Morningschtuff

First: The evernifty ladeelazarus has put together ljfridayfive so's we can all get our Friday Five fix again.

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Success! I have finally (for those of you who care) dragged out of Jack the actual /substance/ of the final Jack-Trish argument. And a further clue as to why he was wallowing in the Pits of Angst, too. *french kisses muse* I hate when I see the end but I have no idea how to get /to/ the end.
(The first nine parts are linked in this post. Yes, I updated it to include part nine.) I am determined to have part ten up by the time I go to sleep, or die trying. It'll probably be shorter. But I'm not sure that that is a bad thing, as such. Perhaps I make things too long. Do I make things too long? I've been putting linebreaks in. :-D Problem is that the main proofreader that isn't me is The Husband, and JAWS doesn't give a damn whether blank lines exist between paragraphs or not. And I'm used to the way I write ... so yeah.

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Yesterday was a fine day which involved much doing of nothing. Today is a fine day which involves much doing of laundry. So the book's on to something - first ecstacy, then the laundry.
Wait, there was no ecstasy yesterday.
First lying around, then the laundry? That's more accurate.

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Note to self: find Madellianverse icons. Something with the light coming through the leaves. That kind of works as an Allanna-avatar.

More boypictures

( The haircut's not /that/ bad ... I don't think ...? )

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Bear in mind that this man passed on his DNA.

I love my husband, really I do, but sometimes he's just disturbing.

Wounding and healing: part ten.

And /finally/ we see some real progress in today's episode. Progress, and a little backstory, and NO MORE ANGSTING. Go Jacky! It's your birthday!
(Well, not really. Jack's birthday's in June. But you know.)
Previous episodes are here. I'm trying to keep that updated with a list of links. It's easier to link to a set of links like that, ayup ayup ayup, sure is.


The next morning dawned warm once again, the air thick and humid with ominous clouds lurking just out of range. Jack guessed that it would rain before the day was out.

They decided that walking was the best option and set out after a leisurely breakfast of fruit and some kind of yellow custard that was actually quite tasty. The scullery boy lived just outside of town, at the fringes of what might be called suburbia, where ordered cobblestone streets gave way to dirt roads and buildings were no longer shoulder to shoulder, instead spaced further out with small gardens and greenery between.

"There's his house." Nira pointed out a small thatch cottage squatted in the center of a small plot of land, at the end of the street about a half mile away. A messy-haired boy around the age of sixteen was half-heartedly weeding the garden. "The question is how we're going to get him out of the garden without arousing suspicion. How close do you people need to get?"
( Click for the rest. )