skoosiepants: (Jon Walker approves!)
So is insanejournal the prefered exodus journal if anything happens to LJ? If you have one, I'd appreciate you either dropping me a line with your username or friending me over there - same name as here, I'm easy like that.

I've backed up both this journal and dirtytrousers with LJarchive, and I'm going to try and back up my communities, too, but those aren't as important.

Enough depressing news!

Um. I don't have anything else to say, though.

Except I had exceptionally vivid dreams last night, some about Mike Doughty, and one about Merlin who worked in a coffee shop with Jon Walker - it took on fic proportions, where Jon kept asking Merlin if he knew this guy (Arthur), sitting alone at a table, because when he ordered he had a funny accent like Merlin's, and Merlin kept insisting that not all British people knew each other, and then Jon was like, but you know Gwen, and Merlin just gives him this you're slightly dim, right, your mother dropped you on your head a lot look. And then I don't know what else happened. Wierd, weird dreams.
skoosiepants: (merlin)
I'm just a little hung up on what to write. Which means you're probably going to get poorly plotted AU fic, but whatever.

And omg, I'm on my fifth day off from work and I'm going insane. I can't wait to go back into the office tomorrow, you have no idea. Blessed peace and quiet! No cats lounging on my chest or dogs barking in my face! This is why I can never work from home.

ETA: Hey, I just updated my homepage, check it out and let me know what you think? Is it less confusing, more confusing, doesn't make much difference - I could make a poll, but I'm extremely lazy.

Also, for some reason, I'm still writing William's House of Orphans. It's kind of really, really bad :) Like, so so bad, oh man, but I'm having so much ridiculous fun:

Ryan never remembers to eat, but Spencer has long since stopped trying to collect him for dinner. It’s just as easy to cajole a tray out of Cook later than to ferret out wherever Ryan’s wandered off to.

So Spencer’s alone when he slips into the dining room and finds someone who he doesn’t know, grinning at Jon like Jon’s discovered chocolate ice cream or shoe buckles – Spencer’s awfully fond of shoe buckles – and Spencer’s stomach does this flip. This truly annoying giddy flip that he quickly covers with a frown and narrowed eyes. Spencer isn’t all that comfortable around strangers.

Victoria stops by Spencer’s side where he’s hovering in the doorway. Victoria has always been the greatest of tomboys, but she’s recently ceased lacing their fingers together, and she’s recently started donning the most ridiculous dresses that Spencer supposes are stylish, somewhere, but seem a great deal more hassle than the lighter skirts she could ruck up to her knees when they went tree climbing out back. She clasps his hand now, though, and tugs him further into the room, whispering out the side of her mouth, “His name’s Brendon, and I’m afraid he’s the most adorable boy I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“More than me?” Spencer asks, smiling now, like he’s sure she meant to have happen.

Victoria pinches his arm playfully. “I just said, didn’t I?”

“Shrew,” Spencer says.

“Harpy,” Victoria counters.
skoosiepants: (*pets Jon*)
* Firstly, someone has to put Merlin and Arthur on Atlantis, okay? That just should happen, like, immediately. I kind of want to make Merlin a gate tech *hands* so he doesn't know why Arthur is always taking him off-world.

* Secondly, someone NEEDS to write a fic where Jon Walker saves Christmas. I don't care how - maybe something Santa Clause-esque, only without him aging and rounding out; or maybe Jon's mysterious Uncle Nick needs some holiday help! Maybe he always disappears in radio silence to "Chicago" each year, but really he's up at the North Pole! Seriously. Seriously, think about it now, JON WALKER SAVES CHRISTMAS, HOW CAN THAT NOT BE A RECIPE FOR EXTREME AWESOME?

* Also, I'm feeling totally glum, so here's a bunch of random WIPs (Amnesty, anyone?)

Ghosts R Us, featuring exasperated!Spence, fakeaccent!Brendon, sexuallyinapropriateghost!Ryan, and haunted!Jon )

Pastor Jon, featuring it'sapraisebandnotacult!Ryan and choosingtobeamused!Spencer )

Tea Shop Jon, featuring staidandboring!Jon, enthusiasticcook!Joe, and squintyeyed!Spencer, AKA the boring one that I abandoned for being boring )

Alternate Beach Dog Universe, where Brendon has a boy and Ryan fosters kids and has too many cats - you can see why I didn't go with this original version )

And speaking of Beach Dog, here's a Mary Beth and Eddie snippet set right before they joined Five Days and AZF on tour for Plays Out Like A Drum )

And just for fun, here's a Beach Dog Marty and Keltie snippet, because god knows when that's actually getting written )

And... I'm spent.
skoosiepants: (Bob - he can fix unicorns)
Merlin is the greatest show of the gay since Stargate: Atlantis. It's AMAZING FUN. Pretty much all I've been doing for the past four days is watching Merlin and reading Merlin fic. They are so adorable! ALSO UNICORNS.

Also, I've been writing Bob naked. Not as porny as it sounds, but! Naked Bob!
skoosiepants: (pie.  serious business)
Happy Thanksgiving! Who else is old enough to remember Comedy Central's MST3K Turkey Day marathons? I used to LOVE them. I wouldn't leave the TV for the whole day. *le sigh* Oh, the good old days.

In other news - does anyone know if Merlin can be watched online? Alas, I have no other means of watching it, and I'm insanely curious, although it looks like NBC will be airing it next winter, maybe? Which is just weird.

I have nothing else going on. Have to brave J's fam for Thanksgiving dinner - god, I hate family gatherings. People make me uncomfortable!


ETA: Merlin = FANTASTIC, I want to skip dinner and just keep watching all night!
skoosiepants: (flash - YES!)
I don't know how I started reading Merlin/Arthur fics, but whatever. This is what NEAR CONSTANT WRITER'S BLOCK does to my brain. That said, I wrote a little more of my Joe/Bob fic? Joe's on a talk show about music! He cut off all his hair! Bob is messing with his sleep patterns! That's about all I have right now. It's a little lame, but whatever.

Greta does not actually kill Joe, but it’s a close thing. He’s curled into his seat at the end of the oval table, head ducked to his notes, and he’s studiously ignoring the way Greta is sniffling and making wounded faces at him and trying to talk Brendon into an even brighter shirt than usual to take some of the emphasis away from the fact that Joe has, “Ruined the entire aesthetic of the show, oh my god, Trohman, how could you?”

Lacey has an evilly smug smile on his face as he stands off to the side of the stage, mug of coffee between both hands, hunched over like he’s about to break out in a mad cackle. Joe does some rash things. Joe should remember that Lacey is a douchebag asshole bent on making Joe look like a total fool before, say, chopping off all his signature hair.

Joe sighs.

Ballato, their normal replacement for whenever Pete flakes out on them and disappears, drops into the chair next to him and props her chin on one palm, fingers tapping her cheek. She arches an eyebrow.

Joe says, “I know.”

She grins. “It sort of suites you.” She reaches out and rubs at his jaw. “At least you still have your scruff.”

Ashlee bounces up on the stage and says, “Guys, guys, I saw the most amazing band last night. The keytar, it’s totally coming back!”

“Was it ever here?” Andy says through a yawn, headset around his neck, leaning into the edge of the table tiredly. “Also,” he points at Joe, “ha.”

“Five minutes, guys,” Jon says. He knocks his knuckles into the tabletop. “Good show.”

Patrick hustles up with Ryan trailing after him, holding about twenty hats, switching them out one after the other and tossing them over his shoulder as each one is rejected in turn. Finally, Ryan settles on a black and white checkered newsboy cap, and Greta tucks Patrick’s bangs up under it as he drops into his seat between Ashlee and Brendon.

“Sorry, sorry,” Patrick huffs. He waves some papers around. “Fucking tone-deaf Frog got signed to Reprise, what the fuck.”

“Twenty seconds,” Jon says, a disembodied voice. The lights are hot and bright, and Joe can’t see anything beyond the teleprompter. Johnson, standing beside it, counts them in from five, the three, two, one just silent ticks of his fingers.

“Welcome to The Morning After,” Ashlee says into the camera. “Today, an epic battle between Joe and Patrick over how cool the keytar is—”

“That’s not in my notes,” Patrick says. He shuffles his papers, brow creased in a way that’s probably giving Greta spasms.

“Ash, the keytar is not cool,” Joe says.

“Well, hang on,” Patrick says, tugging on the brim of his hat, still frowning, and Brendon does his tell-me-more hands and Joe just relaxes into his seat, forgets about his fucking hair, because he’s got the best damn job on the planet.


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