blood test results came back...
Apr. 5th, 2006 01:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skoosiepantsand I'm fine! No pregnancy and no thyroid problems and it's just... whew. Thank god. And thanks to everyone who wished me well *hugs you*
In other news,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
civilbloodshed is pure evil and her drabble prompt of HP/SGA for having correctly guessed my remix fic has taken over my brain. And the most horrid thing of all? It's not crack. I mean, its basis may seem like crack, but it's not. Sometimes, I like it when a story reminds me of how much I love words. And this? This, folks, is only the beginning. Be afraid. Be very afraid:
When John started Hogwarts, there was a crater the size of a farmhouse where a Whomping Willow used to stand, shallowed out by rain.
Lush grass the blue-green color of Texas grew dense in the center every spring, snapping hothouse flowers layered the bowl in the short months of summer, and in the fall and winter, fog hanging low and dew a chilly cling on every blade and petal, snow-white lilies, bells dark in the center, sagged on limp stems wherever the Willow used to shake off its turning summer coat.
A slim, twisted Japanese maple, star-like purple leaves stubbornly present during every dreary season of Scotland, arched over a circular stone slab that marked the edge of the hole closest to the castle. And on the slab was an epitaph, cryptic verse in a carved scrawl, with points about moors and gray heather and a city at the bottom of the sea; about black hounds and the sky at four p.m. and the slow, mellow burn of early autumn. Square-cut hieroglyphics rimmed the outside, half-buried under aged moss, impressions caked with dirt from over a decade of weather.
No one knew what it meant or who had placed it there.
Most said, though, that if you followed the words to their end, you’d find Harry Potter. But Harry Potter, boy-savior, was dead.
In other news,
civilbloodshed is pure evil and her drabble prompt of HP/SGA for having correctly guessed my remix fic has taken over my brain. And the most horrid thing of all? It's not crack. I mean, its basis may seem like crack, but it's not. Sometimes, I like it when a story reminds me of how much I love words. And this? This, folks, is only the beginning. Be afraid. Be very afraid:When John started Hogwarts, there was a crater the size of a farmhouse where a Whomping Willow used to stand, shallowed out by rain.
Lush grass the blue-green color of Texas grew dense in the center every spring, snapping hothouse flowers layered the bowl in the short months of summer, and in the fall and winter, fog hanging low and dew a chilly cling on every blade and petal, snow-white lilies, bells dark in the center, sagged on limp stems wherever the Willow used to shake off its turning summer coat.
A slim, twisted Japanese maple, star-like purple leaves stubbornly present during every dreary season of Scotland, arched over a circular stone slab that marked the edge of the hole closest to the castle. And on the slab was an epitaph, cryptic verse in a carved scrawl, with points about moors and gray heather and a city at the bottom of the sea; about black hounds and the sky at four p.m. and the slow, mellow burn of early autumn. Square-cut hieroglyphics rimmed the outside, half-buried under aged moss, impressions caked with dirt from over a decade of weather.
No one knew what it meant or who had placed it there.
Most said, though, that if you followed the words to their end, you’d find Harry Potter. But Harry Potter, boy-savior, was dead.
