Apr. 5th, 2011

duckduckthrall: (Default)
I found a great set of writing prompt sites. Now I just need to remember where I bookmarked them, because it sure as hell isn't obvious, and hooo, boy, am I behind on my personal goal of 200 000 words. Probably would have gone crazy trying to get to 350 000.

So, I'm on Twitter again, and already, I've managed to attract attention. Ryan Robbins needs to stick his generalizations, using the word "you," regarding Charlie Sheen, up what I'm sure is a very nice ass. I saw that he later tried to explain the "you" thing, and I was halfway through writing a response about that's why you don't use "you" in the first place, unless you have a literal you (singular or plural) in mind. Otherwise, you kind of paddle up a creek and then lose the paddle in some murky water.

Right, so halfway through writing this response, I realized I didn't want to get into this *again* (fuck you hard, former English teacher and your cronies), and I hardly wanted to attract any kind of wrath from RyRo. Instead, I just unfollowed him, putting a message about how generalization makes me lose respect for people (putting it lightly), listed him and former English teacher and his cronies, implied I could write a fucking dissertation on what the hell is wrong with what they're doing, and left it at that.

Seems I was noticed anyway. Okay, RyRo, I'll always be your angry unfollower, and you can be the actor that I can't *not* find cool for mentioning me, but not mentioning me by name, in case hordes of your fans came and shat on me. Should I run into you on the street, it's high fives all around.

I have a whole 4 followers from before, and they're the ones that don't drive me up the wall, nor have to mention [name redacted] as their BFF every three frigging seconds. It's certainly calmer. Also, the cats are following me. Yes, I tweet as my cats. Why not? It's like... getting your head around a character. The character happens to be one of my pet cats, but why not?

I'm almost ready to go back to LJ (uh, the other one). I figure I should see my psychiatrist first (appointment tomorrow), but emotionally, I'm nearly there. God. I never knew going to a convention would be my whole mental undoing, but there you go. Meet Amanda Tapping, but otherwise go completely insane? Worth it. I think.

I'm puppysitting today. Guggie is behaving so much better than he has over the last few weeks. I mean, there's still the issue with the sticks, but that's okay. We went for a long walk this morning. In the rain. Of course, I look outside and it's sunny now. Ridiculous.

People are working in/around my sister's building again, and I can hear everything, including all the swearing, quite well. At least it's not zombies in the walls this time, or that guy in the elevator with the heist.

Let's see. I'm meeting Ruy after I get off work, to bring him dinner at his work, because he has to work late (the deadlines they impose are absolutely ridiculous).

I need to find time for a nap.

On the weekend, we tried out the cat harness/leash on Pegasus, so she could check out a bit of the outside world. I think it became a little too real for her, so she went and hid under one of the deck chairs. Then she kept going and hiding under my desk, which is unusual for her, because Pegasus is always all IN YOUR FACE. When I took the harness off later, she came and snuggled up on my chest. In most ways, she is still such a kitten. She's forever getting stuck in places that she could probably get out of easily - inside the storage room, on top of the freezer, at the bottom of the stairs... But she'll make these pathetic meowing sounds that mean someone has to go and rescue her. Usually, me. When last I rescued her off the freezer, she stretched her paws up onto my shoulder, and licked my ear. Like a child, she knows how to tell me she wants up, and really, who am I to deny her? I'm still going to be doing this when she's Tessa's age, I just know it.

She and Tessa are getting along better, and mostly they just squabble over the coveted place on the back of the couch, which is traditionally Tessa's. There's much mutual grooming, and Pegasus is nearly through the phase where she has to take flying leaps off of things and onto Tessa and then attempt to ride her around. Nearly.

Pegasus meows like a human child cries. It's uncanny. She can really wail away when she wants something. It's hard to believe that the tiny black kitten I brought home last December is now a long, lanky cat.

Tessa deals with everything admirably. I'm told that while she seeks some comfort from my parents when I'm not there, I'm definitely her human. I'm actually glad that Pegasus is there with her when I'm not there, because I think it makes her feel less lonely, even if Peggles can sometimes be quite the pain in the ass. Still, like her mother, she doesn't like being away from her parents for too long. Gives her the anxieties and such. My poor girl. I wish she could use Skype.

Word Count: 920
Word Count to Date: 38867
duckduckthrall: (Default)
I totally got their ages worked out. It's cool. Also, don't ask me where this total crack!pairing came from. My... brain?

"Tall caramel macchiato," the barista said, placing the drink on the bar. Emily Lightman made a grab for it. She'd been up all night studying, and desperately needed her caffeine fix if she was going to stay awake for classes and then babysit her sister in the afternoon.

A masculine hand came out of nowhere and grabbed the coffee. Emily turned, toward the man, who was dressed in a business suit. "Okay, *no*," Emily said. "Absolutely not. That was mine."

"Drop dead, sweetheart," the man replied, silkily, while he sipped the coffee.

Was he on *crack*? Emily thought. Did he really just say that?

"I paid for that, you prick," Emily replied. A lawyer for a mother, and deception experts for a father and step-mother, she was never afraid to speak up for the underprivileged or trodden-upon (in this case, herself).

"This is Washington, honey," the man replied, still smoothly drinking the coffee.

"What the *hell* does that have to do with anything?"

A woman in a navy blue pantsuit, with long dirty-blonde hair done up in a bun had sidled up to the bar while no one was looking and was making hand gestures at the barista. The barista nodded, the woman smiled. The woman walked towards the man in the business suit, and Emily. As she passed, she simultaneously stepped on the man's foot in her 3-inch heels, and knocked the cup of coffee into him.

"Oh, I'm so *sorry*," the woman said, smirking.

"Bitch," he replied venomously, fumbling around for napkins while trying not to walk on his injured foot.

"You stole her coffee, you can *wear* her coffee."

Emily smiled, despite the lack of coffee, and the fact that she really could have handled this herself.

"You can pay for the dry-cleaning of my suit," the man hissed.

"Right. And you can buy her a new coffee. I see you do this *every* *day*. You've done it to me, you've done it to hundreds of other women, and I'm tired of it. With the number of coffees you've *never* bought, you can afford your own dry cleaning bill."

The man left the coffee house in a hurry.

"I'm sorry," the woman said, turning to Emily. "You were doing great, really, but I've wanted to stick it to him for *weeks*."

"It's fine," Emily said. "I just really needed that coffee."

"Barista's making another one, I've got it covered."

"Thanks," Emily said. "You really didn't have to. I could have done without."

"No, you couldn't. You look exhausted."

"I was up until 3:30 studying for a calculus final."


Emily nodded.

"Did my PhD there. Nice campus."

"Oh yeah," Emily replied. "Very scenic, and such. Especially if you like getting run down by the Plant Ops people every time you step into the street."

"So, things haven't changed much in the last few years, is what you're saying," the woman replied, giggling.

Emily grinned. "Nope. Look both ways before you cross the street and one will still pop out of nowhere."

Emily's coffee was ready. She picked it up, sipped it, and sighed happily.

"I remember those days," the woman said fondly. She fidgeted with her necklace, not sure what to say next or whether she should just end the conversation there.

Emily was braver (and more caffeinated). "Do you want to sit down for a minute? Share a scone? Reminisce?" She then looked horrified. "I mean, if you have time, and, god, we don't actually know each other."

The woman held out a hand. "Cassandra. Everybody and their mother calls me Cassie, though."

Emily shook Cassie's hand. "Emily."

"Well, Emily, raspberry lemon, or pumpkin?"

Emily spluttered on her coffee. "Excuse me?"

Cassie blushed. "Scone. What flavour?"

"Oh! Um, pumpkin?"

"Sounds good." Cassie went to purchase the scone, and then she and Emily looked for an empty table.

When they were both sitting down, jackets shrugged off, backpacks and laptop bags placed carefully next to them, Emily broke the scone in half, and nudged one half closer to Cassie.

Cassie nibbled a piece of icing, and regarded Emily carefully. The younger woman was pretty. Wavy brown hair, brown eyes, freckles. She had a look about her that one would generally associate with perpetual worrying. Emily noticed Cassie looking and grinned. The grin was one of genuine happiness (the corners of her eyes crinkled), but there was suppressed laughter behind that smile as well.

It wasn't suppressed for long. Emily laughed. Cassie shook herself out of the stare and said, "What?"

"It's nothing," Emily said, swallowing a giggle. "It's just--could you please look a little less worried? I'm not going to kidnap you."

Cassie couldn't help but chuckle. "It's not that. Really. I'm just a little lost in thought, is all." Like whether this counts as a date, whether or not you even *like* women, whether I'm reading too much into the look in your eyes...

"Well, allow me to distract you, then," Emily said, flicking a crumb rather accurately at the side of Cassie's head.

This struck both as hilarious, and they both dissolved into laughter. Once the giggles had mostly stopped, they began to discuss Georgetown - Cassie's alma mater, Emily's... current mater. Once that topic was exhausted, they began to discuss music. Neither were particularly adept at a musical instrument, both could play the piano only purely technically, and both enjoyed cello music.

Midway through an anecdote about Vitamin String Quartet, Emily glanced down at her phone, and did a double-take at the time. "Crap. I've got to get going or I'm going to miss my final."

"And I don't want to be late for my first day at my new job," Cassie said, packing up her things.

They walked together until the directions they were heading in diverged. "We should... do this again sometime," Emily said, adjusting the straps of her backpack.

"Absolutely," Cassie replied.

They said their goodbyes, and both wandered away wondering exactly *what* they should do again sometime. They had exchanged email addresses, so there was always time to hash that out later.

Neither realized that "later" would turn out to be that afternoon.

Word Count: 1023
Word Count to Date: 39890

February 2012

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