Hi folks,

I've been incommunicado for a very long time, and now I am posting. Perhaps another day there will be actual content. Dream big, me!

Also, I am well and hope you are, too.

--Sli

P.S. It's 1:40am and a bird outside my window just started singing. This fits awfully well with the Disney Princess theme I was kinda working here already. Thanks, insomniac bird!

In 2009 I wrote these stories:

Ray/Ray smut for meresy's porn tag.

We have nothing to touch this engine (My Life as a Dog, Johnny/Louis, porny) for midsummer2009.

And my first ever Yuletide contribution, Slow Ship Turning (Fast & Furious, Dom/Brian, porny).

Yuletide was a blast (seriously, have you SEEN the fics I got? And all the others?), though a pointed reminder (AGAIN) that I'll only be a decent writer on the day somebody stands over me with a loaded shotgun and glowers until the words come out. Failing that, I did the predictable up to the deadline barely finishing, five minutes for beta, wasn't there going to be another scene there, fuck it, oh my god I'm late for work routine I do so well. Le sigh. Still! I made a story! P.S. zabira wins all the roses forever for the capslocky encouragement and support and speed read (eta: also because she postponed rereading certain F&F fics in solidarity with me until the fic was submitted. THERE IS NO GREATER SACRIFICE).

Two (2!) stories for me, and both of them amazing.

Just A Job, Southland. John Cooper knows better. Understated, yearn-y holy hot Cooper/Sherman, and supercool Chickie and Cesar, and this one line that made me whimper. Out loud. This story makes me love Cooper even more than I did before, so it's possible I have been replaced on a molecular level with little glowy sparks of John Cooper love.

And It's The Thought That Counts, Harold and Kumar. "Dude, don't even lie about how you're totally into me," Kumar says. HEE. This is flail-my-hands-about-giddily damn near perfect, makes me crave a half-eaten burrito, and the Kumar voice kills.

Thank you, Yuletide authors and organizers. I could not be happier or grinning more foolishly.

It's a beautiful day today and I have a lull between family things (and thank everything for my family being here and happy and all that) for lazing about on the couch with my computer. Love and win.

P.S. The Archive of Our Own is a wee bit swamped today, but you want to remember these links for later even if you don't get them loaded today. Because! AWESOME. (Also, authors, am having trouble leaving comments, but be assured my love is real and it can be seen from outer space.)

So I'm sitting here reading a newspaper, one printed on paper like in the good old days. I wonder what time it is, so I check the upper right corner of the screen paper.

There is no clock at the upper right corner. Because a newspaper is not a laptop! (Note to print media: look into clocks on the page. Could turn things around in a big way.)

1. I could watch this adorable boy, unfortunate chinhair notwithstanding, perform songs in ASL all day long. And maybe I will.

2. ( Dear Yuletide writerpersonCollapse )

3. The little pisser/Odell/doglet #2 just had a nightmare and howled wretchedly in his sleep until I shook him out of it. This happens not infrequently, is the only time he actually howls, and is the cutest little sound/image of abject misery you can imagine. Adorable little fucker. (Longtime joke: his nightmare: "THERE'S NO MORE KIBBLE!" *cue heart breaking*)

Guys! Last night I had dinner and hours of fantastic rambling fannish conversation with exeterlinden, and it was awesome and yet more reason for the immediate invention of the Fannish Teleportation Device. Because she lives so very far awaaaaaay, and while I'm sure Denmark is lovely and she has some attachment to it, I find that distance extremely displeasing. (Which is to say, if you ever get the chance to hang out with her, grab it like whoa and bring me along.)

So I wrote a bit of MLaaD porn for Midsummer 2009. In order to write this, I had to refresh my memory on Louis and Johnny and whether there was slash there.

Yes, yes there is.

Louis (silent s) and Johnny present: Slash ( We Has It. A visual reference.Collapse )

*ahem*

Having one of my favorite authors in the whole wide world write, to my request, a time-stamp follow-up to this Nero Wolfe/Archie Goodwin AU makes me happy in a big way. Big like colossal, immense, tremendous, extensive, king-sized, Nero Wolfe-sized. Big like clapping my hands and laughing to myself while walking down the street days later and possibly for years to come, because, hey! Parhelion wrote me a story! (Utterly unsurprisingly, but entirely pleasingly, it kicks ass.)

P.S. Good work there, universe. I am being very responsible and aware of the limitations of my apartment when I do not now ask for a pony. Just in case. (Also, I know my tastes and can say with confidence that I would be beyond pissed if I ended up with a stupid whimsical pony instead of, say, more stories from favorite authors.)

P.P.S. Ohmyfuckinggodstoryyay.

Despite my writing not being very writingly of late, I took the plunge and sent in my sign-up form for midsummer2009. Because! Midsummer is candy. Midsummer is C6D flexing its sweet, strange little muscles and getting some Canadians laid who SERIOUSLY need to get laid. And half the time you're writing in a quiet, rarely explored corner of C6D, so whether you write a magnificent epic or a wee character study or some hot, dirty porn, it is rare and delightful and JUST what somebody has been wanting. So that is very good, I think, and I support it.

And while it's fresh in my mind and way before the assignments are sent out and, hey! There's still time for some of you to sign up and maybe write this for me, because you are lovely, talented people, here's a premature Dear Midsummer Santa letter:

( Dear Midsummer writerCollapse )

This morning the dogs and I went for a walk down to the water, where we sat and looked at the water and I looked forward to swimming there and the dogs wrestled in a manly fashion. I was very pleased with myself, as I was under the weather over the weekend and being able to walk the distance was satisfying. As we walked, a man driving a garbage truck gave us an enthusiastic two-handed thumbs-up, inexplicably and pleasingly. Back home, I watched Mean Girls and am now having my computer read me His Majesty's Dragon, because I am years behind on significant media events. While I listen, I'm altering my clothes so I can resist the temptation to buy new ones, and my feeble sewing skills are making me feel thriftier and more talented than is entirely warranted. And it's raining outside, so I should continue to stay right where I am. Where there is tea and, later, pasta with roquefort. And where there are snoring dogs. And dragons.

I like today.