(no subject)

Am having a v. bad week. Monday I was nearly late for work, Tuesday I managed to put a freakin' staple through my goddamn thumb, Wednesday was, well, you know, yesterday my fucking walkman broke, and today I'm just being incredibly catty and short-tempered.

Which is to say, if I'm quiet today, it's because I don't want to scream at people for things they didn't mean.

I really wish my PMS would stop once my periods start. And that was possibly TMI for at least one of you. Whoops.

In cheerier news ...

Huh

On 26 June 2000, I said:

Edit: This is about the RPS debate, which was just getting into full swing back then.

If this goes on like this, the slash world will eventually be devided into two camps: the viciously antis on one side, and the pro's and those who don't care on the other side.

Which, I think, is pretty much what happened, innit? I'm a visionary.

(no subject)

Of the good:

1. Marcus!
2. ... I'll get back to you on that.

Of the bad:

1. My First Kiss story is, currently, two sentences long, and going places it isn't supposed to go, dammit.
2. Still catty.
3. I hurt in various places, for no discernable reason.
4. I'm sleepy, dammit!
5. I want to fucking write, but none of my bunnies are cooperating.
6. Have I mentioned the cattiness?
7. People (present company excluded) are assholes.
8. Correction: People (present company excluded) are stupid assholes.
9. My email is still down.
10. I'm a sucky person who is simply unable to feedback, at all.

I think I'll go and look into changing my icons or making a wallpaper or something. Feh.

Muses: 667, Melle: Nil.

Double drabble, which may or may not also end up being the beginning of this bunny. With thanks to AltaVista for translation help.

He made it to Cuba by May, and by then Harry's trail was only seven years old. I'm gaining on him, he thought, and spent the next three weeks cursing Harry as he tracked him over dusty roads, from village to even tinier village.

"¿Dónde puedo encontrar un lugar para dormir?" The reaction of the old man didn't give Draco much hope that he'd be spending the night anywhere but outside. Again.

He was startled by a voice coming from behind him. "I didn't know you spoke Spanish."

He whirled around. "What the hell are you doing here?" Which, really, was the stupidest thing he could've said.

"I live here. What are you doing here?" Looking disturbingly calm for someone who’d vanished off the face of the earth over ten years ago, and was now found again.

"I was ..." He pauses, and thinks. "Following you."

"Any particular reason?" And he was still showing no emotion aside from a faint trace of amusement, and Draco really wanted to kick him in the shins just to get a reaction out of him. Just like old times, he thought.

"Not really. Because I wanted to see if I could find you, I guess."

</blockquot

Why My Life Sucks: Update

Still catty. Newly developed headache joining the plethora of random aches isn't helping things. Managed to write something, so that's Of The Good. People are still assholes. Email back up, thank god. Still unable to feedback.