Always when one least expects him...
Simpsons-anime mashups (also Futurama and Death Note)

They're by Nina Matsumoto. Someone to check out later...

(...and that means there are at least two reasons I wish I could teleport into this year's Comic-con. I'll just have to enjoy it vicariously through those of you who'll be there...)

[Subject line from Robert Pinsky's Tennis]

My original plans for the day have been curtailed by my left foot (not sure what I did, but I can't put weight on it, which precludes gadding to/from hot chicken festivals and fireworks and the like) and some encroaching deadlines, but I have a pitcher of iced peach tea at the ready and a whole raft of Haru wo Daiteita fics by geri-chan that I'm going to reward myself with as soon as I put some reasonable distance between me and Canis deadlinus chompus.

Not that that's stopped me from obsessively following Wimbledon. Proud of Dementieva for showing up with a serve, and especially proud of Roddick for working so hard to raise his game to finalist level. I do like Muzz (he's Scottish, he's fond of his dog, and his head's screwed on right -- "It's a pathetic attitude to lose one match and let it ruin your year"), but I'm pleased as punch that A-Rod prevailed in four sets, and I'll be happy about either him or Federer winning tomorrow as long as A-Rod brings his A+ game and pushes Federer to earn the darn thing. (Not that Federer won't have earned it otherwise, but I want to see more of him in flight. Match point yesterday against Haas was lovely to behold.)

Also (with apologies to aunty_marion), I have to say that following yesterday's semifinal via livetexts (BBC, Guardian, and Wimby) and scoreboarding (we get neither cable nor NBC at my house -- long story -- and the videostreams I've tried so far send my hard drive into seizures) was highly entertaining. There was one UK member of the TennisWorld forum who periodically burst out with lines from "Scots wha hae," and Stephen Fry let loose on Twitter with "Oh, in the name of cock-mothering arse mustard" mid-match and "Holy suck-pigging BITCH!" upon its conclusion. The Wimbledon Poet has posted A-Rod's iPod War Boast, which may be the first Beowulf-Rick Astley mashup in the history of online poetry.

Speaking of online poetry, I have three new pieces up at Dead Mule: "The Language of Waiting," "Fuel," and "Sonic Crochet Hook."

Title: The Way Things Grow
Author: Mnemonsyne (reposted here with her permission)
Rest of header information in Part One

( Staring at Draco's profile, Neville felt his heart turn over. )

A few days ago, I received a plea from a Crack Broom reader for a copy of this story. Syne has graciously granted me permission to repost it.

Title: The Way Things Grow
Author: Mnemonsyne
Pairings: Neville/Draco (and unrequited Neville/Harry)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 17,429
Beta: the awesome rufus who has been a trooper though multiple word counts as the fic grew. . . and grew. . . and grew. . .
Summary: Neville's life is quiet after the war, and he's content in his greenhouses. Until one day...
Author's Notes: for suntzu_s, as requested by coffee_n_cocoa - this was meant to be a few hundred word gift ficlet for that fun little meme that went around. Obviously my muse had different ideas. Original prompt was Neville/Draco, Fanged Geraniums.

( Neville stared down at his arm and sighed. The Fanged Geranium had taken a real chunk out his right forearm, and there was nothing more awkward than trying to cast healing spells with your left hand. )

Musigneus has written Not About You, which is Ryo/Dee (FAKE, NC-17), and it is AWESOME.

[For those of you newer to Snape/Lupin: Mus is one of THE classic writers of the ship (you don't have to take my word for it -- six other people have rec'd her work on crack_broom; here masterlist is here (including translations in Spanish, Japanese, Chinese, Russian, and Czech). Hie thee to her stories if you are not yet acquainted with them!]

[Today's the rounds of 16: oing down the order of play]

Federer, Mauresmo, Murray
Ivanovic, Verdasco, Roddick
neutral (Vesnina/Dementieva), Hantuchova, Stepanek
Petrovic, both Sela and Djokovic, Ferrero
Haas, Lisicki, neutral(Radwanska/Oudin), Razzano

Off to this morning's reading shift!

Alas, the Elf did not prevail, but golly, does he sound like a sweetie.

And Roddick, Murray, and Mauresmo all won! The last is especially a happy thing. Allez Momo!

(Much to rabbit on about but the to-do list has resumed trying to kill me. Later, loves.)

Lleyton Hewitt, you male chauvinist twerp. Granted, I would have been rooting for Del Potro anyway, but now I really want him to win. I hope he bagels you in three.

Today's BBC text feed. (I don't dare check out any of the video streams, I wouldn't get anything done.)

1158 CDT: Nice to hear/read Kendrick (world rank 76) making a match of it. First set to Murray 7-5.

Date Krumm lost but at least captured first set. Yay for almost-40s!

Fabrice Santoro also representing for the over-35-and-still-in-the-main-draws; took first set and is leading in the second. Someone in the TW forums commented that he's come up with a lot of rabbits-out-of-hats today (his nickname is "the magician").

Current blog shortlist:
HCFoo (Asian blogger; blogroll shows how recently others have updated; Tennis Is Served has similar set-up)
Go To Tennis
All I Need is a Picket Fence
Forty Deuce

Tennis RPS fandom is lovely and literate and full of squee and woobie-pettings. Actual tennis fandom makes HP shipping wars look like a love-in. I can't help peeking into the TW forums and Tennis-X forums now and then, but wow, don't go in without heavy armor. (I haven't even said anything and I come out feeling singed.)

1220 Murray down 4-5 second set... and now it's 5-all. Very impressed by Kendrick.

Ok, off to lunch date and then to do battle with some albatrosses.

Title: It's Okay
Author: bronze_ribbons (mechaieh at Yuletide and Skyehawke)
Rating: G
Disclaimer: My fics are fictional, even when I use the names of real people.
Wordcount: 100 + 100 + 100
Note: Inspired by reports of Roger's 10-second chat with Rafa: "...I asked him how his knee was. He was like, 'it's okay'. So I kind of knew it wasn't great, because he's very honest to me." ...and a fedal-slash comm discussion (locked) about the languages the guys (don't) speak.
Another note: I know, I know, I keep getting ambushed by these bunnies. If I had any sense I'd make myself stay away from Wimbledon coverage, but the sheer amount of snark and woobiedom and headcasery (among the players, the journos, and the fans), it's like 1980s General Hospital, there's all sorts of doom hovering around the horizon and there's no telling what's going to happen next. And that's just in canon...


( Roger fully intends to learn Spanish someday... )

Title: Private Feelings
Pairings: background Roger/Rafa; octopus/Rafa
Rating: It's not really explicit, but there's definitely tentacle sex, y'know?
Disclaimer: Fic is fictional, even when I use the names of real people.
Wordcount: 500 even
Summary: Curiosity doesn't kill Andy Roddick, but...
Note: I blame meretricula. (Quote: "You know what tennis fandom needs? moar tentacles!" I hate my brain.)

( Andy privately wonders if he's going to end up feeling like a third wheel all week )

If nothing else, there's no way I can improve on the actual anecdote about Ken Griffey and Ichiro Suzuki.

Title: Interrobang
Fandom: RPF – Tennis
Rating: PG
Fest: New Year Resolutions 2009 Challenge at Yuletide. For beth666ann, who requested Rafael Nadal/Roger Federer: "Anything, from sex, romance, to friendship--I am a big fan of character development. Also, I'd enjoy an AU if you felt like it."
Disclaimer: My fics are fictional, even when the characters share the same names as real people. No malice intended, no profit expected.
Lagniappe: A kind and generous anon is making a contribution to charity for each NYR fic posted this summer. In response to this story, she or he has made a donation to a public school seeking to purchase tennis rackets and balls for its "Geeks and Games" club.
Summary: Detective Federer likes being the guy with the answers. Detective Nadal likes being a question mark.

( Roger Federer isn't shy about being the top detective in his precinct. )

Dear Brain,

When I tell you we need to table all fic until Bastille Day, that is SO TOTALLY not your cue to go get hijacked by RPS tennis bunnies. OMGWTFTOPSPIN.

Ribbons

P.S. For the love of Bartenieff, stop sulking about how slow you are to learn dance combinations. This isn't grade school PE revisited: you've got better hair and clothes, you're in it for the workout, and it puts your rank-amateur classes into perspective. Yes, your butt and belly look huge in the studio mirrors, and you've got the Arms of Complete Clueless Placement-What-Placement? Flail 90 percent of the time, but you are literally twice as old as most of the students and some of the instructors. Your friends didn't have to tell you you looked hot in the short clingy purple dress last night, and yet they did, so shut up, enjoy that, and do your crunches already. Sheesh.

General update: still woefully swamped. Following the French Open in spite of it. Some natterings on that (and singing matters) at chrysanthemum; more immediate reactions posted on pages 5-7 of the fedal-slash Roland Garros thread (community-locked). And, I committed a bit of fly-by fic...

Title: Preparations
For: okmewriting's plea at nayika's tennis request meme for "something happy"
Rating: PG
Characters: Roger Federer, Mirka Federer, and Rafael Nadal. Threesome if you squint.
Disclaimer: Inspired by real people, but fic is fictional. No malice intended, no profit expected.
Words: 700-ish.

( Mise en place )

Got back to the States less than 36 hours ago, and I've already attended two meetings and spent two hours barreling through my mail (which included some truly lovely cards and birthday gifts -- *loves on you lot, individual thank-you notes coming*). And I've still got a manuscript to lasso under control before the next wave of work hits -- one of these years I will get a handle on getting my obligations sufficiently out of the way before I get on the plane - but considering that said obligations help pay for cute shoes and French manga/bandes dessinees, I can't resent them too much.

I also have a dozen postcards from Aix/Paris I didn't quite manage to mail, what with the post office (or at least the branch I stopped at) being closed for Whitmonday (but the people-watching sure was fun -- so many people out enjoying the sun). Some of my people-watching on Monday also took place just outside of Roland Garros, where (against my usual instincts) I waited in line for an hour for an evening pass -- to no avail. There were at least sixty people ahead of me and a hundred behind me, and I'm guessing maybe twenty of them got in before the officials came out and said the rest of us were out of luck.

I could be grumpier about it, but I'd had fun discreetly ogling some of the other, ah, extremely fit would-be spectators, and the two women in front of me (one of them a very chic and attractive older woman) cheerfully chatted with me about the Southern and Californian cities they'd visited once they realized I could understand both French and English, and there were kids leaving the stadium with giant tennis balls, and I consoled myself on the walk back to the Porte d'Auteuil Metro station by stopping at a garden that featured tons of roses in bloom, assorted plaques engraved with poetry, kids playing badminton and soccer, and dozens of other Parisians napping, necking, reading, and just generally lolling about in the sunshine. Photos later (I don't dare upload or caption them now, because I won't be able to force myself back to work if I start).

I have a longer rant brewing about tennis coverage (and about sports/competition in general) that I will probably redirect into poems or flashfic instead, and maybe my crankiness has to do with the ongoing sleep deficit, but honestly, some of the recent stuff on Federer vs. Nadal, Federer's status in history, etc. has been the stupidest, perspective-out-of-whack misuse of pixels I've seen lately. And the much-linked Slate essay on insane tennis parents -- was it intended as satire? It didn't give off that vibe to me, and thus it makes me want to throw up, or else write twenty drabbles in honor of Roger Federer, who from what I can tell adores his parents (who have lives outside of tennis) and, when asked by a fan as to his "greatest quality," answered "I'm a very happy person."

(Considering how dour and dark I often get -- and how much I generally despise people who insist that happiness is the be-all and end-all of existence -- yes, that Slate article seriously made me angry.)

In a tennis-HP intersection, there's an essay at bleacher report titled "Roger Federer-Gael Monfils: Taking a Leaf from 'Harry Potter.'" It's awfully superficial and I don't agree with it at all, but it was at least an amuse-bouche for thought -- if I were to sort Fed into a house, it would be Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. But that's me and my anti-all-heroes-are-Gryffindor bias for you. Your thoughts (on him or any others)?

In tennis fandom RPS, Roger Rafa Dubai Mallorca actually showed up in the Yuletide story-of-the-day listings last week or the week before, so I couldn't resist rereading it, and it's so lovely. And Louise Lux's Breathe Out (Roger/Rafa, NC-17, 10K) is an amazing story as well -- deft, detailed, and nuanced (those of you who like stories that manage to combine lyricism, romance, and a measure of infidelity-angst, I fancy you might enjoy this).

[P.S. To the Youka Nitta/FAKE peeps -- I'm not deserting you for tennis, honest! I foresee several long weekends later this summer catching up on your comments, fics, and RPs... *glares at heap of real-life tapping its boots* *clings*]

I'd planned to have my snapshots properly organized and captioned before posting about my awesome afternoon with etrangere last Friday, but that's not going to happen before I'm back stateside (reasons include being behind on work, getting ridiculously lost in Reims, and the fact that I'll be looking for a hotel room at the last minute tomorrow because there's a train strike planned and I'm waiting to see if it affects my schlep to Strasbourg). Likewise with catching up on comments - they are very much appreciated, and I'll do my best to get back on track and in touch after I'm home.

In the meantime, here's some interim indecent gloating: I got to meet etrangere! And in addition to being brilliant and friendly and patient, she very good-humoredly led me to an assortment of bookstores offering secondhand manga -- none of which had v. 4-7 of the French edition of FAKE, as it happened, but some other goodies separated me from my Euros nonetheless (including a French edition of X/1999, tome 13 that later set off two sets of metal detectors at Centre Georges Pompidou.

One of the stores (Little Tokyo, I think) had a corner heaped with Totoro swag, which instantly reminded me of geri-chan...as did the characters on the storefront of another shop down the block:

From Europe 2009 - set 10

From Europe 2009 - set 10

(Click images to view the Catbus and Totoros up close!)

Other fannish notes:( thumbnails under the cut )

lore, these are also for you, this time from the lobby of a Smichov hotel:

From europe 2009

From europe 2009

Must now run to catch the bus to rehearsal. More later! <3