(no subject)

Apparently, I get to sit at the next Puddlemere match with Higgs. Who will be wearing a pink dress and waving a "Princess Pissy for President" banner.

Terence and Oliver are scaring me. A lot. But it's a horrified "Oh, god, Marcus is going to kill them! Hee! Pink." kinda scared.

Marcus, on the other hand, is making me turn into a puddle of goo. A rather unbecoming puddle of goo, at that. And this sealed my fate. Awwwww. (Don't kill me, Flint.)

Whoever's playing Snape is doing a fab job. And Percy is truly the EVIL WEASLEY, and I wish Terence and Adrian would both stay the fuck away from him

Oh, look, more wallpapers with lame-ass song lyrics

Yeah, well, be glad it's not Rod Stewart.

800x600 | 1024x768

Question for the Brits in the audience

Would any of you happen to recall whether the summers of 1991, 1992 and/or 1993 were one of those long hot summers I remember from the early nineties?

(no subject)

Biology Geeks! In Wuv! :D

Snippet-y doo da, Snipetty-day ...

Er, yes. Snippet. Will hopefully be the start of my annual "It's summer, it's hot, let's write heaps of unapologetic smut" story. Marcus/Oliver, Marcus/Terence. Tentative title: ( Polar )

( Explanation of the title. )

(no subject)

Right.

I'm going home. On the way home, I'm finishing this Cchapter of The Game, and then I'll start writing this snippet. Yeah, sorry, V, I know I promised the domesticity thing first, but. Terence is eating my brain, here, with the smut and the bruises and the fucking need to write beautiful prose as opposed to dialogue-based and gah.

So, yes. Draw, then Polar, and fuck, do I need to update my bunny list. Oh, and if I manage to wrestle my brain back from the HP zombies muses, I really, really need to write more Shintaid, and hey, you know, it might be a good idea to start working on that thing, you know, the one thing I write that I might actually be able to fucking publish one day. What's it called? Right. Strange Love.

Argh. Too many stories. not enough time. I fucking need a Quick Quotes Quill! (Typo: Squick Quotes Quill. Heh.)<p

(no subject)

Lee? Honey? Maybe you wanna try grovelling a bit more? You know, just making sure you'll get out of this conversation with your lungs on the inside of your chest?

(no subject)

E.w.

(no subject)

Dear self:

They're not real. And you're not Lee. There is no reason to feel guilty.

Dammit.