*le sigh*

[aesc]

I'm in kind of a weird place right now. Despite having a pretty sane second half of the semester, I've been mortally exhausted all the time; the hormone levels are not right, according to my doctor, and so it's the endocrinologist's for me after Christmas break. Like so much this year, it's good news mixed with the stupid/lame/not good: I'm 99% sure the depression has not returned--it doesn't have the same feel (I'm just chronically so fucking tired)--but that means it's Something Else instead. Lovely. Also, sga_santa is kicking my ass. One day to go and the Writer Demon is poking at me, going, This is weird, it's too crack-like, the person will be publicly "yay!" and privately "seriously, what the hell is this shit?" You might as well start over, and my brain is paralyzed.

On the bright side, tardis80 has been posting the most adorable things lately. NARWHALS. Mer!Rodney! BOYS! Also, countess7 has recorded podfics of apple_pi's Thursday porn and my followup to it, and you can listen to filthy dirty boys here.

And Finn has been climbing in bed with me lately, because thick-coated Canadian dogs can never be cuddled enough. He curls up against my legs, uncomplicated and warm and smelling of fur, and sleeps.

If there is anything happy to say or cute to show, I would love to see it ♥ I will start:



BABY SLOTH

Comments

[beadattitude.livejournal.com]

He wanders into the bathroom to stare at himself in the mirror to see if the crazy is actually visible or if a neon sign proclaiming it has manifested (hey he has a living statue on his sofa) and is flashing above his head. It's not, but he nevertheless snags a t-shirt on his way back to the living room and offers it to John.

"Not cold," John says absently, then stops and shoots Rodney a grateful look. "Thanks, though."

Rodney fixes himself a bowl of Cheerios and eats it, sagging and disconsolate, on the sofa next to John, resigning himself to an evening of staggering beauty, warm and close and watching things - his life and pixelated bad guys - blow up.

[aesc.livejournal.com]

Heeee, John and his refusal of the t-shirt :D

Of course, John would eventually get tired and he'd yawn and stretch and drop the controller, and turn to Rodney with a satisfied look on his face, and Rodney would be all sorts of helpless, watching the lithe stretch of John's muscles.