Bubble Baths and Hot Cocoa Solve Everything

This is a sequel to Hot Cocoa and Bubble Baths Solve Everything.

Click on the picture if you want to see them larger.





























Until Next Time

Oranges Are Not Gun Silencers

So, went and saw Inglorious Basterds with Morgan. Loved the movie.
Anyway, we saw this poster below (minus what I did in the paint program) and we decided we should have had some markers so we could do what I did in the paint program.



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Paul Is MIA

*flails* OMGSRSLYTHISISSRSLYAWESOMELIKWOAH



DEAN
CASTIEL
DEAN IN A PLAN (OMFGSTFU)
JO (NOTSOKEENONHER)
SAM
CASTIEL
CHUCK
DEAN N' CAS
CHUCK THE PROFIT
POUR SALT DOWN SAM'S THROAT BITCHES
CAS N' DEAN
LUCIFER (LUCY)

Until Next Time

"You're Supposed To Eat The Cows."

So, today went to Aldi's with my mom and what did we see?
Kona Coffee.
For a very good price - because after all - it's Aldi's.
And we tried the Kona Coffee because I'd heard it was awesome (ie: Torchwood fanfiction that is Ianto!Centric (for what other ones would I read?) says it's good) and y'know what?
I am in love.
In love with Kona Coffee.
It is amazing.

Until Next Time

I Can Read Upside Down!

Okay, so Jed Whedon isn't exactly Joss Whedon (in fact, they are brothers) but Jed is cool. He writes for Dollhouse and helped write Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along-Blog. Which I love.

Here is something that amused me from him.

The List; Lowest To The Best: RTD, Joss Whedon, Steve Franks, Eric Kripke

On Dateline tonight: Rogue Elbows. Friends or Foe?

I've made a few more Torchwood Icons. Though, they've got spoiliers for Children of Earth aka Season/Series Three. I highly suggest that if you haven't seen it, do not look at these. Even if you want to know the spoilers, I would stay away. I mean, I didn't stay away from the spoilers, but then I HAD to know. So, yeah.

Also, do you guys realize that Myfanway and Janet are dead as well? Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.


Spoiler CoE Icons








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My Elbow Has Wrinkles!

The best bits from the Torchwood book Trace Memory.

Ianto Jones was at his station behind the run-down Tourist Information Centre that served as a front to the clandestine goings-on in Torchwood. His bare feet were on his desk, his tie slumped like a crestfallen snake next to an open pizza box, the top two buttons of his shirt undone.
‘Taking it easy, I see?’ said Jack, stepping out through the security door that led into the Hub itself. ‘Well, at least someone has the right idea. Whatcha doing there, Sport?’
‘”Sport”?’ said Ianto. ‘Not sure I like “Sport” as a term of endearment. “Sexy” is good, if unimaginative. “Pumpkin” is a bit much, but “Sport”? No. You’ll have to think of another one.’
‘OK, Tiger Pants. Watcha doing?’
Ianto laughed.
‘I…’ he said, pausing to swallow a mouthful of pizza, ‘am having a James Bondathon.’
‘A what?’
‘A James Bondathon. I’m watching my favorite James Bond films, in chronological order.’
‘You’re a Bond fan?’
‘Oh yes. He’s the archetypal male fantasy, isn’t he? The man all the women want to have, and all the men want to be.’
‘Are you sure it’s not ht eothe way around?’
Ianto raised an eyebrow and took another bite of his pizza.
‘Hey,’ said Jack. ‘I’m sending everyone home. There’s nothing happening here. The Rift is still giving out minimal readings. Gwen’s going home, Owen’s going home, and I think Tosh is almost done.’
‘The place to ourselves?’
‘Well…’ said Jack, grinning.
‘So long as it’s not going to interrupt my James Bondathon. I’ve only just started watching Goldfinger, and I haven’t even reached the bit where Shirley Eaton gets painted gold yet.

‘Tosh?’
‘Yes, Owen?’
‘Do you ever feel like a character in Scooby Doo?’
Toshiko laughed. They were walking down the steps towards Basement D-4, or rather they were treading very carefully. The lighting in this part of the facility was poor; fluorescent tubes that hadn’t been changed in many years, only some of which still worked. Most of them were grimy or encrusted in cobwebs and dead moths.
‘Sometimes,’ she said. ‘So who would you be?’
‘Oh, Fred, definitely,’ said Owen.
‘Really? I was thinking you remind me more of Shaggy.’
‘Yeah?’ said Owen. ‘Well, you know what they say. Shaggy by name, shaggy by nature.’
‘What about me, then?’ asked toshiko. ‘And if you dare say Velma, I’ll-’

(((This is a flashback to when Ianto was at Canary Wharf with Lisa)))
She was waiting for him near the fountains in Cabot Square.
Lisa.
‘Awight, darlin’?’ she said in her best ‘mockney’ accent. Ianto wondered whether he was blushing. He’d only known her a week, but there was something there, some kind of spark. At least he hoped there was.
‘So what do you do last night?’ she asked. ‘Get up to much?’
‘Nah,’ said Ianto. ‘We started a James Bondathon. At my house. Just a few of the lads round.’
‘A James Bondathon?’
‘Yeah. We’re watching our favourite James Bond films in chronological order. We’re up to Goldfinger.’
“Sounds exciting,’ said Lisa, sarcastically.

Ianto Jones sat down with a hot cup of coffee and kicked off his shoes. It was nearly one o’clock, but he wasn’t tired. Adrenalin did that to him. It was better than caffeine, though he’d rather drink coffee than go through another experience like tonight’s.
Jack had left the Hub without saying a word to him, and soon the others too had called it a night. Now he was alone, but Ianto didn’t mind so much. He’d always thought there was something reassuring, something protective about the Hub, as if it were his own subterranean cocoon, and, though it made him chuckle to think so, he liked having the place to himself. It wasn’t a flashy Docklands apartment, but for now at least it was pretty close to being home.
He hit ‘play’ on the remote control, and seconds later, and without a trace of self-consciousness, said, ‘No, Mr Bond, I expect you to die’, in perfect synchronization with the film.

Until Next Time