa. There was a shine to her eyes, a gleam that betrayed her calm.

“You’re as wild as they say, then,” he muttered, and he knew, though her smile did not falter. “Might I ask you a question?”

“You might,” Elizabeth answered, “Though I might not answer it.”

“You are aware it’s been thirteen years now since William Turner took the Dutchman, then?”

“I...” her smile disappeared now. “I hadn’t realized.”

“Quite.”

Elizabeth glared at him then, and the cheerful facade she’d cultivated shattered all around her. “I need to find him.”

“Turner?”

“Yes, Turner, who else could do what I need him to do,” she said quickly. Barbossa raised an eyebrow, curious.

“And what might that be?”

“An old friend,” she started, and then cackled to herself, an unhinged string of musical notes. “No, strike that. Not just a friend. Not just anyone. I need James Norrington.”

*****

“But Father, if Norrington is a ghost...”

“Patience, James, patience is a virtue,” Edmund chuckled. “I fear you two are getting overexcited. Perhaps we should finish this story some other time?”

“No! No, father, please,” Charles pleaded, his eyes wide.

“No more questions, I promise,” James added.

“You promise?” Edmund smiled, his eyes twinkling. The two boys nodded emphatically. “All right, then.”

*****

Barbossa called for William Turner and it did not take long for the message to get through. Elizabeth paced the deck of the Pearl until the Dutchman burst from the sea, and then she stood stock-still until Turner stood squarely in front of her.

“You didn’t wait for me,” he said, and his words stung her.

“I didn’t,” she replied. “I have no excuse,” she added. Will searched her face for meaning and found none.

“Why should I help you find Norrington?” he asked, and she set her jaw. “It’s been thirteen years now, I can’t guarantee it will work.”

“It will work,” she said, and she brought her hand up to her throat, thumbing the chain around her neck. It suddenly felt very heavy. She added, almost a whisper: “It has to.”

The wind picked up, around them, without a direction and warm. The tattered sails of the Pearl flapped violently in the sudden gale. Will took a step toward Elizabeth, closing the gap between them.

“Thirteen years,” he repeated, softly. She looked back up at him with that same wild, almost manic look in her eye.

“I loved you, then,” she said, and it almost seemed enough for him.

“You’ll have to come with me,” he said, motioning toward the Dutchman. Elizabeth nodded and took his hand.

*****

“She loved him, too?”

“What happened to ‘no more questions,’ James?”

“Sorry.”

*****

Elizabeth had forgotten how tasking it was to make the trip from the Locker and back, but once they were on the other side she sank quickly back into herself, waiting impatiently for the chance to see James once more.

Night fell and after what seemed to Elizabeth like eternity, Will came up beside her.

“It’s time,” he said, and she looked up at him. He didn’t look her in the eye.

“When will we know?” she asked, as Will handed her the end of a rope. “What’s this for?” He pointed up at one of the sails. A menial task, to keep her occupied while he worked.

“You’ll know soon enough,” he said. The night air was as still as the grave, and the clouds hung in the sky unmoving.

“Something’s not right,” she muttered, though she set to her task. She kept an eye on Will as she worked, though after a while she grew tired of spying and worked the rigging to make the time pass.

“He’s not there,” Will uttered, hours later. “It’s as if he never existed at all.”

“That’s impossible,” Elizabeth countered, and Will nodded. “Then what does it mean? Perhaps he didn’t die after all,” she started, moving away from Will as she thought out loud. “No, but I saw him fall, I saw him die with my own eyes, perhaps... is it possible Davy Jones destroyed his soul? No, that isn’t... is it?” she turned sharply on her heel to face Will.

“I don’t have the power to destroy a soul,” he said succinctly. She wheeled away from him again.

“Well then he must still be there, somewhere,” she started again, bringing her left hand to her face. She started to gnaw on an already ragged fingernail. “Somewhere around there, perhaps... can you do this on the other side?”

“I’ve never tried.”

“Would you?”

*****

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to bed?” Edmund asked as Charles stifled a yawn. James stretched beside him, arching his back as he raised both hands into the air. Both boys shook their heads.

*****

The Dutchman broke the sea surface at dawn within sight of the Pearl. Elizabeth’s latest stolen ship was anchored not far from that. Will dropped anchor between the two.

“Try now,” Elizabeth said as soon as the ship was still. “Will, please.” Her hair was enormous around her shoulders, and the warm Caribbean breeze pushed it gently around her face.

“Give me a moment,” he said softly, and she frowned, sitting down on the deck with her knees pulled up to her chest. “Just a moment,” he repeated, and she rested her chin on her knees, impatient. She watched intently this time as he worked, kneeling on the deck. His hands moving rapidly across a strange compass-like object he’d pulled from a pouch he kept at his hip, and his lips moved, murmuring something she couldn’t quite make out.

“Well?” she asked, when Will paused momentarily and leaned back on his heels. He shushed her quickly and then knelt over the object once more. The wind picked up around them.

“Ah, there he is,” he muttered, and looked up toward the sails. Elizabeth’s eyes followed his gaze and she watched as the wind fluttered aimlessly through the rigging. Will turned back down to his trinket and continued murmuring, but Elizabeth’s gaze never fell from the wind. It picked up speed, faster and faster across the deck of the Dutchman, until Elizabeth had to close her eyes to shield them from her own hair, which was whipping violently around her head. The ship rocked violently with the force of it; it was like a hurricane on the deck. The sails tore and Elizabeth ducked her face down into her knees, shielding herself with her arms.

The wind stopped.

“Elizabeth?”

She lifted her head tentatively, pulling her hair back from her face. She blinked a few times to be sure of what she saw. Vibrant green eyes stared at her, a puzzled look pointed straight at her, from a familiar face not six inches from her own.

*****

“It worked!” Charles cheered, an enormous grin on his face. James smiled through a yawn.

“That it did,” Edmund said. “Now shall I take you two to bed?”

“But she’s still cursed!” James protested, and Edmund raised his eyebrows.

“Of course, right, how silly of me.”

*****

“James?” she whispered, though she could not move. He gave her a soft smile.

“The very same,” he replied, and he placed a warm hand on her face. She could not tear her eyes away from his; they were the same as they ever were, the eyes that had driven her mad in her dreams, here in front of her now. She felt her own filling with tears.

“James,” she repeated, and she still could not quite move her arms, though she desperately wanted to touch him, to make sure he was solid and not another vivid dream. She remained tightly curled, her knees drawn to her chest, and he knelt there in front of her, one hand on the deck to steady himself and the other gently brushing her hair from her face. His fingers trailed down the side of her neck to the chain that held her curse to her.

“I think we should return this to the chest it came from,” he said, tugging gently at it. Elizabeth sobbed out a laugh and finally found her arms mobile again, lunging forward and wrapping them tightly around his shoulders.

“I’d lost you,” she said, a few times, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “I couldn’t find you, and I looked, and we went so far...”

“I’m here now,” he said plainly, and he stood, helping her up with him. Elizabeth found her legs again. She pulled away from James, though it took a great deal of effort to let go of him entirely, and moved toward Will.

“Thank you, Will,” she said, her face flushed with emotion. “Thank you so much. I can’t say in words how much it means to me.”

“I love you,” he said, meaning ‘you’re welcome.’ Elizabeth nodded, and grasped his hand for a moment. He smiled gently and then looked to Norrington. “Take care of her.”

“I will,” he promised. He took Elizabeth by the hand and together they left the Dutchman for Elizabeth’s ship.

*****

“Is that the end?” James asked, yawning widely. Edmund nodded. He stood, holding the already-sleeping Charles to his shoulder, and then leaned down to hoist James up as well.

“Now it’s off to bed for you two,” he whispered, taking them up the stairs to their bedroom.

“Father?”

“Yes, James?”

“Am I named for the Admiral?” he asked, a soft whisper in his father’s ear.

“Yes, you are,” Edmund whispered back. “You’re named for your great-grandfather, Admiral James Norrington.”

Weapon, PG-13, BtVS

2007-08-09T19:16:05Z

Title: Weapon
Author: whisperwords
Fandom: Buffy, the Vampire Slayer
Characters: Faith
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Faith loses herself. "Bad Girls" interlude.
Words: 516

Faith had known for a little under two years how it feels to push a stake through a vampire. The force of her strength met resistance for only a moment, just an instant, and the creature of the night was already beginning to disintegrate by the time the side of her hand meets its chest.

The feel of it was always, always the same. For Faith, it was calmingly familiar. Regardless of the difficulty of the fight, the size and shape of her opponent, or the noisy banter of grunts and one-liners they exchange, the final punctuation of it all was inevitably the same.

Until that night.

"Faith, NO!" Buffy’s cry came too late, and Faith didn’t stop in time. But she knew. It felt wrong. Living flesh and a beating heart resisted, pushed against her stake, and she knew even as the power behind the blow forced the wood into his chest that he was alive. Living, breathing, and thoroughly alive. And as her hand dropped and she took a horrified step back, she saw the life in him, pushing wildly through his eyes as if anticipating its escape. Panicked sounds came from the man’s throat as his blood spilled from the mistake she’d made.

"I didn’t… I didn’t know, I didn’t know."

"We need to call 911. Now!" Buffy said, and then she said more words, more panicked, fleeting words that Faith didn’t hear. Couldn’t hear. She simply watched as the man shook, his eyes ever widening with the fear of Death. And when Death came for him, she continued to stare and she watched – she saw the life leave him, saw him become something new and different. Saw his arm fall to his side from the corner of her eye, limp and useless next to his slumped body.

She stared for a moment longer at him, as if training her eyes on his, open and lifeless, would somehow will the life to return to them. And then something snapped.

She hauled Buffy to her feet and they took off, Faith in the lead, frantically leading them away from her mistake, away from the Wrong Thing she had done so irreversibly that she couldn’t even consider the thought of waking up tomorrow and still being Faith.

Hours later she returned to the scene and hauled the man to the river, though not before closing his eyes.

She spent the morning washing her hands. She scrubbed them over and over, soaping and soaping again until she had none left. And after Buffy came and left, she grew tired of the fear, grew tired of the tremor in her hands, and she held them in front of her until the shaking stopped. She clenched her jaw and steeled herself. She would be a new woman, a rogue. She had always been good at reinventing herself. She grabbed her bags and left Faith in the apartment with her unpaid bills.

It would be years before the weight of a simple wooden stake would comfort her again, though the knives she found to replace them would never fail her.

Oh, What Providence, PG, HP

2007-08-09T19:12:36Z

Title: Oh, What Providence
Author: whisperwords
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Harry, Draco
Rating: PG
Words: 332
Summary: But oh, what providence -- what divine intelligence -- that you should survive as well as me...
Notes: Fits in with Deathly Hallows to a point -- deviates from canon in two places near the end: regarding the Malfoy-Potter character relationship, and deviates from canon from Voldemort's death onward.

Despite the pulsing throb just below his ribs and the distinct feeling that he'd left a chunk of his own flesh at the site of his last near-miss, Harry Potter forced himself to get up out of the puddle of his own blood and drag himself back into the fray. His glasses were crooked, the lenses cracked and smeared with sweat and gore, nearly useless to him. He still had his wand, though, and he thanked whoever was left to thank that he did, because while he may be The Boy Who Lived, he was scrappy and fairly useless without it.

“Sectumsempra!” he recognized the voice and the spell and managed, somehow, not to be hit with the curse again – after all, he was still bleeding pretty heavily from the first one. “Still standing, Potter?”

“As well as you are,” he spat back, raising his wand.

“Look around, Potter, do you see any of your friends?” Malfoy sneered at him. Though Death Eaters and Order members were still around, most of them looked as though they were about to die or apparate to save themselves. The battle had worn them all down to the quick; it seemed Malfoy and Potter were the only ones left with the idea of effort still in their heads.

“You made a mistake, Malfoy.”

“Don't think I didn't hear about that 'love' speech you gave,” he replied, each word seemingly torn from his throat. He was weakening with every word, and Harry was likewise withering away with the effort it took to hear them. “You may have killed Voldemort, Potter, but the fight isn't over yet.”

“You always did talk too much,” Harry muttered, flicking his wand ever-so-slightly. “Expelliarmus.” Malfoy's wand flew from his grip, and in the crucial seconds it took Harry to find it and snap it in half, all Draco could do was stare at his hand in disbelief, as if it had dared to defy him on its own.

Somewhere, a Clock is Ticking, PG, Heroes

2007-08-05T05:08:07Z

Title: Somewhere, a Clock is Ticking
Author: whisperwords
Fandom: Heroes
Characters: Sylar, Claire
Rating: PG
Summary: Tick, tick, tick...
Disclaimer: Heroes is the brainchild of Tim Kring, I'm just ...borrowing.
Word Count: 326

Tick, tick... tick. Tick.

Somewhere in this building, a clock was dying. Sylar could hear it; he could hear every clock in every building within a city block, but one of them wasn't ticking steadily. One of them had been damaged.

Tick, ticktick tick, tick.

Claire had locked herself in a ninth-story office. In her haste to get away from Sylar, she'd slammed into the side of the desk and knocked the table clock from it. The face had cracked.

Tick... tick tick. Ticktitick.

It was upstairs. He calmly pushed an elevator button, frowned as the 'ding' of it revealed the car was quite a few floors away. He waited.

Tick. Tick-tick.

She tried to slow her breathing, to calm down, become quieter. She heard the elevator open. A few wobbly tick-ticks later, someone tried the door handle.

Ti-tick... tick.

A tiny yelp as he shook at the door revealed his target was hiding inside. He grinned.

Ticktick. Titick tick tick.

She saw the door frame giving way. The wood started to crack; the dark paint revealed light wood beneath as it crackled.

Tick-tick.

He heard a crash and a scream. The crash was his, the scream hers; he was quick but she was quicker. Another crash and another scream. Hers and his – she fell to the pavement nine stories down, and he screamed in rage, drowning out the broken clock.

Dreams, PG-13, PotC

2007-06-21T06:55:28Z

Title: Dreams
Author: whisperwords
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Pairing: Will/Elizabeth, James/Elizabeth
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers for AWE.
Summary: After the events of AWE, Elizabeth finds sleep a precious commodity.
Disclaimer: PotC and the franchise belong to Disney. I'm simply fleshing it out a bit. :)
Word Count: 2,775

Elizabeth couldn't sleep. Nearly every night she tossed and turned, often sweating in the heat, and nearly every night she woke at least once with a start, gasping for air and willing her heart to calm down. Sometimes she woke up panting, gulping for air as she settled herself in the dark, staring up into the darkness as her mind raced, trying to pinpoint why her sleep was so unsettled.

Will Turner had left her there to wait a decade only a fortnight before the dreams began.

*****

Elizabeth wore chains. Shackled to her wrists and ankles, they trailed behind her, slowing her already arduous trek along the seafloor. A cursed piece of pirate gold hung on a chain around her throat.

Sometimes she turned to bones, when she dragged her chains through the shallows and the moonlight shone straight through.

She never left the water, not fully. She didn't feel she had the right to. Not after all she'd done, the lives she'd bartered in her dangerous game. So she'd gone to Isla de Muerta and found the chest once again, the chest that started everything, the coin with Will's blood still muddy and brown dried along the edge. She'd taken it for herself, cursed herself to the depths to walk among the dead and dying, to travel from shipwreck to shipwreck and remind herself of all she'd done.

The Pirate King answered to no one but herself, so she'd sentenced herself to an eternity.

*****

Sometimes when she woke, she'd find her throat sore and her face wet. It was good, she thought, that there was no one there with her to hear the haunted sobs she held inside until sleep took her and set them free. When she woke up needing water she would wander the house with her arms wrapped tightly around her, opening all the windows and staring blankly toward the sea. The wind carried the salt air into her nose and mouth, and the familiarity of it would break her heart all over again.

*****

She heard herself screaming.

"James! No! No!"

The deck of the Dutchman stopped him and he fell no further, slumping there along the rail. As she screamed the sea got into her mouth, tried to choke her cries down, keep her quiet. She wished for a moment that it would stop threatening and drown her entirely. She swam toward Sao Feng's ship -- her ship -- as his heart stopped for her and as she clawed her way up into the vessel she felt hot tears streaming down her face.

"Captain--"

"Shipwreck Cove," she snapped, growling through her teeth. "Get us there. I'll be in my quarters." She slammed the door behind her and slumped against it, curling her knees up to her chest, her empty heart beating rough and steady behind her ribs.

*****

On the nights she didn't wake -- which were rare, though not entirely unheard of -- she dreamed of happier things. Old memories and good friends, breads and cheeses and meats on banquet tables, rum-drunk pirates singing songs around bonfires. Sparkling green eyes winking at her clandestinely when no one else was looking, smiles meant entirely and only for her, broad grins and cheerful smirks, concealed laughter, all hers for the keeping.

She would wake in the morning to birds outside -- cheerful sunlit mornings on a warm, Caribbean beach -- and she would cry.

*****

"Teach me to fight, Will."

"You already know how to fight."

"Teach me your way. With a sword."

"Your father--"

"Isn't here. Now are you going to teach me or am I going to have to find someone else to do it?" Hands on her hips, she tilted her head just a bit, and he smiled at her.

"Choose a sword, Miss Swann."

*****

The first time she woke with her hand between her legs she hadn't been dreaming of her husband, and though she tried as hard as she could, she couldn't fall back asleep.

*****

His hands were bigger than she thought, and rougher. He ran them gently up her leg, knee to thigh, and grasped at her flesh desperately.

"Elizabeth," he breathed, bringing his lips to hers, "My Elizabeth."

"James," she moaned as he bit gently at her bottom lip. She brought her hands up to his head, burying them in his hair, pulling at it, making him growl gently, a deep rumble in his throat. He pushed at her then, his heartbeat racing, and slid into her. She gasped and arched her back, pressing into him, grasping at his shoulders.

They moved together as they never had in life and the pressure built steadily, higher and higher, and he moaned her name, pressed his lips to her neck--

*****

After three years passed with barely a good night's sleep Elizabeth found herself restless, unwilling to remain in the house any longer, the house she'd barely left since she entered it. She sent a letter out to sea and two weeks later she found herself at the docks.

"Captain," she extended her greetings as she boarded the Pearl. Barbossa smiled at her.

"My King," he smiled. She laughed; she'd missed this ship, this crew. But she soon found out that though she'd left her home, she hadn't left her dreams.

*****

"I died for you," he said, simply. A statement of fact.

"I didn't want you to die," she replied, another truth. His wig was askew and his hat was missing. There was a hole in the back of his dirtied coat.

"I didn't want to die, either," he said, turning to look at her. His skin was green and rotting; here and there, small pieces of him were missing. His green eyes were dulled and milky; the expression in them a deep and seething anger. He reached out to her with hands that were half-decayed. "I should have let them keep you, Miss Swann."

*****

It didn't take long before Barbossa confronted her. She'd been terrifying the crew for three nights straight before he made the move to ask her, but it had to be done.

"The men are startin' to think I've brought a harpy on board," he said to her, and she winced. He offered her an apple, green and shiny in his dirty pirate's hand. She took it and held it, though she did not bring it to her mouth.

"I've been having dreams," she started, and Barbossa raised an eyebrow. "Nightmares," she corrected herself, and he nodded.

"I already figured that out," he said to her. She sighed and moved her thumb across the skin of the apple.

*****

She made sure that he was anchored to the mast as she kissed him. She knew what she was doing. She broke from him and he smirked at her.

"Pirate."

She saw him struggling against the ties as their small boat pulled away; the water was already moving unnaturally. The Kraken was nearby. The water quaked; waves came toward them as it broke the surface. Enormous tentacles wrapped around the Pearl and sank it; it seemed instantaneous. It was there and then it was gone. Jack was gone. She couldn't change it now.

*****

The water broke all around the Dutchman and drained from her decks as it came alongside the Pearl. Barbossa hailed the captain of the other ship with his hat, motioning with a sharp tilt of his head to Elizabeth beside him. Will Turner smiled brightly at his wife.

"Seems the missus didn't fancy ten years on land," Barbossa said, once Will had crossed to the Pearl.

"I didn't think highly of the idea either," he said, and he brought his arms around Elizabeth. He was warm, and Elizabeth found his embrace overwhelming.

"It's good to see you, Will," she said, and he kissed her.

"I missed you too, love," he took her hand in his. "Would you like to see what I've done with her? She's a fine vessel, now that she's in my care. I've a fine ship, a fine crew--"

"Of course," she replied, and they crossed to the Dutchman together. Bootstrap Bill greeted her on the other side. She noticed his blade as he moved along and fixed her eyes on it, wary of him though she knew he would not harm her.

"The captain's quarters are quite nice, now that I've gotten rid of Davy Jones' pipe organ," Will started, leading her astern. They were almost there when Elizabeth stopped in her tracks.

"What--"

"Elizabeth?" Will turned and looked at her, a confused look on his face. She was staring up into the rigging, her mouth hanging wide open. "Elizabeth, what is--"

"James?" she dropped Will's hand, taking a few steps backward, trying to find a better look. Will looked down at the deck.

"Barbossa didn't tell you?" he asked, but Elizabeth didn't hear him.

"James?" she said, louder. The man in the rigging looked down at her, and then began moving down the rigging. Elizabeth simply continued to stare.

"Elizabeth," he greeted her as he stepped onto the deck. "You look well."

"How..."

"My father told me what had happened," Will interjected. Elizabeth continued to stare at James, though she nodded to show she was listening. "He told me that Norrington had died saving you, that he'd stabbed him for it. He saved your life, so I saved his."

"I..." Elizabeth continued to stare; James fidgeted underneath her gaze. He tried to stare off into the distance, to watch the sunlight play along the waves, to keep his eye on the horizon. But then she leapt on him, wrapped her arms around him so tightly that he almost couldn't breathe.

He moved his arms unsurely; he didn't know what to do with them. He put them around her and squeezed her, but when he loosened his grip she did not loosen hers.

"Mrs. Turner," he said, and she continued to hold him. He glanced at Will, who was standing with his hands on his hips and staring at the bow of the Pearl, his jaw clenched. "Elizabeth," he tried, and she began to cry.

"You were dead," she sobbed, "You died, I saw you fall, I saw it."

"I'm not dead now, Elizabeth, and I need to breathe," he said, smiling at her. She stepped back.

"I saw you," she said, almost a whisper. She brought her hand slowly up to her face, covering her mouth. "I saw you dead. I saw it."

Her knees gave out and her eyes rolled back; as she passed out both Will and James knelt to her aid, and each of them gave the other a territorial glance.

*****

"So this is where your heart truly lies, then?"

"It..." she started. She glanced at James, and then at Will. She looked all around them. There were men everywhere, a sea of red coats and weapons. Will wore an enormous hat with an even more enormous feather. Jack was already swaggering as if he'd asked for a last meal of rum.

James' eyes were the most beautiful eyes she'd ever seen.

"No," she said. Will turned to her suddenly.

"Elizabeth--"

"I don't know," she said. She looked at him and then looked at James again. Will looked exceedingly confused; his brown eyes moving quickly between her and James. James stared at her, almost patiently. She couldn't look at Will again.

*****

"What happened?"

"You fainted," Will said, holding her hand. James knelt on her other side, though he kept his hands to himself. He no longer wore a wig, and his hair was not as neatly kept as it could be. A few stray strands hung around his face. He looked younger than she remembered. She was staring at him again.

"I--" she started, but trailed off. Her mind was racing.

"Stop staring at him," Will grumbled at her. She whirled her head around to face him.

"Last I saw him, Will, he was dying at your father's hand," she snapped. Will blinked at her and then stood up straight. "I'm sorry my disbelief is upsetting you."

"I brought him back because he saved your life, Elizabeth. I didn't bring him back so he could have what's mine."

"I've been on your ship for ten minutes, Will!"

"You've spent half of them unconscious and the other half staring at him!"

"Augh!" Elizabeth threw her arms up. James remained on the sidelines and merely watched. "This is not about him, Will!"

"Then what is it about?"

"I've been married to you for three years now and this is the first I've even heard from you!" she shouted at him. "You couldn't send a letter? You couldn't relay a single message to your wife? I spent three years in a small house on a small island with nothing to do but eat and sleep and write to a husband who didn't write back. I just stood around staring out the bloody windows until I finally thought to myself, 'Elizabeth, why don't you just go?'"

"Elizabeth--"

"I'm not finished! So I got in contact with the Pearl and not two weeks later they've come to get me. My husband can't scratch out two sentences on a scrap of seaweed and mail it to his wife but Captain Barbossa, so evil that hell itself spat him back out, comes running when I call? And all the while I can't even sleep an entire night without waking in a fit over nightmares about some bloody pirate curse that I'd never have known if it weren't for you and your bloody father!"

Will stood stock-still. His jaw was tightly clenched, his hands were pulled in tight fists at his sides. He stared intently at James Norrington, who stood leaning against the door of the captain's quarters and looking everywhere but at the sparring couple.

"Get off my ship," he growled. Norrington suddenly stared straight back at him.

"Will," Elizabeth started, and he stopped her.

"Both of you. Get off my ship." He motioned briskly to Captain Barbossa that the two were returning to the Pearl. James waved a hand at Elizabeth, urging her to go ahead. She shook her head sharply and made him go first.

"Will, this isn't how--"

"You're right," he muttered, jaw still clenched, though now it was clear it was not in anger. "I can't expect you to wait for me, Elizabeth."

"Will."

"Go with him. He's always loved you, and I can see that you care for him. He can be there for you when you wake up in the middle of the night. I can't." Tears welled up in his eyes.

"I do love you," she said.

"And I love you." He always had, and always would. She kissed him one more time and turned to leave the ship. "Don't wait for me," he said, just as she was about to leave the Dutchman. She nodded, and crossed to the Pearl.

*****

Elizabeth stood on a cliff, looking out toward the sunset. A boy of about ten stood there with her; she looked down at him and he smiled at her, pointing toward the horizon. The Dutchman appeared there, a green flash signaling the return of a soul from the other side.

*****

Ten years after Will Turner became the captain of the Flying Dutchman, Elizabeth woke from her dreams with a start, waking her husband with her.

"Elizabeth?" he sat up beside her and placed a hand on her back. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," she said, bringing a hand to her chest and clutching at her nightgown. She was startled; she hadn't woken like that in years.

"Nightmare?" he asked her, a concerned look on his face. She shook her head.

"No," she leaned into him and he put an arm around her. "It was so long ago."

"What was?"

"I dreamt of the day you proposed," she said, and he chuckled.

"That wasn't so long ago."

"The first time," she added, and he smiled. She curled into him, snuggling into the crook of his arm. "When I fell off the battlements."

"Ah," he kissed her forehead. "Right."

"It took us a while to get it right, didn't it, James?"

"It did."

"I love you," she said. It was a statement, a fact. She kissed his shoulder, and then tilted her head up. He kissed her deeply.

"I love you, too." The truth, plain and simple. He wrapped his arms around her and they settled back in under the sheets. She kissed his nose and he kissed her mouth again. Then they closed their eyes. Neither woke again until morning.

Regrets, PG-13, PotC

2007-06-13T03:37:36Z

Title: Regrets
Author: whisperwords
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Pairing: James/Elizabeth
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers for AWE
Summary: She did not understand him; he always knew what he was doing.
Disclaimer: PotC and the franchise belongs to Disney; I'm just playing in their paddling pool.
Word Count: 1,595

There were a great many things that James Norrington knew. He knew how to sail ships, he knew how to maneuver in a swordfight, and he knew how to handle a pistol. He knew the proper etiquette for even the tiniest detail at a social gathering of high esteem. He knew how to file his paperwork so that it would go through the proper channels, and quickly. He knew the fastest way to each and every port in the Caribbean and he knew how to read the changes in the wind. He knew he hated pirates.

James Norrington knew which side he had chosen once and for all when he made his way down to the brig of the Dutchman. He knew where to find the key that would open the lock barring them in, and he knew that Elizabeth Swann would glare daggers at him even as she used him for escape.

He knew that they'd inevitably be caught, and he knew that he would have to fight so that she could go. He knew without an inkling of a doubt that this was his last night on this cold and wretched ship and he knew, he knew, that he was going to give his life to let Elizabeth go back to her dear William. Even as the dark fingers of fate wrapped around his heart he knew that he was in complete control of his own actions; that was one thing he had always known. He had no regrets, because everything he'd ever done was the result of careful consideration.

No, James Norrington had no regrets. No regrets... save one.

****

Elizabeth Swann had no idea what the Admiral was doing. He'd betrayed them; taken the chest and the heart and run back to Beckett to deliver piracy as a whole to the depths of hell and now he held the bars open as she slipped between them with her pirate crew. She didn't understand why he'd spent all that time with them on the Pearl and still chosen, at the end of the day, to leave them all -- to leave her -- and effectively sign the papers that made their lives so much harder than they already were. Her father was dead, the lives of all pirates were endangered, and the friendship she thought she'd had was gone. She did not understand how they had come to this. She did not understand at all.

She didn't know what he was doing and she couldn't comprehend the look in his green eyes when he urged her desperately to hurry up and leave. She couldn't understand why, when she'd first seen him on the Dutchman, she'd been so eager to run to him but could not bring herself to wrap her arms around him when he embraced her. She didn't know why she'd been so cruel to him on deck, and she didn't know why he was here now, helping her after all she'd done, all she'd said to him.

She often wondered how he could stand to look at her after Jack's failed hanging.

She allowed her crew to leave the brig ahead of her. She was still trying, still searching his face for any clue at all that would help her understand. Why now? Why, at the eleventh hour, was he changing his mind yet again? Why couldn't he have made up his mind the first time?

Elizabeth Swann could not understand what was so plainly set in front of her, so she asked him.

"What are you doing?"

"Choosing a side."

She still did not quite understand.

****

Elizabeth Swann allowed her crew to leave the ship before her. She stood aside and stared at him, studying his face. He could feel her eyes burning through him even as he watched her crew scurry across the ropes to to the Empress.

"Do not go to shipwreck cove," he started. He steeled himself and kept his tone flat. "Beckett knows you'll be meeting the brethren, I fear there may be a traitor among them."

"It's too late to earn my forgiveness," she said to him, her jaw clenched. He knew in his heart that she would give it in time; he also knew he did not have the luxury of waiting to hear it.

"I had nothing to do with your father's death." He could not bear the look on her face. "But that doesn't absolve me of my other sins."

"Come with us."

He hadn't anticipated that. His heart leapt, his pulse racing even faster than it already was. And then she said his name.

"James, come with me."

He wanted to. He knew what he would do, then; he would follow her onto the ropes, he would be the last on the line and he would shoot through it as he clambered across. He knew then, that he would follow her to the ends of the earth regardless of where her affections lay. He saw in her face something he thought he would never see. It was a look he'd seen on her face before; he'd even pointed it out to her on the Pearl. He'd just never seen it directed at him.

"WHO GOES THERE?"

Both of their heads snapped toward the sound; there was no time. James turned to her.

"Go. I will follow." He said it, though he knew he would not. He'd never lied before; now he knew why. Elizabeth's face fell.

"You're lying," she said. Her eyes searched his face, her brow furrowed. She didn't understand. He looked frantically at the Dutchman and then back at her. He swallowed hard.

"Our destinies have been entwined, Elizabeth, but never joined."

He took care of his one regret then, bringing his lips to hers with all the passion in the world. Her lips were soft, as he'd always dreamed they would be, and they tasted faintly like the salt wind off the sea. In that small moment he knew that he had done what he should have done years ago and instantly his regrets leapt from one to hundreds. But when he felt her kissing him back they fell to none at all. He wanted so badly for this moment to last forever but he knew she had mere moments before it was too late for either of them.

"Go, now." His voice cracked and too much of him was revealed; she looked at him then with sadness in her eyes. For the first time, she understood. The same sadness broke through his chest like a cold wave across the bow of a ship.

She hoisted herself up and began to move along the ropes. Bootstrap Bill emerged from the Dutchman too soon and James drew his weapon.

"Back to your station, sailor."

"No one leaves the ship."

"Stand down. That's an order!" James raised his voice.

"That's an order..." the crusty old man searched what was left of his memory. "Part of the crew, part of the ship. Part of the crew, part of the ship." And louder. "Part of the crew, part of the ship."

"Steady, man," James said, taking a single step toward the ropes.

"Part of the crew, part of the ship." And then he raised the alarm. "ALL HANDS! PRISONER ESCAPE!"

It was too soon.

"Belay that!" James shouted, panic touching the edges of his voice. His heart raced in his chest, begging his ribs for more space.

She screamed his name, then, and James knew what he had to do but could not bear it. She started to come back, scrambling frantically to change directions, dangling high above the water. James could hear it in her voice; she knew, now, knew so clearly what he was doing. The sea-salt of her lips lingered there on his mouth. He had to do it, he knew he did: he pressed his lips together and turned his gun to the ropes.

He heard her scream and the splash of the water as she struck the surface, and he felt the blade run clean through him. His breath stopped suddenly, the shock coursing through him like fire and ice as he fell to the deck. And behind him, beneath him -- distant -- he heard her scream his name, heard her sob her unwilling goodbyes, her frantic denial. He did not hear the Dutchman's crew, did not listen as they announced his own death. He heard only her cries and he knew, he knew without a shadow of a doubt, that she had indeed loved him. He knew, then, the answer to the question he knew he'd next be asked.

"James Norrington, do you fear death?"

****

She saw him fall, saw the shape of him tumble to the deck of the Dutchman, and she felt her heart fall with him. She had not known, had not understood, until her lips met his and she'd wanted, needed for him to come with her, to show her again what it truly means to be loved unconditionally. To show her again and again the difference between saying you would die for someone and showing that you would.

He fell and her heart screamed his name. She knew then that she loved him, and she knew now that all of her regrets would only ever be James.

Massive Icon Post!

2007-04-16T20:51:30Z

It's been over a year since I've posted icons, but I haven't stopped making them. There's just not a very coherent "set" -- I've been making them as I think of ideas, or shots that I want as an icon.

Anyway, there are 73 icons in this post.

Stargate Atlantis
1. 2. 3. 4.
5. 6. 7. 8.
9. 10.

Heroes
11. 12. 13. 14.

Dexter
15. 16.

Dead Like Me
17. 18.

Battlestar Galactica
19. 20. 21. 22.
23. 24.

Arrested Development
25. 26. 27.

Doctor Who
28. 29. 30. 31.
32. 33. 34. 35.

CSI: Miami
36. 37. 38. 39.

The Office
40. 41. 42. 43.
44. 45.

Veronica Mars
46. 47. 48. 49.
50. 51. 52. 53.
54. 55.

Random
56. 57. 58. 59.
60. 61. 62. 63.
64. 65. 66. 67.
68. 69. 70. 71.
72. 73.

Few things:
--Comment/credit, please, if only so other people know where to come if they like what they see.
--Please credit chartulae in your keywords (or keyword comments) if you use any of these.
--Do not alter textless icons -- they are not bases! Enjoy them the way I made them!
--Enjoy!

Note: I'm working on restructuring my tags -- I'm almost done, but the icon tags and the fanfiction ratings and pairings tags aren't quite finished yet.

Slowly, Slowly - HP - Drabble

2006-11-27T07:51:42Z

Wow, it's been forever. I've had some major writer's block. It's just a drabble, but it's a start.

Title: Slowly, Slowly
House: Slytherin
Word Count: 100 according to Word
Character: Harry Potter, Voldemort
Rating: R, death
Challenge: For Challenge #186 "Degree" at hp100

Harry looked down at the ground before him. His wand lay there, broken into pieces and utterly useless. He couldn’t move to pick it up even if he wanted to: he was strapped to a tree -- the biting winter wind fought with his skin.

Voldemort laughed; it was a grinding sound, unpleasant and unnatural. His red eyes seemed to glow.

“There is nothing to protect you now, boy,” he said, and promptly apparated. Harry was left alone in the cold with no coat to save him from the falling temperature. Degree by degree, he felt his own warmth leave him.

Icons: Air Force One (Text), Battlestar Galactica, and Firefly

2006-03-28T07:39:14Z

Wow, well, it's been a while since a post here, but hey. When there's stuff to post, there's stuff to post, right?

Teasers:

Air Force One

1. 2. 3. 4.
5. 6. 7. 8.
9. 10. 11. 12.

Battlestar Galactica

13. 14. 15. 16.
17. 18. 19. 20.

Firefly

21. 22. 23. 24.

Few things:
--Comment/credit, please, if only so other people know where to come if they like what they see.
--Please credit chartulae or whisperwords in your keywords (or keyword comments) if you use any of these.
--Do not alter textless icons -- they are not bases! Enjoy them the way I made them!
--Enjoy!

Countdown - HP - Cedric/Cho

2006-01-28T09:40:49Z

Title: Countdown
Author: Whisperwords
Summary: A countdown from five.
Notes: Five little vignettes.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: JKR is the ultimate awesomeness, for she gave us the characters with whom we play.
For: Saffron, for being an awesome cheerleader as I wrote :)

V.

Cedric Diggory lost his courage five times when it came to Cho. The first time he’d gone for it, they had been sitting together on a bench outside on a sunny day. The second time was at Hogsmeade, the third in the corridor between classes, and the fourth in the Great Hall. The fifth time, she was sticky with sweat, in her Quidditch gear, and carrying her broom back toward the castle when he’d come seemingly out of nowhere to walk beside her.

"Nipped out for a quick bit of practice, did you?" he asked her, a crooked smile lighting his face right up. She smiled up at him.

"Just working on my feints," she replied. "The Wronski’s a tough one."

"That it is," Cedric replied. They spoke idly together until they came to the castle. Cho stopped and Cedric stopped with her, reaching up and messing with the hair on the back of his head. His tie was askew, and the first button of his shirt was undone. He nibbled at his bottom lip.

"Well, I ought to go and get cleaned up," she said, shifting her weight to her left leg. Cedric nodded and lifted his books.

"Library," he said, and they stood there looking at each other for a moment. He stepped forward and leaned down just in time for Cho to decide the silence was too awkward.

"I like the table in the back, near the restricted section," she chattered, turning abruptly to look in the direction of the library. Cedric quickly jerked back into an upright position and reached up to muss his own hair again. Cho turned back to look at him and smiled. "It’s well-lit, though you wouldn’t think it with all the shelves around. It’s perfect around sunset because it faces away from the sun."

"Ever a Ravenclaw," Cedric said, putting his hand on her shoulder quickly before heading off. Cho watched as he walked away.

IV.

"You look amazing," Cedric said, holding his elbow out in a gentlemanly fashion. It was time for the champions to dance, and Cho’s smile could do naught but show her excitement. She’d spent the entire day trying not to smile so much; her cheeks were already a bit sore and the ball had only just started.

"You as well," she replied. They stepped out onto the dance floor and Cedric put his hand on her waist, clasping the other in his hand. His palms were warm and a little sweaty. "You’re nervous!"

"Am not," Cedric replied. "Champions don’t get nervous."

"No, of course they don’t," she replied, smiling brightly. Cedric smiled in return and tilted his head a bit.

"You really look amazing."

"You already told me that," Cho said. "Twice, in fact."

"Did I? Remind me," he said, twirling her in the air. Everyone else on the dance floor did the same thing, though neither he nor Cho noticed.

"Well," Cho started, "You said it the first time when you first saw me tonight," she smiled, and Cedric dipped his head down a bit. "You’re blushing!"

"Champions don’t blush," he said, biting his lip a bit. He straightened up and gave her a very serious face, though he cracked a smile after only a moment. "Go on."

"You said it the second time just as we were getting on the dance floor," she continued. "And just now makes three."

"Well, it’s true. You look amazing."

III.

Cho kept a small box inside of her trunk in which she saved keepsakes from their relationship. There was a torn corner of parchment with a drawing on it; he’d drawn her a little sketchy heart with snitch-wings and two stick-figure seekers chasing after it, presumably meaning the one with a black blob on its head to be her and the one with abnormally long limbs to be him. Also inside the box was a well-worn book; it was a paperback copy of Quidditch Through the Ages with goofy notations, sweet nothings, and helpful hints scratched in among the famous moves. The last thing inside the box was a pin she’d never intended to wear but kept anyway: Potter Stinks – Support Cedric Diggory, Real Hogwarts Champion.

II.

"I’m positively knackered," Cho yawned, leaning into Cedric’s shoulder. They sat together at a table as the Yule Ball was winding down. On the dance floor were Dumbledore and McGonagall and a few student couples. Most had already left, though some were clinging to the last moments of the night. Cedric squeezed her shoulder and held her close, looking down at her.

"I had a very good time tonight," he said, putting his chin on her head. Cho smiled.

"I did, too," she replied. She could hear Cedric’s breathing; his chest was warm and he smelled like she imagined all boys should smell, pleasant and clean, but with just a hint of musky sweat beneath it all.

"Cho?"

"Hm?" She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him. He brushed some of her hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear, all the while leaning closer to her. He paused and bit his lip, just for a moment, before kissing her gently, nervously on the lips. Cho’s heart skipped a beat and began to race as he pulled away, looked at her with a nervous smile, and then leaned in again for a second, more courageous kiss.

I.

Cho waited nervously, staring at the wall of the hedge maze with anxiety. Fleur and Krum had already come back, leaving Harry and Cedric inside. With the return of each Champion came more anxiety; Fleur had returned badly scratched, while Krum had returned in some kind of an angry haze. She had no idea what was going on inside; she just knew that the nervousness of the crowd was palpable. Her hands were sweating so badly that the "CD" she’d drawn on her palm was beginning to bleed into her lifelines.

There was a sudden flash and the crowd leapt to its feet, cheering the Champion before they even knew which of the two it was. Cho’s vision was blocked by a tall Gryffindor student and she stood on tiptoe to see who it was. She saw red and yellow; Harry Potter was the Champion. But the yellow wasn’t his.

It took one eternal second for her heart to fall to the ground.

32 Lilo & Stitch icons, 8 Pride & Prejudice icons

2005-12-19T00:04:22Z

Icon post! 32 from Disney's Lilo & Stitch, and 8 from Pride & Prejudice (the 2005 version with Keira Knightley).

Lilo & Stitch
1. 2. 3. 4.
5. 6. 7. 8.
9. 10. 11. 12.
13. 14. 15. 16.
17. 18. 19. 20.
21. 22. 23. 24.
25. 26. 27. 28.
29. 30. 31. 32.

Pride & Prejudice
33. 34. 35. 36.
37. 38. 39. 40.

Few things:
--Comment and let me know what you think!
--Please credit chartulae or whisperwords in your keywords (or keyword comments) if you use any of these.
--Do not alter textless icons -- they are not bases!
--Enjoy!

Icon Tutorial - PSCS - Graphics Heavy

2005-11-30T07:17:34Z

Aeryn Sun: A Basic Icon Tutorial
Including cropping, levels, sharpening, blend modes, and gradients.

First and foremost, let me just say straight off that while I give a good deal of "this is where you find this and that" type of direction in this tutorial, I do expect you to know the most basic of basic things, like how to actually apply a gradient and how to adjust the blend modes.

First things first. A quick introduction.

First of all, pretend there's a third red arrow pointing to "Image," because I totally forgot to add it in there. Now, you'll see I've pointed out some often-used tools. Everything with an arrow pointing to it is something I use when making every single icon ever. They are my favorite tools. And no, my move tool doesn't actually have a name, but if it comes to that I may just name it Cedric.

...what?

Anyway, it's a good idea to start with a good cap. In fact, the better the cap you start with, the less you have to do to fix the image, so really, my mantra is "crap cap means no icon." My favorite places to find screencaps and other things, like beautiful high-resolution images, are listed at the end of the tutorial.

For this tutorial, I actually used a cap I made myself while rewatching an episode of Farscape over the weekend. It's from "The Way We Weren't."

So. Cropping. Hit the cropping tool and you'll see the cropping toolbar pop up at the top of your display. It should look like this.

I set my cropping height and width to 100px by 100px (make sure you use px -- pt makes your image ENORMOUS and has actually crashed my photoshop before; be careful!). By presetting the dimensions of the cropping tool, it guarantees that you will maintain your aspect ratio (for more info, see dtissagirl's tutorial on aspect ratio here). What it also does, by constricting your crop selection to a square shape, is that it allows you to visualize many different crops before you finally select one, so you don't have to deal with the hassle of ctrl-z-ing yourself into early carpal tunnel.

Here are two different crops I tried out before finally settling:

I ended up choosing a crop that is very similar to the top choice, if not identical. Here is the cropped icon:

Now to clean up the image. It's pretty dark, and I would like to lighten it up without losing the contrast of the shadows. My favorite tool for this is the levels tool. You can find it here:

Another way to do the levels is by adding a new adjustment layer.

This way, you can adjust the layer by itself; this allows for more mistakes than the method I used when making this icon. I would recommend this one if you're just getting used to levels; that way if you screw it up once, you can delete the adjustment layer and make a new one, rather than scrapping your whole project.

Anyway, for this tutorial, I used the first levels method I described (Image > Adjustment > Levels). So, when you click on that, it gives you something that looks like this:

I don't ever use the slider on the far right -- it brightens everything, but it also washes out all the dark colors. The one I do the most with is the one in the middle. It brightens the lighter zones of your image while maintaining the contrast with the darker tones (for the most part), and my favorite part is that this tool, when used properly with a particularly dark screencap (shows like Buffy and Supernatural have a lot of these), can bring out details in faces and background that simply brightening wouldn't define.

First, I mess with the middle slider. Don't take it too far -- you don't want to wash out your character's skin tone, and you don't want to make your image too dark either. Be very careful and use your best judgement here. I moved the slider just enough to lighten up the image:

Much better. I, being a perfectionist, am also going to move the far left slider just a little (juuuust a little; this one makes all the dark shades darker and moving it too much gives you crazy insane shadowing and everything goes too dark) to make the shadows exactly how I want them. It's a teeny, tiny change, but then again, I did say I was a perfectionist:

Now that I've got the levels done how I want them, it's time to sharpen it just enough to define the edges a bit more. When I sharpen, I use the Unsharp Mask, because it gives me a slider, and oh how I love them. The Unsharp Mask is here:

And when you click, it gives you this:

Be very, very careful. For my icon, I sharpened the image 29%. Not much at all, really -- I just wanted the edges of her lips to be just a bit more defined.

Just to point out what happens when sharpening goes wrong, here's what it looks like at 100%:

I've circled the most awful spots with red -- see how the edges of the light behind her look like an outline, and how her hair seems to have an edge that can cut glass? That's a bad, bad thing. You also see on her neck where the line from her ear to the bottom of the icon is too sharply defined and starting to become jagged. Her eye also looks a little like it's carved from stone. Be very, very careful. You don't want this type of stuff to happen to your icon!

Anyway, moving on. I actually had a little bit of an "oops, idiot" moment here and closed my icon screen without saving it, so I had to redo all the steps. The cropping is just a little bit off, but everything else is exactly the same as far as levels and sharpening go (thank god for screencaps).

Anyway, now we're done with prepping the image, now to make it pretty.

I duplicated the layer twice. You can do this from the "Layer" menu at the top of the screen, or you can just right click on your layer and do it from there. I do it this way:

The bottom layer is left alone. The second duplicate (the top layer) is set to the soft light blend mode:

The first duplicate (the middle layer) is set to the screen blend mode. Both of these duplicate layers are not set to 100% opacity. I just played with their opacities until I got something that I liked. The "screen" blend is set to 27% and the "soft light" is set to 48%. Again, simply duplicating the opacities of the tutorial will not always get you the same results; play around with them until you get something that you like!

Once all of that is done, get friendly with the gradient tool. Here, I made a new layer and chose a gradient of stormy grey-blue colors.

Here's what the icon looks like with the gradient over it. I set this gradient layer to "hard light" at 35% opacity. When working with opacities and blend modes, everything depends on the image you're using. 35% on this icon looks fine, but 35% on a different image could make a much bigger or smaller difference, based on what's already there in your image. Blend modes also make a huge difference -- for example, I stay away from color burn in 99% of all icon-making instances, because using color burn is very tricky, and typically not a pretty thing. Color burn also tends to make your images look oversharpened, as it draws the darkest parts of your icon to the fore and highlights edges, so be careful if it is something you like using.

Anyway, back to the icon. This gradient at "hard light" at 35% opacity gives you this.

Then I created another layer and chose a red-to-pink gradient. I set it horizontally on the image and then chose "overlay" at 60% to warm the picture up from the blues I used in the previous layer.

The final gradient layer is rich purples set to "soft light" at 100% opacity. This warms up Aeryn's face and gives the background a bit more oomph.

I'm in a big "textless icons!" mood lately, so of course, this one gets to join in the ranks of my no-text icon army. I'm also a big fan of icons with heavy "widescreen bar" borders lately, so that's precisely what I did with Aeryn:

I will say right now, if everyone starts copying this tutorial piece-by-piece and "widescreen bar" borders becomes the newest overdone thing, I'm going to be really ticked off, and I'll give you all nasty papercuts with the gluey ends of post-it notes. Just a warning.

Voilá! She is complete!

Further Reading
An Introduction to Photoshop by _jems_
An Icon-Making Guide by dtissagirl
Adjustment Layers by elli

Screencap Resources
_jems_'s caps
Farscape-Caps.com
BSG Dark Thoughts
Doctor Who 2005 Caps
CSI (Vegas) Caps
The Bunny Sneezes HP Gallery (for the first two HP movies)
The Hogwarts Gallery
The War of the Ring Gallery (LotR)
VM-Caps.com
outnow.ch for hi-res studio stills (in German; "bilder" = hi-res goodies)
stock.xchg for stock images

Please comment let me know if you find this tutorial helpful to you, and feel free to spread it around. If you make something using the tutorial, show me! I'd love to see the different things you all come up with.

Multifandom Icon Post (HP, CSI, Star Wars, Dr. Who, Firefly, Random)

2005-07-18T03:14:57Z

It's a pretty big icon post, though I didn't think it would be. It's whatever has been made but not posted since the last big icon post, pretty much.

There are 68 icons in total. The first three HP icons are reposts, on accident. Whoops!

1. 2. 3. 4. 5.
6. 7. 8. 9. 10.
11. 12. 13. 14. 15.
16. 17.

18. 19. 20. 21. 22.
23. 24. 25. 26. 27.
28. 29. 30. 31. 32.

33. 34. 35. 36. 37.
38. 39. 40. 41.

42. 43. 44. 45.

46. 47. 48. 49. 50.
51. 52. 53. 54. 55.

56. 57. 58. 59. 60.
61. 62. 63. 64. 65.
66. 67. 68.

Few things:
--Comment and let me know what you think!
--Please credit chartulae in your keywords (or keyword comments) if you use any of these.
--Do not alter textless icons -- they are not bases!
--Enjoy!

Six West Wing Icons

2005-05-14T15:25:23Z

Ah, new fandoms.

1. 2. 3.
4. 5. 6.

If you take any, please credit chartulae in your keywords. Let me know what you think!