Ink Stains and Empty Teacups

My tendency to discover shiny new fandoms just as coursework deadlines loom has not gone unnoticed, is all.

Downton Abbey is slowly stealing my braincells, why is is not sunday evening 9pm GMT already?

Procrastination instinct, you officially have the worst timing ever.

Srsly.

Also, DADT? STICK THAT I YOUR JUICE BOX AND SUCK IT.

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BECAUSE THIS IS CLEARLY MADE OF WIN AND IS IN NO WAY NOT GOING TO HELP WITH MY MATHS COURSEWORK.

Apparently, horseflies abso-fuckin'-lutely love my blood. This is a very bad, horrible, no good thing.

My arm is like the size of a grapefruit.

My mother has Twittter.


Iamsoveryscrewed.

...You should most definitely not eavesdrop when you stepfather tells your aunt that a glitch in his internet capper means that it won't come into effect at the allotted time if you are still on the internet at the cut-off time. TAKE THAT, B.T.

Also, a question for the flist : When the Clinique lady said the skin sat comfortably on my cheeks, should I have taken it as an insult? Especially when she asked if I used anti-wrinkle cream (I'M IN COLLEGE, FFS)?

Title: Though The Heart Be Still As Loving, (aka The One in Which Chuck and Tam should spend less time evolly enabling each other)
Rating: NC-17, to be on the safe side.
Words: 628 says Microsoft, so caveat lector.
Prompts: Mortar, Song, Bribe and Ritual.
Warning: Born-a-girl genderswap, soldierly language, gore, Fedcakes.
Characters: Donna Eppes/Colby Granger
Summary: Donna Eppes was never what anyone expected.
Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly. Title appropriated from Byron's poem 'So We'll Go No More A'Roving'.
Notes: So, Tam, would this count as a firstborn?

( Mortar. )

 

( Song. )

 

 

( Bribe. )

 

( Ritual. )

HATE YOU ALL. HATE YOU ALL SO MUCH.

May the FAIL be with you.

(Goodbyeeeee coursework!)

Aresenal is playing Barcelona. This is a mistake.

I have just been informed by the oh-so-sage commetators that '(football) is a hard game to play without the ball'.

No shit.

Also, not one of the players on the pitch looks old enought to walk into a bar and legitimately order a beer.

(Haggis for tea. IDK.)

Today has just been one colossal case of opening One's mouth merely to change feet.

I may or may not have mentioned in passing conversation that Dad wants to start up a pension fund for me and my sisters.

This was not a good idea.

Ma went absolutely bugnuts monkeyfuck insane. And is now angsting like a damsel wronged because she now won't be able to get within 20 years of said money.

...Ooops?