garnigal | Writing Meme (from silvrdragn)

Ask me one question - any one - about my writing, then post this in your LJ so I can satisfy my curiosity about yours...

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I know a lot of you haven't read any of my writing - I do have two stories posted at fanfiction.net as GarniGal if you want to ask something specific.

(Edit: I forgot - I also have a few drabbles in open_on_sunday on LJ - for ease of use, I'll post them here.)

Cravings – Jan 31, ‘05

Dawn was sobbing quietly upstairs when Buffy walked in the door. Buffy knew that her sister was trying not to be heard, but her Slayer senses kept bringing the sorrowful sound to her ears. It finally got to be too much so she plodded upstairs to comfort Dawn.
“What’s wrong?”
Hiccupping, choking and still with fat tears rolling down her thin cheeks, Dawn finally answered. “I have a craving for Mom’s roast chicken and dumplings.”
When Willow and Tara finally got home from school, Buffy and Dawn were still sobbing and mumbling about food, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

Party – Feb 06, ‘05

Buffy stopped dead. Head tilted, she tried to identify the unexpected sound floating through the dark Roman night. Her hand slid nearer the hidden stake.
There! The wind died down for a moment and the raucous sound could be heard clearly. She turned left and ran silently.
Light spilled from around an old wooden door. Hesitantly, Buffy pushed the door open. Could have been the whiskey, might have been the gin. Could have been three or four six-packs. Italian accented voices sang along with the Irish Rovers.
Buffy grinned and reached for her cell phone. Dawn needed to hear this.

Party – Feb 06, ‘05

Rome is night after night of dancing alone in a crowd.
Andrew loves the high life, and hits the classy clubs with subdued, sultry music and darkened corners. He’s in demand as a safe and graceful escort, and so what if he occasionally hides in shadowy corners with hot young Italian men?
Dawn seeks out the joints that cater to American tourists. She wants music that she can sing along with and a crowd where everyone speaks English.
Buffy heads for pumping bass, wailing guitar and flashing lights. The clubs she dances at cater to the young and the immortal.

Valentine’s Day – Feb 13, ‘05

Arms crossed, Dawn pouted in her room. ‘Stupid Valentine’s Day. Everyone has a date, so I’m stuck at home with the babysitter,’ she thought resentfully.
She’d whined her way through the day, hoping to guilt someone into home, but instead she was sent to her room for being childish. Now Buffy and Joyce rushed happily around the house, primping.
Downstairs, the doorbell rang. Dawn’s pout deepened. After a moment, someone tapped gently on her door. Buffy, Willow and Xander stood there, each holding out an offering; a card, a box of chocolates, a bunch of flowers, and three wide smiles.