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[Mar 9th, 3:24pm] |
Dear Powers That Be,
I'm getting a bit put out that there's not a single person here who is both from my world and knows who the hell I am. So if you're going to be doing this bed-snatching bit anyway, would you mind snatching me a friend, relative, or acquaintance from the UWN who isn't too young to have met me yet? At this point, I'd take Mrs. Knotter and her eighteen kneazles who follow her into the shop no matter what we do to keep them out every Tuesday, thanks loads.
Ta,
Lily Black,
Who Is About To Start Brewing Up Something Hallucinogenic and Imagining Herself Some Friends
PS if this counts as the sort of outburst that gets me dragged out of my flat at midnight, or that, well okay, at least it'll be exciting, but be warned that I do bite.
[Added after this.]
[Warded to UWN!Sirius BlackSeverus SnaJames Potter]
I know you're not here yet, or maybe ever, but then again no one else is either, and half the people who are here have disappeared, and then yet again I might have gone completely nutters and be scribbling this in chalk on the walls of the institution in which case you'd better be standing right there with me reading it, mister, so here goes.
There's a world where Grindelwald is in jail, and Dumbledore is doing Merlin knows what, and there's some knob named voldemort doing to muggles what they did to us which is to say trying to kill them all off, which is just as mad and evil as vice versa, don't you think? And in that world you're not my brother, you're my husband, and Sirius is your friend who's never even thought about me Like That, and Severus called me a mudblood (oh by the way, I'm a muggleborn in this world) at the age of fifteen and we haven't spoken since, partly because I'm dead now. But apparently our world's the mad one, given the way everyone here looks at me like I'm the most freakish thing they've seen in the year 8700 where there are eight of everyone running around, har har har did I mention that bit yet. And now Severus, who's apparently been running round helping to kill all the muggles, because that's very like him, is finished apologizing to not-dead me, which I can only assume means they're both even stubborner wankers than me and Sev are, because I can't bloody fucking imagine forever refusing to forgive him for one thing that happened at fifteen, but then again I can't imagine him not apologizing thirty-two times an hour until I gave in, either, if only because I'm the only person he bloody talks to anyway and how bloody lonely would he be without me, and basically I'm about seventy-three percent sure I'm scribbling this on the institution wall after all but it doesn't feel like it, it feels like I'm writing in a mad journal that talks back in the middle of a mad world where there's two other versions of me I can have conversations with, and I really wish you were off your knob with me rather than watching me scribble piteously from your place of sanity right now because I could use a hug from my brother when he's actually my brother and not my husband or brother-in-law or what the hell ever.
Oh, and if you do show up and see this, hello, I'm having a breakdown but now so are you, welcome.
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