Six hours until new SPN. My excitement cannot be textually rendered. I've been waiting for this episode for what feels like forever, and I have great hope it will be awesome.
Speaking of SPN, there was fic last night, for Sam's birthday:
trying on my heart just like a crownSupernatural; Sam/Dean; adult; 4,985 words; spoilers through Houses of the Holy to be safe.
It's more than just sex, and possibly that's the part that trips them up the most.
Writing casefile-type things is hard! Now I remember why I don't do it very often. However, there is a rockin' nun, and Dean compares Sam to a sippy cup, which amuses me far more than it probably should.
estrella30 is talking about running an
SPN Harlequin-type challenge, and it's sad, but my first thought was, 'Can Sam be a girl?' She says yes, so I might just have to try that. I mean, I'm already writing sekrit incest baby fic, so it's not like I'm not there already.
Also, my five ways Dean sleeps with his (non-existent) sister story? Has six sections so far. No, really, I do know how to count. I am just not sure the amnesia section is going to work, and I already had the rockstar AU written. Um. By itself it was just context-less AU porn. Now it has purpose. Or context, anyway. Shut up. I know you're laughing at me. All I have to say is, Dean plays bass. You'd be helpless before that, too.
I had other things I was going to post about, but the image of Dean playing bass sort of drove them all out of my mind.
Oh! I know!
Dinosaur Comics for the win, today.
Also, I was really hoping someone would have the version of "Devil Town" used on FNL (it's not Bright Eyes), but so far nothing has panned out. Can any of you guys help?
Oh, and last night, I hooked the iPod up to the laptop to transfer some music, and iTunes crashed. When I reopened it, it tried to sync the iPod. It's not supposed to DO that. Luckily, I don't appear to have lost anything off the iPod (I have nearly 2000 more songs on the iPod than on the laptop), but I was all, "iTunes, WTF?" about it last night.
***
Have a poem:
On Divination by Wind
My Complete Meteorology falls
open to the glossary, where tongue-tied
I've returned to linger on the lavish
particularity of petrichor,
name for the smell of long-dry rocks under rain.
Improbable word!-but libraried up
I swear I can smell it, green and vivid
as nectar, as if it sighed from the book
open across my lap. The chapped soul sighs,
opens to knowing like stomata
to southerlies, runs unbodied beyond
my reading hour, beyond the library,
to the moment I push the door open
and step out into the imminent weather,
the pressure's plummet, the fresh gale
tossing palm trees in slangy hosannas,
all in expectation for the first drops
to release that astonishing perfume
whose name I savor, a canonization
improbable as blood from a stone.
~Kimberly Johnson
***