Dear Magic Yuletide Writer of Awesome,

First, let me just say how wonderful you are and how excited I am you are writing for me. Yay!

Second, let me apologise for terrifying you with the verbosity and ridiculousness of my prompts. I never know how to write those, and so I just blab on and on over whatever comes to mind regardless of how off-putting and startling it might be to someone who does not share my brain. I assure you that it comes only from a place of EPIC ENTHUSIASM AND LOVE for these fandoms, and as such, you should take it as proof that I will de facto love anything you write for me. Really: anything. Take a deep breath and relax. You are stellar and marvellous and happily have my permission to ignore any of the inconsequential details. The only thing I’d ask you to respect is the warnings section of this letter (second paragraph under the cut).

Now, maybe you are the type of writer who, like me, wants prompts and details and psychological insights in order to finally write The One Story You Never Knew You Wanted to Write (Let Alone Anyone Would Want to Read). You are the clean slate, the open book, the blank page, the ready-and-willing gung-ho kid just waiting for me to pour the desires from the depth of my subconscious right into your brain, where you will swirl it around and mix it up with your subconscious, and produce something New and Strange, But Somehow Awesome. If that is you, no worries! I have your back. Just ( click the cut-link and the Magical Doors to My Id will open! )

But maybe you are not that type of writer! Maybe you are the writer who is already a volcano-cornucopia of ideas, waiting to explode and impress me with your genius! (Don't worry; I am already impressed!) You signed up with some notion of where you would like to go, and what you would like to do, and you just want a few measurements so you can tailor one of your already glorious plans to my liking. Being plunged into the swirling vortex of my subconscious will only confuse and disorient you, and get sticky id gunk all over your clothes besides. That is okay, too! I still have your back. Only please heed the warnings, and I will be yours!

Anything you write I am sure to love. You have already won my heart by offering one of these fandoms. So: don’t stress! Have fun with it. And hit up hobbit_feets if you have any questions or need help tracking down any information; she basically shares my brain.

Fondly,
earlwyn

Stuff goes here.

Dear Magic Yuletide Writer of Awesome,

Hello! You are expecting a letter, and rightly so. And I shall write one for you! [ETA: And here it is!] And it will be full of flail and excitement and far too much information that is likely to terrify and overwhelm you, for which I will apologise in advance now. I am verbose and like a happily wiggly puppy about Yuletide. Whoops.

However, it will probably still take me a few days to write it as, unfortunately, real life > Yuletide at the moment. (I know, I know; what is this madness?) I hope in your stress and excitement and shared flail a few days delay will not be too much bother. You will have a letter by Friday at the latest. So don't stress! If you think something is a good idea, I will love, love, love what you write.

And if you do not have an idea right now, I will give you eight hundred thousand things what I love and if you take one of them and write me something, I will roll all over you in the comment section professing my deep, abiding glee.

If you're still stuck with questions, I may direct you to make any inquiries to hobbit_feets. She shares my brain.

Rules and Guidelines:

I watch 100 movies or more in 2010. Done! (17 september 2010)

I keep track of how many I watch in this post.

I only record first-time movies.

I leave the entry public. If you want to recommend any movies to me, go for it.

( Films seen thus far ): 100!

( Bonus films seen thus far ): 104

Right. And so now I'm going to talk about yuletide. Or, rather, I mean:

RIGHT AND NOW I'M GOING TO TALK ABOUT YULETIDE WHILE RUNNING AROUND LIKE A MAD, EXCITED THING. WHEE! YULETIDE.

That is more apropos.

I adore yuletide, you guys. It plays a huge part in the Proper Holiday Experience for me. Every year round about July, I start to get excite for it, and draft my letter, and sort through fandoms I either want to request or offer. (You'd think six months preparation would mean I don't have a mad freak-out when sign-ups open about what fandoms to put down and how to construct prompts. BUT YOU WOULD BE WRONG. I still freak with the best of them, and panic, and do the tongue-in-corner-of-mouth thing as I weigh Fandom A over Fandom B, and decide whether I most want to request a certain fic idea or write it myself. WHICH WILL BE MORE FUN? WHO KNOWS. BOTH, is often the answer.)

That amount of love and excitement probably means I'm one of the most awful recipients to write for. Despite all my best intentions to remain level-headed and cool, my expectations still shoot WAY UP when I see I have a story waiting for me. I think it will be the BEST STORY IN THE WORLD. It will be the most GENIUS THING EVER LAID DOWN BY THE HAND OF FANDOM. Which is probably not the sort of pressure even the most confident writer wants placed on their shoulders. It seems like disappointment is inevitably just around the corner. (Hiii, any future yuletide writers who clicked through my yuletide tag. All of the above is a joke. Except for how it's not. I AM SO SORRY, OKAY, I JUST GET REALLY EXCITED LIKE A SMALL PUPPY HAPPY TO SEE YOU WHO THEN PEES ON THE RUG. Go write what you love; then I will love it too and flail at you in capslock.)

But THIS YEAR, you guys, oh man. THIS YEAR. This year that raging, flailing spasm gripped me harder than ever. AND THEN I READ THE STORY AND IT WAS EVEN BETTER THAN I EXPECTED.

The Existing Scheme of Things, a Doctor Who/Worst Journey in the World crossover. OF EPIC AWESOME. It is the most amazing thing ever, no lie. ♥

Now I love Worst Journey in the World. (Hush, those of you in the back saying that smug, "I know you do, Kat." Not everyone knows yet!) I think you should know and love Worst Journey in the World too. If you don't yet, here's your chance! Let the Doctor and Amy introduce you the men who have stolen my heart and consumed my fannish soul for the last five months. The writing is tight, the voices are superb, and it made me cry -- not once! but SEVERAL TIMES. MOSTLY IN GLEE. (It may be stupidly easy to get me to cry over Cherry being tragic but crying over the joy of Cherry and Birdie seeing the universe? Priceless.)

If that is not reason enough for you to check it out (for shame! it should be: what are you waiting for?), I have assembled a handy-dandy picspam for your perusal. ( In case you are like me and need to know what people look like before you can read fic about them )

I ALSO want to recommend another awesome fic, not a part of yuletide, but it was written as a holiday treat for me by the always fabulous shutterbug_12: Accidentally on Purpose. Iron Man fic where Tony is SO ADORABLE OH GOD I LOVE IT. Again, she nails the voices. Do read.

Belated holiday greetings, f'list! I hope you had (and continue to have, if you are holidaying as I still am) a lovely time of it.

IIIII haven't said anything in a really long time. Whoops. (I know you are totally looking at your screen right now, if you didn't just bypass this post entirely, with a puzzled frown of, "Who are you again?" Or you are sitting there in the deep dregs of concentration, sipping your drink, trying to be a good f'lister and remember the last I wrote about in order to place my life in context. Yeah; you can stop wracking your brain. The last thing I wrote about -- ha-ha! four months ago -- is that I was moving to London the next day.)

SO THEN I DID THAT. And yeah! London. Man. What can I say about London? I have been enjoying my time there, minus a few little scraps and bumps indelible to the whole moving-country process. London is good. London, on the whole, is very London-ish. Which pleases me! Does what it says on the tin and all that. (You see, this is why I never update. I honestly have no idea how to sum up the whole experience of moving -- which is HUGE and LIFE CHANGING and BIZARRE for me -- so I either have to tell the whole saga of it or else wind up relying on phrases like, "And so then some stuff happened, and then some more stuff, and then I met Mark Gatiss and made him sign some stuff and talked to him about Worst Journey, and lo, my life was complete. :D")

So it's up to you, f'list! Are you satisfied with that as an account of how I've spent my time the last four months? Or do you want the whole shootin'-match, replete with comments about Mark Gatiss's sexy, sexy in-person wrist bones and my dramatic return to life as a uni student and my epic battles with British electricity and my relationship with my upstairs neighbour developed solely around what I think he must be doing to create the Strange, Strange Noises (and Sometimes Smells) echoing through the ceiling? (By the way, I totally still think there should be a comic about him, entitled The Imaginary Adventures of Upstairs Neighbour, Flat 3.) Vote in the poll! Because polls are fun.


Poll #1661173 London! So!
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 6

Wanna hear some more?

The best pseudo-summation of Life in London I can give right is that: (a) my telly antenna is the most pernickety thing in the universe and frequently requires the cable to be moved in odd angles all over the places, usually ending up held above my head with arms stretched out and slightly to the left, in order to pick up reception; (b) I get told in London, as well as told here, that my accent shifts at ridiculous times, though I can't hear a difference; (c) my favourite part of the day is the forty-minutes I spend riding the tube home from uni because it is the only time I know I get to sit for a reasonable period of quiet and read my book; (d) I have come to fear central London on Saturday afternoons and loathe all tourists. I am now ashamed I ever was one. Sorry, tourists!

BUT ENOUGH ABOUT THAT. Really the point of this post was so I could talk about Yuletide! (Fuck yeah yuletide!) And rec you things! And picspam! But now I'm afraid it's gotten too long, or really, now I'm afraid I've grown bored of writing out actualfax sentences. So I'm-a close here and talk about yuletide later.

Hiii, f'list! Hi! I hope you are well. ♥


---
^*I retain no obligation to follow through on this.
^†Do you follow me on Twitter? 'Cause that's probably why. :|
^‡He is so pretteh~. And tallllll. I have pictures!

Dear Magic Yuletide Writer of Awesome,

First, let me just say how wonderful you are and how excited I am you are writing for me. Yay!

Second, let me apologise for terrifying you with the verbosity and ridiculousness of my prompts. I never know how to write those, and so I just blab on and on over whatever comes to mind regardless of how off-putting and startling it might be to someone who does not share my brain. I assure you that it comes only from a place of EPIC ENTHUSIASM AND LOVE for these fandoms, and as such, you should take it as proof that I will de facto love anything you write for me. Really: anything. Take a deep breath and relax. You are stellar and marvellous and happily have my permission to ignore any of the inconsequential details. The only thing I’d ask you to respect is the warnings section of this letter (second paragraph under the cut).

Now, maybe you are the type of writer who, like me, wants prompts and details and psychological insights in order to finally write The One Story You Never Knew You Wanted to Write (Let Alone Anyone Would Want to Read). You are the clean slate, the open book, the blank page, the ready-and-willing gung-ho kid just waiting for me to pour the desires from the depth of my subconscious right into your brain, where you will swirl it around and mix it up with your subconscious, and produce something New and Strange, But Somehow Awesome. If that is you, no worries! I have your back. Just ( click the cut-link and the Magical Doors to My Id will open! )

But maybe you are not that type of writer! Maybe you are the writer who is already a volcano-cornucopia of ideas, waiting to explode and impress me with your genius! (Don't worry; I am already impressed!) You signed up with some notion of where you would like to go, and what you would like to do, and you just want a few measurements so you can tailor one of your already glorious plans to my liking. Being plunged into the swirling vortex of my subconscious will only confuse and disorient you, and get sticky id gunk all over your clothes besides. That is okay, too! I still have your back. Only please heed the warnings, and I will be yours!

Anything you write I am sure to love. You have already won my heart by offering one of these fandoms. So: don’t stress! Have fun with it. And hit up hobbit_feets if you have any questions or need help tracking down any information; she basically shares my brain.

THANK YOU, DARLING. YOU’RE A STAR. Have a GIF of Martin Freeman with a puppy as my gift to you.



Fondly,
earlwyn

...*squeaks in* Um. Hi.

I know I haven't posted in ages and ages and ages, and you've all forgotten I exist, and have no idea what I've been doing (hint: it involves the moving to and living in London, which I will tell you about. ONE DAY.), but, um. I couldn't resist this meme. So!

THE SORTING HAT MEME

Goddamn, I am fail at updating -- but I have good excuses! I'm preparing to move country tomorrow! It takes up much of my time. (If you find yourself missing my dulcet tones and sainted words, I'd recommend following me on Twitter. I find it easier to find time for 140 character updates, rather than typing with the paragraphs and the context and the sentence structure.)

Right, so:

TOMORROW I MOVE TO LONDON.

I am excite, you guys. I am also a bit terrified, but mostly I am excite. I'm going to be so hella busy for the next, like, week. PROBABLY I WILL POST PICTURES. And bitch about how much my feet hurt. :D

So there is some substance to this post -- apart from me reminding you all that still I live and function, et cetera, and no I have not been eaten by a pack of wild dogs -- I present you with, um. Icons of Mark Gatiss. Ta-da!

1	2	3	4	5
6	7	8	9	10

Have I mentioned that I love Mark Gatiss? Well, I do. Um, a lot. That's probably something of an understatement. I should instead say: I'm obsessively, giddily THRILLED by Mark Gatiss's existence and have happily spent the last two weeks consuming everything he has ever once even looked at, much less written or acted in. That's... probably more honest.

One of things he both wrote AND acted in is a docu-drama entitled Worst Journey in the World. Based on the book of the same name, it covers Scott's expedition to Antarctica as told by Apsley Cherry-Garrard, and the subsequent death of Scott and his polar team. In it, Gatiss plays Cherry, who tries very hard but generally fails, in a cute way. (And looks very cold while doing it, which, as a Minnesotan, I enjoy). And there are penguins! Lee Ingleby, of Stan Shunpike and Vic Tyler fame, is also involved. Together they fight crime! form my new OTP. See? Look! Icons as proof:

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3

4

5

It's a good drama. I highly recommend it to anyone who might be remotely interested in killing an hour of their time. It is ADORABLE, you guys. And TRAGIC. (In fact, when presented with something similarly -- but not equally because it has no equal -- sad, I find myself shouting out "DON'T RISK THE DOGS!" and then doing epic sadface to the confusion and terror of those around me. Unless they are hobbit_feets, who understands these things.) It is the best emoporn in the world. But with penguins. You should know it and like it, fandom!

Hiii, how are you? I miss you guys. ♥

If you care to read it, Twilight live-blogging, ala Twitter: ( So in sum: AHAHAHA his face. )

Pretty much you can guess from the cut-tag what my favourite part was. Seriously, RPattz's face is, like, the best invention ever. It looks like it was made from plastic and some wax with little crushed particles of glass added in order to make it SHINY and light-reflective.

I totally do want that fusion, though.

You guys, I -- I think I have the urge to watch Twilight? Possibly? Just the first film, whatever that’s called. Not the book. The book and its first-person would break me. (Once, about two years ago, I read the first fifteen pages. One of my minions brought the first book in to work for nights that were slow, and I stole it over a smoke break. Usually I read Wodehouse. Yeah. Yeah. I have never been so thankful to finish a cigarette before in my life.) I, I can’t really explain why? I don’t know where this urge comes from.

Maybe I’m just in an emo-porn mood? Where I want the pointless, plot-less masturbating fantasy of cliché teenage-girldom? Like, where you sit next to that perfect specimen of humanity in class and crush on them and adolescently yearn. (Oh god, the yearning.) And they will never notice you, even as you sneak timid glances under the desk at their perfectly-sculpted thigh and how it perfectly connects to their perfectly-rounded knee, all covered in perfect, perfect tight navy blue, all sexy and cool looking, even though your uniform never looks that way and the navy clashes horribly with your zits, even though years later navy will be kind of your colour.

And how, when they ask you to help on the pre-algebra assignment, you get a little breathless with the ability to lean close, and maybe brush your shoulders together, and you think to yourself, "Jesus Christ, Danielle smells good --

Wait. Am I gay? Is this under the definition of gay? Can you be gay at twelve?"

And who you look back on, years later, and think,

"Jesus Christ, that work was so easy. What was wrong with you, you stupid girl, that you could not understand X divided by 5 equals 3. It’s simple division! Why did I even like you? Thank god you never knew."

That. I kind of want to wallow in that. Ah, youth.

(In high school, when I did this again, but after I embraced the concept of bisexuality, I had my friends call him Voldemort. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, you know. In case he overheard us. This was during my obsessive Harry Potter era. Bonus anecdote: I had Remus Lupin [by nasubionna] on the cover of my biology textbook. The Brother who taught that class would pass my desk in the mornings and dubiously tap Remus's face with his spindley Christian Brother fingers. I chose to read that as secret Morse code admission that he was also a fan. THE MORE YOU KNOW.)

So, yeah! Twilight. Think I’m going to get me some of that.