Progress

I'm now unveiled. I feel at once more self-confidence and also more mortal terror: I'm visible now. People can see me. People will notice me. I have to get used to being seen. None of us who live in here now have ever been exposed to that before. Joan-prime put on that veil before we were born.

Figment's wife still intimidates me -- not by personality, but by position. She's touchy over my position as well, and it's dreadfully hard to get to know someone personally while on opposite sides of the undiscovered country. We've got a decent go-between, though, even though it's disconcerting for all concerned. Not all of us are used to living in the middle of a fantasy novel, after all.

I've got an extra attachment on the cord that usually only holds my silver star. This one's for all the things that need to stay there as a reminder at all times...

Wherein I explain, or at least try to sum up.

( A letter to a dead woman. )

Ow on the ow-stick

Dear body:

What ever happened to the whole concept of "The Lunatic cycles not more than once every thirty-five days" concept? Do the math here, my friend. March 17 - February 19 < 35. < 28, even. This is not good, wholesome, family-oriented fun-time here. This is "What crawled out of your ovaries?" time. We are not amused. Okay, we're amused, but we're also very curious as to why you've picked this time to decide to simulate something approximating a normal schedule, if one cycle can be loosely interpreted to involve "schedule".

WTF?,
me


This is going to be a really interesting week. *facepalm*

Ficcage

"In the Closet" Harry/Draco. Sorta.