Yay, July. :)

Yes. So this is The Longest Fic Ever for me, weighing in at a whopping 45k. Don't laugh, I feel like I ran a marathon while eating jalapeno peppers, trying to get this thing done and acceptable. I'm usually bored and moved on at 20k. *G* But I have finally achieved a finished and an edited state! Hurrah! And I know that if I do not share it immediately, I will continue to pick at it and never post it and eventually The End Of Time will be upon us, and I will still be saying, "One more paragraph!" So. Yes. I shall share and hope it is enjoyed.

Also, since Waxjism is down and therefore Emmy's site is down and therefore I can't put this on the web, I'm going to break it down into a couple entries, keep it from being too long in any one. Plus, it feels better in parts anyway. To me at least, and I wrote it, so I'm the only one that matters! Muah!

With thanks to Trishafish for providing light edits and everyone else who listened to me whine endlessly. It's done, I'll stop being boring about it and shut up now, I promise. :)

( Acclimate )

Pt 2

Part Two

( Acclimate, Part 2 )

Pt 3

( Acclimate, Part 3 )

I'm all kinds of posty today--

I read like, four stories about the SDBs being transformed into cats today, and all I could think about was one of my favorite Peter S Beagle stories, 'A Dance For Emilia'. Sam and Jacob have been best friends since high school, straight through adulthood and into middle-age, and then Sam dies unexpectedly. Jacob is just about destroyed by it but he goes to Sam's funeral and meets his lover, a younger woman named Emily. Together they clean out his apartment and decide on who has custody of his cat. But they miss him so much, so so much, that it's like they summon him back--and his spirit ends up residing in the body of Millamant, the cat.

Um, I'm bad at summarizing. Trust me, this story's just so touching and good--sigh, Beagle. :)

Anyway, yes. This story has one of the most obsessive-sweet little bits ever in the history of fiction:

"There's no way in this universe that I could be reduced to something so microscopic, so anonymous, that I wouldn't remember you. If they give my atoms a fast shuffle and shake them out on some other planet, there'll one or two madly determined to evolve into something that could carve your name into a tree, or whatever they've got on that damned world."

This section is what I thought of when I was reading Milk and the other stories:

Fondling your best friend's tummy and scratching his vibrating throat for a solid hour at a time may or may not be weirder than responding to his demands for more kibble. I'm still not sure.

and:

Sam didn't laugh--I don't think he could--but a sort of grumbly ripple ran through Millamant's body. "You surprise me. You didn't actually plan to have me come back with fleas and hairballs?"

"Just like old times," I said, and Millamant did the ripple thing again.

Um, anyway, just wanted to share. And kind of make a Beagle rec, which I'd do anyway, but especially today. :)