At least the scarecrow had straw

[trinityofone]

I suck. Like, a lot. I know I owe people comments and e-mails (blueandomlettes! God, I am so sorry); I also have three essays due increasingly soon, and all I have managed are crappy, not-even-outlines for two of them. But my brain is mush. Babyfood. Strained beets.

Some things that have managed to make me happy? Well, over at artword, the current challenge for artists is based on my fic Realm of Dryads, and slodwick and tardis80 have already made gorgeous posters/covers which you can see here and here. Guh. They're both amazingly-shivery-good. (Plus, the current artword challenge for writers is awesome, too. If I ever get my brain back, I must work on the little kernel of an idea I have for it.)

Also, cynicatlantis made this fabulous little comic that combines two of my favorite things and is adorable to boot. *happy sigh* I think I'll be clicking back to that a lot today.

Finally, because I seriously doubt that I will get anything useful done today, and because I've been boring-as-hell lately (I like to think that I'm boring when I don't post, and not the other way around. No need to shatter my illusions, mmkay?), I figure I'll offer to do comment drabbles again. Comment with a prompt, and I'll write you a drabble. Eventually. (Hey, I did ALL of them last time! I totally win!) And, er, I'm gonna limit it to SGA this time, 'cause I don't really feel like writing anything else.

Now back to pondering boysex...er, "The Rape of the Lock" and Joycean epiphanies.

Comments

Lullaby

[trinityofone.livejournal.com]

John is committed to: his people’s safety, no matter the cost; and his own belief, no matter how wrong, in what he thinks is right. He is not committed to: relationships he knows will only end in anger, in tears. He’s spread so thin already; he can’t afford to give what’s left over to another’s trust.

And yet: instinct wars with desire, watching him as he sleeps. The cost, he believes, will be quite high—to them both. But this feels right, in his heart. He gives it so little quarter.

Tonight, then—tonight he can find certainty in this.