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

[reccea.livejournal.com]

(All of the artwork is so good! People totally love you.)

John, Rodney, "when the evening is spread out against the sky"

:)

Let Us Go Then (You and I)

[trinityofone.livejournal.com]

They’ve started taking these walks. Just after sunset, when the sky is purple fading into black. They pace the halls together, often silent, without words: just because. “For the pleasure of your company,” they both have joked, because of course it is ridiculous. They see each other all the time.

They often end up on a balcony, pausing, staring out at the waves. Leaning against the rail, Rodney will turn in toward Sheppard’s face and watch the wind flick his hair across his forehead. Sometimes he thinks about leaning further, but he knows he never, ever will.

He doesn’t dare.

Re: Let Us Go Then (You and I)

[reccea.livejournal.com]

*shivers*

Oh just perfect. (Oh Rodney!) Absolutely perfect. Thank you.