apiphile: (poetry)
[personal profile] apiphile
I am OVERCAFFEINATED and FULL OF SUGAR and FULL OF OPINIONS and READY TO FIGHT but instead of slagging off an acquaintance which is what I've been doing ALL AFTERNOON I am going to TELL YOU ABOUT ALL THE FOOD I'VE EATEN, and try to lay off also complaining about how frustrating it is to go out to DO a thing with someone and then have them decide they don't want to do the thing you specifically invited them to and then... somehow... force you not to do it either?

ANYWAY, FOOD.

Today was GET FUCKED day. So I had:

A falafel wrap (nice) and a protein bar (vile, but it's gone now)

Jess and I argued our way to Trafalgar Square (mostly about the route, which is refreshing, and also I just gave up and went to sleep on her for a bit, which prevents arguments) to have a look at Matsuri. It was mostly take away stands, a bit rubbish, but there was a martial arts demonstration I couldn't look at because there were too many people and Jess wanted to go NOW NOW NOW and get some coffee; I managed to talk her into letting me at least glimpse all the stands from a distance.

Pumpkin Spice Latte. For possibly the first time, my name spelt correctly: https://www.instagram.com/p/BZbboa1hflg/?taken-by=derekdesanges

Jess: I want food. No, not Starbucks food. I want to go to Five Guys. Okay, you can go to Minamoto if you're worried about it closing before we get there.

I bought this: https://www.instagram.com/p/BZb4Y6rBoi4/?taken-by=derekdesanges

Jess: I don't want to go back to the square.

... Okay so the thing I invited her to, we did not get to go to. I wanted to watch the parasol dances. But no. So we go to Five Guys in Leicester Square. I have Cajun fries (so many why so many why is their small portion so big) and Jess complains angrily when I have some of her milkshake for the spices but then can't finish her fries because she's too full and she talks the whole time about her manager's lack of communication causing people to keep quitting her workplace but won't raise it with her manager's manager even though it's actively damaging the company and her own mental health...

We go to kill some time because Lindsay required over two hours to get out of bed, eat breakfast, and take a train, an operation which takes me 1 hr when, like Lindsay, one does not shower because one is a DIRTY BASTARD. Look in the travel bookshop. Fantasise about sleeping in a hammock (I hate beds. I enjoyed having a hammock. Nowhere I have lived since leaving home has made it possible to use the one I have). On to Muji; Jess waxes lyrical about new duvets and threatens to throw out my feather one. "It's gross and I hate feathers." Fantasise about having my own house.

Neal Street. There is a tiny blue pitbull puppy who gets two feet down the street and is petted by about six people at every step. https://www.instagram.com/p/BZbqqlVhSxX/?taken-by=derekdesanges cupcake, Tea House (Jess shoves me out of the door as soon as she's bought a hand fan; I'm trying to explain my idea that different people will overcome different levels of obstacle for different rewards - Liza and Susanne will talk to strangers in order to pet dogs. I would rather forgo the dog petting but will happily maim or humiliate myself for food or money. I'm also trying to smell the teas). Urban Outfitters: Jess picks up the single most hideous garment I've ever seen and I casually insist I'll leave her if she so much as tries it on.

Hotel Chocolat on Monmouth Street are giving out free samples of 70% cocoa hot chocolate. It is incredible. I talk to the sales rep about cocoa beans (they're from Ghana), plantation sourcing (I'm bizarrely educated about cocoa yields atm thanks to work) and payment structures for plantations. Jess grows impatient and angry.

Halfway down Earl Street stricken with sudden and abrupt depression. Go into EasyCoffee to see if their coffee is as bad as I assume it is. It is not. It is also cheaper than everywhere else and has probably the best value loyalty card I've seen. Sadly, only two branches in London.

Deposit Jess at the station after an argument about what "good sense of direction" means. J: Are we near a station. D: You've lived here for four years. J: I know where we are I just don't know if it's near a station. D: Why are you so bad at this. J: I actually have a very good sense of direction. (We were at Seven Dials. Near approximately three fucking stations. We passed one to get there. I also didn't specify "Good sense of direction"; "being totally fucking unobservant" would also do).

Meandered through Chinatown (packed) and restricted myself by some miracle to one packet of dried mushrooms at New Moon Loon despite being obsessed with the white ear fungus and dried figs and dried roses - was already alarmed by how much money I've spent (mostly, tbf, on travel), so reigned it in to what i could definitely afford in cash. Lurked to meet Lindsay.

Lindsay was fucking zombified. Couldn't understand how to place an order at Bun House. Couldn't remember two words strung together. A small fight in front of the bewildered cashier. Then, finally:

https://www.instagram.com/p/BZbvUUbhmte/?taken-by=derekdesanges

the best Custard Bun (liu sha bao) I have ever had in my life. According to the board it is made with salted duck egg, coconut milk, and carrot. It costs £2.50 and I would eat them every day.

Downstairs was a nice tea house/restaurant bit (I want to go back and not just for the lava bun although... yeah) with a cool thing in the bathroom - the sink was a massive urn with a drain in the bottom, and a tap suspended above. Probably big enough to get into and squat-bathe. I immediately want one in my hypothetical future house that I share with no one, when i finally win the lottery that I don't play.

It's now raining. We walk to Bobajam, arguing over whether Club Slut & Tenebrae (Goth clubs we went to in the early early noughties) were on Meard Street or not. Ascertain that they were; slowly try to figure out what to have at Bobajam. My order (matcha crepe millefeille) is out of stock, so I go with something else. Having forgotten what MASSIVE portions they do:

https://www.instagram.com/p/BZbysAshQtj/?taken-by=derekdesanges

(multi-image set, hit arrows to see all three pics).

Also the best brownie I've had in possibly ever. A good night for desserts.

(Also so far this evening at work I ate approximately all the free pizza while the entire shift sat and asked if we'd been spiked and Elmo - yes, the muppet - did an interview on BBC Asia. Why. What for.)

Emma and I have been hashing out a story skeleton. I have plans for a birthday fic for Rose. I shat out a few more words on Liza's story. This is Progress and I don't need to physically assault myself for not having time to do research. Tomorrow: emails, which is going to take about eight hours because there are so many.

Emma: Do u find non fiction or fiction easier to read?
Derek: I don't read much fiction because I suffer from intense "you should be doing research" guilt but when I let myself read fiction I tend to be weird about it because I'm anxious that if I finish it I won't find anything else I like?
Derek: So non-fiction usually
Derek: but not necessarily because I enjoy it more

Gotta work on that... whole... not doing things because I feel I "should" thing. But my house is a disaster zone, and I have to maintain a relationship with my partners somehow which involves inviting them out to things even when they're fucking horrible at least 80% of the time we're out. Oink.

(I have been photographing the sky at dawn a lot on Instagram)
kat_lair: (GEN: castle with ghosts)
[personal profile] kat_lair
***

Title: that which remains
Author: MistressKat / [personal profile] kat_lair 
Fandom: Being Human
Characters: Annie, George, Mitchell (OT3 if you want)
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 326
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing

Summary: The vampires don’t win.

Author notes: Written for randomly selected fandom and prompt (post apocalypse)

that which remains )

***

apiphile: (maurice)
[personal profile] apiphile
A GOOD THING: I tried the thing the internet suggested where you ask for an Americano with pumpkin spice syrup and then you get the joy a PSL without having to forfeit any other food that day. It worked.

A BAD THING: I think my expensive leggings went missing in the post.

A GOOD THING: That https://www.instagram.com/p/BZZDtXkhkjC/?taken-by=derekdesanges rockpool salad was straight up fucking incredible and jellyfish are not a scary food

A BAD THING: I cannot stop googling rent-on-your-own prices and I literally cannot afford to live, on my wage, even within commuting distance of my job, from outside of London, even WITHOUT FACTORING IN the additional cost of travel.

A GOOD THING: Obsessive Googling has led me to work out a cycle route to work that won't involve too much uphill on the way home (assuming I can actually get my bike down, which won't be until the builders have fucked off) and am not too petrified by London traffic on the way in. I can indeed use the remaining time to get myself in shape on the spinner to be able to handle 32km in one day.

A BAD THING: I am a fucking human scream made of directionless anxiety. WHY WON'T IT STOP. WHY WON'T IT STOP. WHAT IS THE PROBLEM.
kat_lair: (GEN: castle with ghosts)
[personal profile] kat_lair
***

Title: The TARDIS Prison Experiment
Author: MistressKat / [personal profile] kat_lair 
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Doctor/Master ish
Rating: PG
Word count: 244
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing

Summary:
Losing the game doesn’t mean you stop playing.

Author notes: Written for randomly selected fandom and prompt (prison fic)

The TARDIS Prison Experiment )

***



(no subject)

Sep. 23rd, 2017 01:56 am
apiphile: (not enough fart jokes)
[personal profile] apiphile
HOORAY I just fucking logicked and maths'd myself into "and that's why you should just go kill yourself".

my life isn't all coffee and witches

Sep. 22nd, 2017 08:59 pm
apiphile: (henry scott tuke)
[personal profile] apiphile
In "I'm not having a very good day" news:

1. Bad sleep thank you the builders for literally just drilling by my head all morning
2. Weigh-in day went badly in that I've managed to fucking gain back over a kilo in a week despite adhering to diet and doing the monster cardio so I FEEL JUST *GREAT* ABOUT MYSELF THANKS
3. Split lips
4. Despite good weather & breakfast even post-warm-up my workout faltered on the crosstrainer, my legs just would not DO what I wanted from them. I doubt this was much improved by being thoroughly dispirited by weigh-in. Noped out and went off to do yoga.
5. Doing maths in my head regarding budget and even if I curb the tendency to spend on frivolous crap I would not be able to afford to eat and travel every day without Linds paying me back stuff at the end of the month, which considering how little I pay him in rent is thoroughly fucking humiliating. Not really sure where to economise beyond "take busses all the time" and "savers range food and never mind how badly it fucks up your diet". Oh and of course everyone's favourites, "no more fancy coffees" and "stop going out anywhere", because you know, the £1.50 I spend on lime & soda is the problem.
6. Fatigue
7. Anyway I managed to get out of the house but due to aforementioned issues about money didn't treat myself to the paltry Costa Americano or anything else, just got a free Waitrose coffee and tried to avoid making eye contact with people on the train and failed. (A small plus: my hideous pink running shorts came. They exactly match the writing on the Dream Daddy crop. I am ready to ruin people's eyeballs with this outfit as soon as I can go somewhere in it).
8. Arrived at work: immediately had someone on one social media feeding me the "London is a terrible concrete hell and my rent is much cheaper" line (I'm sure it is, much as the rent in prison is notoriously cheap, but I CANNOT GO ANYWHERE IN THE COUNTRYSIDE AND I NEED CONSTANT STIMULATION OR I GO MAD); someone on another social media decided my advice to a friend was for her and huffed at me about it, then about eighty people on Tumblr put my back up.
9. Small bonus: managed to write more garbage for Liza. Learned that the World's End pub in Camden used to be the Old Mother Red Cap, named after the excellent Mother Damnable, Jinney Bingham, a wonderfully cursed woman who was immediately dubbed a witch and a murderer.
10. "SEMEN is thought to have been pumped into a soap dispensary in Detroit airport and used by passengers."

I'm... clearly not having the worst of all possible days since no one has decided to jizz in the soap.
kat_lair: (SGA - typical)
[personal profile] kat_lair
***

Title: The Green-Eyed Experimental Variable
Author: MistressKat / [personal profile] kat_lair 
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: Radek/Rodney
Rating: PG
Word count: 741
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing

Summary: Radek tests a hypothesis with most gratifying results.

Author notes: Written for randomly selected fandom and prompt (unexpected jealousy leads to revelation of feelings)

The Green-Eyed Experimental Variable )

***

apiphile: (maurice)
[personal profile] apiphile
who i wish i was:

reads in cafes for FUN instead of desperately trying to shovel research material into his easily-distracted face; experiences emotions about movies then doesn't immediately get angry about having them; goes to classes & talks a lot and gets to meet new people and do cool stuff; goes to more parties and clubs; is good at making new friends; does not centre his entire life around writing one book a year and his calorie intake; is better-dressed; eats whatever the fuck he wants; learns and retains new skills

who i am:

broke; punishingly shy & filled with self-loathing; entire self-worth hinges on fuckability (none) and overachieving volume of writing & quality of writing despite managing neither; fat & obsessed with that fact; incapable of going to any social event alone unless very very primed for that already; gets stuck in ruts all the time; refuses to add people on fb or other social media after meeting them at parties even when they ask me like 90 times and even fucking give me business cards with their fb profile on pointedly because they "really liked hanging out" like oh you fucking idiot i am a neurotic bag of screams and i never shut up; never sleeps properly; resents everything; eating disorder

Tumblr tags:

#this post brought to you today by not being able to sign up to a bookbinding class#because it was too expensive#i s2g when i actually manage to go to classes i enjoy them?#i do... have a very bad habit of trying to avoid people i've met via social situations#even if i really like them#i just feel like a fraaaauuuuuud and they'll FIND ME OUT#and realise that i'm both boring and COMPLETELY INSANE

(no subject)

Sep. 21st, 2017 09:19 pm
apiphile: (did it on purpose)
[personal profile] apiphile
Working through something creative - I don't care how pretentious this sounds - and reached the conclusion that actually despite the obnoxiously loud voices suggesting otherwise, it isn't actually MY JOB to push myself to create stories that I resent making & feel forced into. There are definitely social issues and experiences I want to explore which lie outside of my own immediate sphere but there are also limitations on how far I should bend to satisfy - there are always other writers writing who you can and should support if they're giving you what you want - and one thing I primarily know, having explored it very thoroughly both recently (Soft Inheritance) and longer ago (The Other Daughter, Tame, ASAH) with a number of stories is that with a couple of exceptions (The Grandmother Virus and the weird science body swap story) I don't want to or feel happy with writing female protagonists as the main voice of a novel any more. It's not my story & it's close to one that feels like entrapment for me.

I know a lot of cis women readers want to see themselves in fiction in a widely expanded variety of roles & stories and I wholeheartedly support it (and read it), I'm just not the person to provide it. I'm here to write damaged boys, some of whom are gonna be trans, some Gods, some disabled, some not the same race as my pasty white ass - but they're probably going to be boys.

---

Did an exercise. https://www.instagram.com/p/BZTz4TZhO-r/?taken-by=derekdesanges - caption involves a remark about calorie information so if you want to avoid specific numbers don't click

{I'm exhausted and want this week to be over, and I want to have the time to write stupid fic and also to actually do more work for the book and I want to stop fucking things up and I want to, especially, settle on one fucking consistent and pleasantly warm body temperature and have my GARBAGE CORPSE stick to it instead of either sweating or shivering, also fuck chest pains and especially fuck being dizzy and confused so much of the time).

Icon appropriate for once

Sep. 21st, 2017 12:53 am
apiphile: (the trick)
[personal profile] apiphile
Y'know just in case people think I go into the gym or into NaNo with a spring in my step and joy in my heart: I am as filled with hate as everyone else for grinding away at things that are difficult, and there is no point in asking me what my "tactic" is, my tactic is just bullying and refusing to let myself go anywhere until I've done the thing I have said I'm doing. Effectively I use the "tactic" my mother used on me as a child, minus the bugs and the physical pain.

It's kind of depressing to see it touted as "self-discipline" or "self-control". I hold myself prisoner because I don't know how to motivate myself with positivity. I don't think there's anything particularly heartening about that.

(no subject)

Sep. 20th, 2017 10:37 pm
apiphile: (a story where you go eat a dick)
[personal profile] apiphile
I will spare you the amount of my day that was eaten up by thoughts about either working out or gay airmen.

This recent PewdiePie thing (Google it if you're not already fucking aware) made me think a long time about what my own knee-jerk insults in the heat of anger reveal about me; certainly I've never resorted to racism even in the confines of my own head and I feel like it's mainly because it was so alien when I was forming myself; my own insecurities are the foundation of my worst automatic rage-insults & they're not especially surprising: stupid, fat, lazy, pointless - things which demonstrate unloveability which is wholly self-inflicted due to delusion or lack of effort. I think it's probably a common fear.

(no subject)

Sep. 20th, 2017 12:46 am
apiphile: (quite enjoying this)
[personal profile] apiphile
Also minor health concern, outside of the recurring chest tightness; non-stop bleeding from various mucus membranes.
apiphile: tom hardy as billy prior (ha bloody fucking ha)
[personal profile] apiphile
No progress on anything today! No time!

1. The squishy silicon earplugs worked a fucking TREAT and even blocked out HELL PARTNERS horrible snoring, I may just wear them all the time forever apart from the bit where they make the insides of my ears bloody wet. Anyway, I overslept by an hour so there was NO TIME FOR ANYTHING.
2. Gym was fine. Solution to energy problems apparently: put banana in your breakfast, hate everyone at the gym.
3. Found my damned RippedKit delivery shoved in the plastic bag the builders are using for post, meaning that no one can find post. But I have it now. https://www.instagram.com/p/BZO5bUch4aw/?taken-by=derekdesanges
4. Made HELLA mushroom soup. Need more mushrooms. Need time to go buy more mushrooms in. MUSHROOMS.
5. Tried to acquire more layers so I don't FREEZE tomorrow morning like I did this morning. Also this time: no eating mould.
6. Arrived to work to find HR have apologised over the gym subsidy (YES GET FUCKED); but by way of bad news I've just had a tonne of money docked for a fucking dumb mistake so I'm definitely net down and this: https://ko-fi.com/derekdesanges remains pertinent. Also being nice about my books on social media with links in the hopes that your friends buy them >:(
7. Boss: Do you want your name changed on the email system
Email system: YOU CAN'T ACCESS THE SERVICE DESK LOSER
Boss: ... Do you want me to service desk your service desk issues then
8. I should keep a record of which images make me say "I want to go home" internally
9. Speaking of which, I dreamed I'd moved to a different part of London where the branding was yellow and red. I liked it, but kept missing the dark green council stuff of my Borough. I feel more at home in Haringey than I have anywhere else which is somehow appropriate given that it's both highly intellectual and also a fucking stabby drug-addled dump.
10. Would do a murder for either warm walnut bread or rosemary ciabatta and balsamic vinegar round about now but alas, it is only week four of cutting/cardio. Two more weeks to go.

PS: Since neither of my partners will PUT COVERS ON THE BED or CLOSE A FUCKING WINDOW EVER I guess I sleep in all my clothes now

Fail from start to finish

Sep. 18th, 2017 08:50 pm
apiphile: (not enough fart jokes)
[personal profile] apiphile
"I will go to the gym."
The weather: foul
The builders: present
The energy: low despite caffeine (I think food is the answer, sigh)
"I will go to the gym in a bit."
The bed: comfortable
"I have got up and put on a t-shirt in preparation for going to the gym."
Legs: like lead
Enthusiasm: Gone
Bed: Calling.

Anyway what happened was it took me until about eleven to even force myself to go to the shop and buy vegetables, never mind any mythical "gym", and as predicted the builders insisted on interrogating me on suitcases (not ours), or as close to "interrogation" as you can get when two people speaking know literally ONE WORD of each other's languages and that word is "sorry" and neither of you are really feeling that.

Once out of the house I was too cold and too tired despite the sunshine to tackle a mere walk through the park; got the bus to Crouch End, bought loose vegetables, etc, etc, etc. Nothing of great interest. Came home again with EAR PLUGS as the builders are literally working on the wall right by my bedroom the week we're on nights. OF COURSE.

Achievement: edited and submitted the merman story to the anthology about water stuff.
Failure: couldn't even fucking nap because by the time the builders pissed off and stopped being loud Lindsay came back and snored at me.
Neutral: Finally got to read some more of my Yashim book as my brain was too reminiscent of soup to cope with research.

Oh, also the pub called me and I have a provisional booking pending me giving them a £50 deposit when they ask for it by the end of the month. So that's me birthday venue sorted.

Successfully puked up another scene on the interminably long fic I'm basically writing for Liza and Liza alone (she has strep throat now, so I suppose it constitutes a get-well present). Tragically had to miss out on going to the Kingsman II Premiere as offered by R because FUCKING WORK. But at least there's free bananas.

The Current Nonsense

I am amassing a list of pointless shit I want to own ahead of m'birthday
apiphile: (i hate that thing you love)
[personal profile] apiphile
Please feel free to overlay every description of the weekend with "Jess and Derek fought like cat and dog including when people were there, pretty much, although having people there helped them to rein it in a bit, and the cause of this was mostly Jess being UNREMITTINGLY PEDANTIC AND LITERALLY INCAPABLE OF A) HEARING ANYTHING OR B) STOPPING TALKING ONCE SHE'D STARTED WHICH WOULD HAVE BEEN FINE BUT ALL SHE DOES IS REPEAT THE SAME THING SIX HUNDRED TIMES", it saves me mentioning it any more.

SATURDAY: Knee was feeling well enough for me to do Big Cardio which is just as well as I couldn't find the battle ropes and wasn't about to go ask someone to take them out. Horrible horrible rush trying to get ready in decent time and deal with Jess's nine thousand pointless already-answered questions and refusal to be even slightly helpful about checking stuff while I literally had my hands full trying to do ten other things; Monzo card finally arrived and was christened. It is neon orange.

Got on train to Brighton eventually, looking like this, because Wedding Reception: https://www.instagram.com/p/BZGhr4Rh6k-/?taken-by=derekdesanges

It rained approximately eighty times while we were on the way down there; we had a look in some shops in the Lanes but not to any great effect (some cool things but nothing I was comfortable lugging to a fucking wedding reception/that would fit in a bag), I did buy a lapel pin that reads "It Will End In Tears" which is damningly accurate. We met up with Muffy, who was looking like this: https://www.instagram.com/p/BZG4w1lhw5B/?taken-by=derekdesanges only like, over six feet tall and armed with a cane because she is MAJESTIC. Muffy and I poked around Snoopers Attic & Snoopers Paradise in the occasional but infrequent company of Jess; we found a Chelsea Pensioner's coat (Jess: I don't like it, it's too big for you and the shoulders are puffy), a feather ruff (Stranger: THAT LOOKS AMAZING WITH YOUR HAIR; - this was yelled from the opposite end of the shop. She did not work there); a gold brocade coat (Derek: I'm wearing this to get married in; Jess: not to me you're not; Derek: Well, you got that right); and multiple old photos and slides and vaguely carnage-y antique/vintage items. Also EXODUS tins.

During this I started suffering from waves of dizziness, despair, and nausea, correctly determined that I was hungry, flagged down Jess for some food from my bag and was eventually ready to go again, at which point Jess, who never bothers to bring food with her anywhere, decided that we were going for dinner and that everyone could piss off - I talked her into going to a tiny Japanese place in the Lanes (very cheap also) so that Muffy would come as well (it was about 4.30pm, not dinner time, too early for anything including the reception and far too early for me to be left alone with Jess for more hours of her sniping and complaining at me about everything); I was coaxed/manipulated into eating bits of the dinner, ruining diet part one. We crawled away to a Costa.

(Chris posted a mug on their instagram SO GOOD that I had to show the barista as well: "NOT SORRY ABOUT YOUR FRAGILE MASCULINITY").

While we were there the entire sky fell and practically ate the street. Muffy pointed out that this had happened the last time I came to Brighton as well. "I'm not saying it's your fault, but I'm not not saying it either."

We ventured out eventually. Muffy headed for the bus; I had dinner: https://www.instagram.com/p/BZHASxRB6-0/?taken-by=derekdesanges ; we crawled slowly off to find the wedding venue, still being early; found it, walked on past down to the cold-ass seafront. Had some mussels/oysters etc. (Jess: I'll buy you an oyster; Derek: I don't like oysters: a short argument then commences???? about whether or not I don't like oysters???? BECAUSE APPARENTLY I WOULDN'T KNOW?). We walked to the pier, slightly more peacefully.

When I say the weather had no idea what it was doing I mean it: https://www.instagram.com/p/BZHJZzZhS8n/?taken-by=derekdesanges

We snuck into the wedding reception while the Best Maid was making her lengthy, rambling, cat-video-featuring speech. Found the brides, hugged the brides, sent Jess off to the bar to spend both drink tokens on prosecco for herself, spent a while eating h'ors d'oeuvres and thoroughly wrecking entire diet plan (some of them were nicely-conceived - tiny wraps of "fish" and chips with mushy pea dip was cute) while Jess repeatedly told me to stop eating; watched the cake being cut, watched a couple of the dances, snuck off home. I feel in a way that, had I gone alone as I'd initially planned to and chickened out of doing, I might have had a decent enough time and been introduced to people, definitely stayed long enough to nip over to Muffy's DJ set, or gone to Duckie on getting back to London.

However, what's done is done. I had an amaretto hot chocolate when we got back to Victoria, binged when I got back to the house (this did at least get me through some stuff I'd been trying to get rid of) and passed out.

SUNDAY: With full intention of making up for this failure, I threw serious caffeine in my face and went to town on cardio today. This worked out - I could have gone on and done some gentle running again as I did yesterday but time was running out and I have to fucking foam roller after exercise now because it stops my shittening thigh muscles pulling my knee out of alignment or something. So there was another rushed morning of preparation (I AM SICK OF THIS) and fighting with Jess (ALSO OF THIS) as a result of which I left yogurt on the side all day.

However we DID get to the station in time for coffee which is more than can be said for Fiona, who was befucked by my West Country Transport Woes again and only just managed to arrive before the start of the play by forgoing a bathroom break or any food. We fed her the remaining half of Jess's stroopwaffel and promised the existence of an interval.

This was all a bit pointless tbh as the play was ARSE. Jess was MOVED by the first act and I don't really want to get into this much but: don't try to write in Ye Olde English if you can't do it consistently within the same SPEECH AT LEAST and if you don't know how the fucking language WORKS; ration your fucking monologues; if you're going to make allusions to a current situation A) consider carefully if they're appropriate in the narrative you have created B) don't be self-indulgent with music C) don't do cheap emotional stings D) literally don't be mawkish E) learn to fucking pace your plot properly with scenes in a sensible order and when the story should end F) YOU'RE NOT SHAKESPEARE G) please stop boring me with your costume choices and actually commit to either full aesthetic or the full non-aesthetic instead of this garbagey 6th form piecemeal nonsense (however thanks for inspiring me to reconsider "not buying brass vambraces") H) Okay the Very Big Man playing the beserker was Hot and did a good job with his role I) Did I mention that you're not Shakespeare but apparently think that you are in a number of ways? BAD. Oh, and J) If you're acting with hairline mics because your actors can't project properly, please get them USED to this so that I don't get deafened during their hugging dialogue, of which there was too much. You're bad at blocking.

God it dragged. I felt guilty too because I was right in the front and I probably looked as bored as I felt, and that's not something the cast needed to deal with as the very vast majority of what I didn't like about that play was not their doing.

[In the queue beforehand I observed, bitterly, that I missed going to things with Doug. I don't want to dwell on that too much, but it used to be a lot of fun, and obviously that never happens any more. And these days there are very few male friends I get to go to things with. And I feel that absence a lot? And I feel like someone is going to come and scream at me for having that emotion, too].

I bullied Fiona and Jess over to Starbucks and had the first REASON FOR THE SEASON:

https://www.instagram.com/p/BZJXz0ShDye/?taken-by=derekdesanges (it turns out that I can squeeze a short skinny PSL into my calorie plan occasionally if not so much into my budget, ouch)

I suggested heading towards London Bridge afterwards (having spotted no less than four members of the cast heading home in various ways past the window) primarily because this was the ONE DAY I didn't bring my sunglasses (I brought my raincoat though, and needed that), and the fuckening sun would have been in my eyes had we gone any direction but east at that point. Jess decided to route-march this for reasons best known to herself; at London Bridge we very nearly had another row simply because LITERALLY NO ONE ELSE WOULD MAKE A DECISION OR ADVANCE AN OPINION ABOUT DOING ANYTHING AND I HAD PROVIDED A NORMAL NUMBER OF OPTIONS (3) AND WAS TIRED OF DOING ALL THE FUCKING THINKING; Jess decided it would be diplomatic to go home, I calmed down and Fiona and I had a nice hour or so in the George.

Now, the George in Southwark was a specific plan because A) it is a National Trust Pub from the 17th century presumably spared the Great Fire because of its position on the South Bank, and therefore Pleasantly Atmospheric and B) I had recently read that Mark Rylance's revived Twelfth Night Mumming/Combat Play company The Lion's Part take their crowd there on Twelfth Night along with the Holly Man in order to wassail and generally continue old traditions and that made it sound like a good idea. I *have* been there a couple of times before. So pleased was I (and confused by being charged 90p for a lime and soda by one bar man then 45p by the other?) that I sent them an enquiry on their website about having my birthday there. I feel like it would be SUITABLY EXTRA.

(If we ain't facebook acquainted and you therefore didn't get the invite and are reading: the party's on the 4th of November. You're invited. I'm going to be 35. I want fucking presents. LOTS of them and good ones. I am a petulant Roman Emperor. I demand ego massage.]

On the whole, I think it was a good thing I didn't exhaust myself on Saturday night but a bad thing that I've not been Out Dancing once this week.
kat_lair: (COMMUNITY - Abed)
[personal profile] kat_lair
***

Title: Magical Healing Dangly Bits
Author: MistressKat / [personal profile] kat_lair 
Fandom: Marvel (Deadpool/X-Men)
Characters: Deadpool/Wade Wilson, Logan
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 431
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing

Summary: Because really, who else is Wade going to ask?

Author notes: Written for randomly selected fandom and prompt (magical healing cock)

Magical Healing Dangly Bits )
***

kat_lair: (GEN: castle with ghosts)
[personal profile] kat_lair
***

Title: Shelter from the Storm
Author: MistressKat / [personal profile] kat_lair 
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy implied
Rating: PG
Word count: 315
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing

Summary: The storm’s just an excuse.

Author notes: Written for randomly selected fandom and prompt (snowed/stormed in)

Shelter from the Storm )
***

apiphile: (quite enjoying this)
[personal profile] apiphile
Knee was no better this morning. Gym therefore did not happen, because I'm not a total idiot; However am a LAZY idiot as what with redying my hair I loafed around until at least noon before going out to do research stuff at the pub (they tolerate me even though I dress like this at one in the afternoon: https://www.instagram.com/p/BZDzE16hr7n/?taken-by=derekdesanges ; https://www.instagram.com/p/BZD6TtUB135/?taken-by=derekdesanges -- i did have a big jumper over the entire ensemble all day admittedly). Because the builders' foreman was there they actually moved the damn ladder this time. Lots of stressful bollocks relating to building work which is very boring to get into --

And unnecessary since REAL DRAMA was occurring on the other side of town, what with shit incendiaries burning a bunch of people on the train possibly just following Susanne's? Not fun. But hey, so far no casualties! A first for terrorist incidents this year. None deaths.

I think my original plan today was "library, Edith's House" but what happened was "pub, Camden" because idk, the devil. Anyway Camden was hellish; not to begin with - to begin with I just went to the Costa by the overground station and did some more research (VIRTUOUS) and headed down into Camden with the full intention of going to the Stables Market cafe and doing more research there; it was raining so I went into Sainsburys a minute, ate cold eggs standing next to a church because my "definitely going to adult sensibly and mindfully" campaign still hasn't quite gotten off the ground yet, did a HARD HATE all the way up Camden high street and kind of just... meandered around a lot. There's a shop that sells RAF uniforms for I think roughly £50 for the whole thing. There's another that sells several items of North African / Berber jewellery I desperately want but have nowhere to wear. I accidentally bought a pair of TINY ORANGE CORDUROY BOOTY SHORTS WITH POCKETS to go with that heinous crop top and let me tell you that paired with the right accessories I look truly noxious. I found a place called Metal Rooster which sells some pretty Nice Soft Drapey stuff I would wear would I still doing the Mori Boy thing. What I did not do, Internet, was go and do research; Jess texted me to tell me the builders were gone so I picked up a coffee and some free cake samples and fucked my way back off home again.

Apparently even with a fucked knee I can still do cardio - Abbi says "battle ropes" (ten minutes of which, and I guarantee I cannot do that, will do me for an acceptable number of calories. I MAY be able to manage rowing although that does involve bending my knee. I CAN do fast small weight arm exercises. Somehow this will have to do).

(I just got a message from the magazine people saying their accountant is in the office on Wednesday and they'll send me the money then so apparently they mean this? Will wait and see. Speaking of money: no sign of the Monzo card. Bit worrying).

quick order one of these t-shirts or other products with this design before this stupid website decides they're a copyright infringement or something.

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