Feb. 25th, 2017

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Hahaha I figured it was time to deviate from my rock-solid Bedsharing Trope kink! 

This one has hypothermia and dog instead of bedsharing and cats. There are other tropes probably too but I’m not there yet. 

Shameless self-promoting link: The Sled Dog Guy Mystery now with Third Chapter And Moderate Smut since I’m awful at the self-reblog.
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sugarspiceandcursewords replied to your post: ha you can hit the back button and retrieve your…

I love love love all of our RO dudes here. Even Kaytoo, who hasn’t even done anything yet.

Originally this chapter opened with a section from K2′s POV but I decided not to use it, partly because otherwise it’s all tight Bodhi POV and it was probably time for me to try sticking with one, and partly because I didn’t want to give that much insight into Cassian’s day-to-day yet. Which in turn is about equal parts me not being sure what his day-to-day actually looks like and me worrying that it’ll give away the plot I don’t actually really know yet too early, LOL.

Anyway. Most of K2′s POV was about smells and him being an asshole to Cassian’s roommates.

So he was bored, and resentful, and tried to come up with things to entertain himself. He did a lot of flipping of light-switches, opening cabinets and rearranging their contents, collecting loose objects into better arrangements. Some of the guys in the house would play fetch with him, and that was the only time Kaytoo was truly happy, but nobody would do it for as long as he wanted.

(Kaytoo’s favorite was a young man who smelled lonely, who the others mostly seemed to call Javier, who would run around with him and play fetch for hours at a time. Cassian seemed to like Javier, but also sometimes seemed to avoid him, and Kaytoo didn’t really understand it, but then, he didn’t understand much about this place. Cassian never quite spoke in his own voice and sometimes the other men seemed afraid of him.)

(One time when nobody was home except for the two men who always slept in the daytime in the back room, Kaytoo found all the loose socks in the house and put them into Javier’s bed. This was later met with much bafflement all around, and some yelling. Nobody seemed to figure out that it had been Kaytoo, which seemed pretty elementary, but then, humans weren’t generally the brightest. Not only were they scent-blind, their prey drives were nonexistent and most of them couldn’t follow a trajectory for shit.)
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I actually have some Norwegian relatives so I know more about Norwegian than your average American (probably not counting the population of Minnesota in that “average” tbh, I can’t fux with Lake Wobegon) but I did not know what magpies were called despite having seen and photographed and discussed one the last time I was there. I did ask what they’re called, and I’m sure I was given an answer, but– Unfortunately, see, my Norwegian relatives are from Bergen, so they don’t speak cute Movie Norwegian with the great rising and falling tones and nice bright vowels, where you have some kind of fighting chance of knowing what’s going on, but instead a kind of Super Goth Kind Of Angry Slurred Germanish Noise that involves their mouths not really opening much, so I’ve little hope of picking any up. I have tried, but it never went very well. 

(I kid, I love Bergen, I’ve only been twice and it rained a lot both times of course but I quite enjoyed it regardless.)

I feel like I should find my Most Norwegian Photo from the last time I was there, just to round this out. I’m torn between the rain-soaked wedding party, the photo of us all waiting for a ferry at 11:45pm with the sun not down yet (hot-cha! summertime!) or, heck, my cousin’s cousin in her bunad at the wedding we were there for (our mutual cousin) giving me this Look just as her father (left) asked my father (right, gesturing) “So what’s the deal with this Tea Party?”

(It was 2015. I shudder to think what they’d discuss now. Apparently the two of them had spent hours arguing in 1975 when my father’s sister ran off to Norway and married a Norwegian and my dad was the only brother who could make the wedding, so they were delighted to get to resume it on this occasion.)
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I’m staying up super late to go crouch in my basement like a weirdo to do this kinda witchcraft ritual thing and if that don’t make some kind of story I can tell the niblings twenty years from now it’ll be because we’re no longer in a position to tell stories and I tell you what, I miss being able to have a sense of perspective about any dang thing ever. 

I’m so sleepy though.
via http://ift.tt/2mhgsiU:awisekraken replied to your post “I’m staying up super late to go crouch in my basement like a weirdo to…”

MIL is Super Conservative so I can’t do the whole thing but I might be able to work up something harmless-looking with yarn. /does not have levels in witching

I hid in the basement and have left all the bits down there to dispose of tomorrow. I was going to go straight to bed but I have since gotten Catted, and now am be-Chita’d and her head is upside-down in my lap, so I guess I live here now. 
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On the one hand, the USA scares the crap out of me.

On the other, Oscar in Hamlet.

Tickets go on sale on the 30th March apparently so I have a month to decide whether to go or not.

If you’ve never been, NYC is amazing. I mean if you want recs I can give you recs, I lived in the area for several years and have relatives down there, it’s amazing. But I haven’t been there in years so other people probably would have better recs for you– but consider this a blanket endorsement, it’s very cool.

If you’re a UK citizen then by all rational metrics and according to our actual laws, you should be completely fine.

Our Customs and Border Patrol losing their mind and behaving completely illegally, however, is utterly beyond the pale and I can’t really advise you! In the past, being a Nice White Lady has always been fine, although I admit that I’ve been terrified for no good reason every time I’ve had to clear Immigration. (My family has been here since 1620. I just don’t get on super well with authority.) But apparently nothing is ever certain!

I can’t believe I’m saying that. In December I would have rolled my eyes and said sweetie it’s fine. So pardon me while I have a mini-meltdown because apparently we don’t have any norms or rule of law anymore.

The society of the US itself is generally safe and stable and normal. But specifically for travelers, our entire Department of Homeland Security (oh how I howled when that went in, but little did I know how terrible it would wind up being!) is a farcical parade of incredibly dangerous racist nonsense. 
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boxoftheskyking replied to your post “I’m staying up super late to go crouch in my basement like a weirdo to…”

I hope it went well! I just read about it today so I missed the boat

Oh it’s a monthly thing! Every waning crescent moon. There’s a Facebook page here to coordinate it. They used to have a schedule up but there’s so much crap I can’t find it again, but I know they were going by NASA’s charts of the moon phases.

And the June 21 one at Midsummer is supposed to be the big one. I’m ready for the long haul, I’m gonna get me a proper tarot deck and some real orange stubby candles (I made do with a pathetic mostly-burned pale orange tealight I found on the shelf behind my toilet). And maybe I’ll study the underlying principles because it was sort of cathartic and I’ve kind of given up on the religion I was raised in. (Don’t get me wrong, the current Pope is great and all with the soundbites, I appreciate those, but my faith in the institution is pretty thoroughly shook at this point.)



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