...My head needs help. Lots of help.

I was reading my fun were-creature P&P fic, with dragon!Darcy, dog!Bingley and dog!Jane, and Jane getting ready for a ball (in previous posts, obviously) and talking about the amber light of the room and Bingley was asleep and so couldn't see it, and my first thought was...

I wonder if dogs' color-blindness would carry over to human forms? I mean, there's never been any evidence of it in shapeshifters, and that's a slightly different process and I can understand that.  But weres... it's sort of a part of their biology, y'know? It stands to reason that some of the... disadvantages might carry over?  I mean, if Oz could keep his sense of smell to an extent, or even sound or whatever, it sorta makes sense, no?

My head is dead. Please come to the funeral. Arrangements for said event will be revealed in the future.

Also, I'm always right. Never argue with me. I can out-argue anyone.  Especially if it's about things like the nature of time.

...Also, I miss JP. My god, I haven't seen him in a year, and I STILL have a crush on his freckles, hair, cello playing, and Discworld-loving. *sighs* I fail.

Also, yey for sketchy bootlegging. Whooot. Prosceniums are useful!

THANK WHATEVER POWER GOT ME HOME THIS AFTERNOON, THANK WHATEVER POWRE MADE ME SHEET WHITE AND MADE MY MTAP TEACHER WORRY, THANK WHATEVER POWER SENT THAT FUCKING LETTER TODAY.

...STOP THAT YOU...

Ignore that.  Really. And any random jokes about just who runs this world will be shot dead and the jokester tortured.

Utumno agar tummen.

*Cries, cries, cries*

Good crying. Witness my delayed nervous breakdown.

*Weeps*

(...Although I think the Narrative Laws of Irony are still in full, fine form. Fuck them.)

I want to die now. In a good way. But I still want to.  *Curls up* Nauseous, relieved beyond ability to cope, heartsick... gods I feel like shit.

...In an oddly good way.