Because Jane Austen SAYS SO

oh, fandom. Really, I love you.

Someone just posted fic where one character asked if the others were shagging since they bickered/bantered so much.

Other person : Why would you think that?

Original : Well, in Jane Austen novels, you know who's going to be getting together by who bickers/banters the most.

This? This is entirely logical.

Jane Austen? provided the basis for most romantic stuff. Regularly cited as one of the absolute masters of dialogue. You always know who's going to get together (het couples, anyway) in films by which pair spends their time arguing. So now we can pelt writers who protest there's no subtext with the statement that 'Jane Austen says so'.

and once again, I hate being female

cramps struck after lunch at work. and it'd started off fairly well for a monday. Spent a couple of hours alternately trying to work or spent curled up breathing through my nose. And giving the glare of death to the twat next to me who makes stupid jokes at the best of times. He really, really needs to be brought to the understanding that cramps are immensely painful, and you are in no mood for any sort of joke unless it involves anything with Hugh Grant or Jane Austen in the description. He will be made to understand with a baseball bat. Unfortunately, the most I could do was glare. Eventually boss told me to go home. However, couldn't go home at that point because was at the point where the wave of dizziness was heading my way and standing up would have involved fainting. Eventually was okay enough to leave - at 4:50. Yeah, not exactly impressive.

Staggered back. Found out that nowhere, and I mean *nowhere* stocks hot water bottles. Woolies were sold out. M&S and Boots? nada. Couldn't go trekking to oxford street to John Lewis. Eventually got one in the cheapo household goods shop. Was too knackered and woozy by that point (and cold and wet - it'd been permanent drizzle all the way, the kind brollies don't shelter you very well from) to stagger into Sainsburys in search of chocolate and ice cream. Which I really, really need right now. But still too blegh to haul arse up off sofa.

Ran bath, as you really can't beat over-hot bath for cramps. This was lovely. for ten minutes. Because then yours truly gets bored. Really, really bored. I think I'm the kind of person that those plasma tvs in the bathroom were made for, because baths make me unable to get through more than about ten pages of even my desert island books. (you know, the kind you never, ever get sick of reading) Eventually got out and then remembered why I really hate baths. For some reason the effect of lying about in steam for a prolonged time means that I have to take at least five minutes sitting by the tub with the window open before even attempting to stand otherwise I black out.

Now ensconced in front of Hollyoaks in jammies. ... I need chocolate ice cream.