~posted to tww100

Title: Sarcasm on heels
Characters/Pairings: CJ/Simon
Word count: 100
A/N: challenge #47 – gains/losses. This is the first drabble I've written in seven months. Feels good to be back.
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"I like that you're tall," she had said. Now she wished she had said more. She wished she had said that his eyes were warm, that he made her feel warm. That he made her feel like a girl again, instead of sarcasm on heels.

And now he was gone, and so was the hope he had awakened in her. All she had was a handful of memories, a few unguarded smiles, and a hole in her heart, a heart that had almost forgotten it was lonely. Oh god, it felt as if it would break under her clenched fists.



Title: Don't call her sentimental
Characters/Pairings: Margaret/Leo
Word count: 100
A/N: challenge #47 – gains/losses. This one came to me at 2am; I scrawled it down and tweaked it this morning.
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She used to dream of being the Bond girl. Now she can't watch Bond movies, because when she sees the faithful, unrequited love in Miss Moneypenny's eyes, she starts to cry and can't stop. She never used to cry at movies.

She doesn't know when she lost the ability to look at Leo with simple respect, or when that respect turned into affection, or when that affection turned into a hopeless, longing, and above all, unrequited love.

She used to dream of being the Bond girl. Now she just fights every day so no one realizes she is Miss Moneypenny.

(a/n: Now she only watches "In Her Majesty's Secret Service", because it is the only time Bond gives his heart away. I couldn't work that in to the drabble.)

Current Mood: triumphant

I think I've spent my entire life waiting for someone to ask me the question. I think I've always believed that everyone who met me knew, somehow, that I had a secret.

When there is something you can tell no one, does it taint everything you do, everything you say? Does it make every word from your mouth a lie, even if that is the only lie you tell?

It feels that way. Which explains, I suppose, why I never hesitated to tell a lie to save myself.

"Abbs, do you know where Kate has her tat?"

Abby nodded. "Yep," she said cheerfully.

a/n: overview
This was a dream from last week. It was extremely vivid, and, like many of my plot-driven dreams, complex. Far more was going on in the dream than I understood.

This is recorded in my typical dream style -- as much as possible has been turned into story, but my priority is getting it down so I can work on it later.

setup
George Washington and his wife, Martha. He looked more like Lincoln, though; a huge, raw-boned man. He is brandishing a page from an album with a picture of a young woman -- is she black? is she a slave? Martha tries to deny it is her in the picture, but she cannot deny it for long.

story
Her shoulders slump as she turns to face him, and the watcher sees that one side of her face is ravaged by a complicated runnels joining over a collapsed scar. When she speaks, her voice is hoarse and low, and she seems to have reverted to the ignorant, uneducated mountain girl of her youth. "If you know who I am, then you know this is your daddy's brand!"

"I know who you are, and I know who put that on your face," he said grimly. The menace in his voice alerted her. Her ancient eyes flew to his rawboned face, and what she saw there frightened her. She called a name the watcher could not distinguish, and then, as her husband began to walk towards her, added "Come into the room!"

But no one came. And he murdered her, his enormous hands clenching her neck until her body went limp. And then her son did come, and helped his father hang a noose and hoist her onto a chair. The watcher could not distinguish who put the noose around her neck, or know with absolute certainty that she was dead when they lowered her from the chair.

a/n: unanswered questions
Why didn't they kick the chair away? Did they not break her neck because she was dead, or did they want her to strangle? She looked dead, or at least, unconscious. What was the writing beneath the picture -- who was she, really? She was obviously passing for something , but what? What the hell was the scar on her face -- could it have been made by a knife, cutting deeply through the mysterious brand, to obscure it? Could it be from the brand itself?

If I cannot bring you comfort, I shall strive to bring you hope
~possum96 posted, he can't remember where it comes from

a/n: barely a first draft

"Here," Andromeda said abruptly, handing a small box to her daughter. "You need these more now than I do. And you having them will cause Aunt Lucille [my name for Sirius' mother] to spin in her grave."

"Why?" Tonks asked, warily accepting the box.

"She gave them to me before I went to Hogwarts. Before she realized what a... what was that odd phrase her painting used? Blood traitor? Yes. Before she realized what a blood traitor I was, she used to give me little treasures from her trove."

Tonks carefully opened the box, but flinched despite herself when she saw the eyes looking up at her. She carefully closed the box and set it down on the table.

"YEUCCH!" she finally shouted.

"That's what I thought."

"Why did she give these to you?"

"I can tell you that. Actually, I've never managed to forget what she said. She gave me this and the Biting Trunk, and said that every woman forced to live with others needed two things: to protect the things she didn't want seen, and a way to see what people don't want her to see."

Olivia to Alex
Oh, no. Oh no no no no no no. Alex, it's ok. Alex, it's ok. Alex. It's ok, sweetie. Stay with me. Stay with me. Alex, you're going to be ok. Just stay with me. Alex? Alex, it's ok.

* * *

Alex to Olivia and Stabler
I am so sorry about all of this.

Olivia, stunned
Your funeral's tomorrow.

Alex and Olivia look at each other. Olivia moves forward. "How long?", she asked, her voice breaking. Alex just looks at her, pale and drawn, as Olivia blinks back tears.

"You would not want her spotted, would you?" He nodded at Hermione.

"Granger, they're arfter Muggles. Unless you want to be showing off your knickers in mid-air?"

Why did Draco warn Hermione? (For it was a warning.) All I can think of is that he is fascinated with her -- certainly no one else has ever dared hit him in the face.

It makes me see why people write Draco/Hermione/Ginny, with Ginny always the leftover. I don't want to write Ginny like that.

Qylle: Mary SUE! Mary Jane is entirely different. She's cool. We like her! :)

Lyl: Sorry, I knew it was Mary-somebody. Somehow I mixed her up with Bob's sister. Go fig. ;>

Lyl: Hey, if you put an obvious avatar of yourself into a New Testament (think of it as religious fanfic), is it a Mary Magdalene?

Current Mood: dying!

( brief overview )

http://www.botanical.com/botanical/mgmh/f/foxglo30.html

---Habitat---
( habitat )

Needing little soil, it is found often in the crevices of granite walls, as well as in dry hilly pastures, rocky places and by roadsides. Seedling Foxgloves spring up rapidly from recently-turned earth. Turner (1548), says that it grows round rabbitholes freely.

---Description---
The normal life of a Foxglove plant is two seasons, but sometimes the roots, which are formed of numerous, long, thick fibres, persist and throw up flowers for several seasons.

This fits! The magic died out of Foxglove's family (matrilineal) after their Great-Grandmother died in the war against Grindlewald in 1945. Her daughter inherited her books and supplies, but not her power. Foxglove's mother was a Squib who married a Muggle, who, like her, came from a family that was once magical.)

( more about the flower )

( old herbal uses )

A domestic use of the Foxglove was general throughout North Wales at one time, when the leaves were used to darken the lines engraved on the stone floors which were fashionable then. This gave them a mosaiclike appearance.

( Medicinal Action and Uses )