jheti: Inara from Firefly, by Angiefaith. (teh shadows und teh shards)
[personal profile] jheti
Three years ago, I typed at 62 wpm, vaulting to 90 if I pushed.

I currently barely manage 45wpm. Hurting myself gets me 50, sometimes, when I'm lucky.

(See, the title is literal; go elsewhere for any sort of depth. *Facedesk.*)

She woke up last week. The first thing she did was mock me. When that got boring, she spit at me. She then proceeded to brag about getting laid. Constantly. The last three days, that's all it's been, smug insufferable wiggle with hoarse laughter.

"I got fucked last night. Shame Lupin's hoarding the nicotine."

Shadows!headmuse ftw.

"Oh." I can shape that word into a whorehouse verb, when it suits me.

Check why Telsor's pissed. It's an essential chunk of their group psychology. It ought to come with footnotes. Darwinian Protestantish meritocracy? Not so much so. Personal interest corrupts. Not all personal interest is a euphemism for sex.

It--it bothers me
Somewhat, that they see it as entertainment
When, realistically, it's something that could happen
To any one of them, here
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jheti: Inara from Firefly, by Angiefaith. (Default)
jheti

August 2012

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