According to my stats, an amazing number of people have been looking at this, so maybe I ought to put something profound here:

- But then I realized that I don't really have that much to say that's all that profound...

SO...

I'm having troubles getting the words to flow on anything. I recently sat down and forced out the 2.2k words that became "It just tastes better", but that hasn't helped in the slightest. Chapter 24 of Technomage continues to not cooperate I'm up to 4300 words and just can't get the second task to jell. The third task is similarly going nowhere, though I do have the aftermath of the Third finished and I'm happy with it.

Death's Knight Chapter 5 is outlined and prepped. If Technomage or Distaff don't break free, I may end up moving on to it. Or possibly chapter 4 of Legion, which is also ready to go.

Status of my current works: Dismal. A massive, massive case of writers block.

Harry Potter and the Invincible Technomage: Chapter 25 is fully outlined sitting at about 3.2k words, aiming at 10k.

Harry Potter and the Distaff Side: Chapter 18, fully outlined and sitting at: 5k words aiming at about 8K

Death's Knight: Chapter 5, fully outlined w/ Harry heading into space, and sort of regretting it.

Legion: Chapter 4, mostly outlined. Borrowing a concept or two from a favorite fic, just for the giggles

A bit from a story I playing with when I can't get the words to flow on my current focus; Working title: Roomies... A post-war story in which Harry lives a quiet life with Tom, his roommate. Harry's final move was to bond Voldemort's soul onto a purple Furby, which the Dark Lord learns to see and speak through. A somewhat less than mobile Tom is addicted to Television and threatening Ron, and the world's cutest dark lord is always trying to convince Harry to move him off the coffee table in the sitting room onto the wardrobe in Harry's bedroom so that he could spectate when Harry has a woman over for recreational sex. Just a silly little idea.

"Hey, Tom," Ron Weasley said as he settled into one of the easy chairs in the sitting room of Harry's flat. Over the years, he'd taken a liking to annoying Harry's flatmate.

"For the thousandth time, Weasley," the former Dark Lord growled, "do not presume to address me by my Muggle father's name."

"Yeah, yeah," the redhead agreed sarcastically. "Threats and intimidation, I know. Tom, you take yourself way too seriously."

"When the Dark Lord Voldemort returns to his rightful place of power," Tom thundered in what he imagined to be a threatening tone, "you will be the first to die!" The effect was somewhat diminished by his status of being a small purple doll that oddly resembled some kind of furry owl.

"I'm just happy to be included," Ron laughed.

"Silence!" Tom commanded, using his limited control of his new form to scowl. "Coronation Street is starting!"

Though it was impossible to tell, but somehow Ron knew that the sum total of Tom Riddle's attention was now focused on Harry's new widescreen telly.

"All right, Ron?" Harry asked as he entered the room from his bedroom buttoning the cuff of his right sleeve as he did so.

"Oh, sure," Ron agreed, "just basking in the glory that is our mate, Tom."

"He gets that a lot," Harry agreed with a smile. "Ready for tonight?"

"Oh, yeah," Ron agreed. "Don't use my wand, don't talk about magic, don't drink too much, and no hitting on her classmates. You know, Hermione's whole list. I plan on disobeying rules three and four most enthusiastically."

"Hermione will kill you," Harry pointed out.

"Nope," Ron disagreed, "That's what you're there for. You distract her as only you can, and I'll party 'til dawn."

"You're hilarious, Ron," Harry laughed as he knotted his tie.

"And loveable," Ron protested. "You always forget loveable. So, are we going to have to call her 'Doctor'?"

"Just tonight," Harry explained, "and just until we annoy the shite out of her. After that, she's Hermione, the same as always."

"Got it," Ron stood up and buttoned his jacket, "You're looking short and speccy as usual, how do I look? Suitably Muggle?"

"I had no idea you could pile shite this high," Harry answered sarcastically as he looked his friend up and down. "Eh, you'll do. If anyone notices, we'll just tell them you're autistic."

"I always fancied myself the artistic type," Ron nodded.

- For anyone who cares, I've also got an original piece or two over at fictionpress.com...