I honestly have nothing to say.

I can't focus much on words right now, and I keep typing the wrong thing, so don't expect this to be very long.
It's like my brain has exploded. Or died. Either way, it's like I can't write anything at all, even though I want to.
I can't write the challenge.
I can't even think of what to write for the challenge.
(No, I take that back I thought of something, with a little help from Cat, but I can't WRITE it.)
I can't come up with anything else to write about.
And so here I am, blogging about not being able to write anything.
My head feels empty. Almost like I have a headache, but it doesn't hurt.
Maybe I should go take a nap or something.
~P. Megz OUT!!!

Oh, you mean you expected me to post on time?

Funny thing, though, I really spent most of my time last night writing.
I guess it's just me being...me.
I have strange issues with organization, I don't know, maybe it has something to do with ADD or some other disorder, but it's a bit complicated.
First, you see, nothing ever remains clean in my room. That, at least, runs in the family. So nothing is ever clean longer than a day or two in my whole house. Thing is, I have to keep certain things neat and clean. Ex. I spent most of last night writing the challenge from a couple of weeks ago, because I had to write it first.
It makes sense. Sort of.
But you see, that isn't the extent of my strange cleanliness quirks.
"What are you doing?"
"Helping!"
"You've got a screwdriver! Go build a cabinent!"
"That's really rude!"
(Sorry, there's a Doctor Who marathon. I just had to involve some dialogue somewhere. It didn't matter how inopportune my placing of show references was.)
Anyway, back to my quirks.
NO ONE TOUCHES MY NOTEBOOK.
It drives me nuts when other people write on/in my notebook. I've been told I'm a  bit possessive of it, but no, it's MY notebook with MY name on it so it needs to be MY writing inside it.
But mostly, I am joking when I say no one touches my notebook. However, I seriously don't like it when people write in it. It's annoying.
I also claim that I am not a germaphobe, but I think Cat would say otherwise. I don't mind mud and dirt and stuff, but there are things that just really bother me. Like when someone, such as my brother, licks his fingers before handing me a french fry. Or sharing a bowl with someone.
It creeps me out.
I'm sorry, that may make me a germaphobe (How DO you spell that?) but it's the truth.
(Um, sorry, back to Doctor Who, I just realized that Canton Everett Delaware the third is...nevermind. What's more pressing is that I really think Amy's baby is the Doctor's. Because of how they talked about it at the end of The Day of the Moon episode.
Which makes me sad, because I love Rory the Roman. Stephen Moffat and his stupid plot twists...)
Anyway, now that I'm done being Ross-icistic and complaining about tidiness, I think I'll go finish the story I meant to write yesterday.
~P. Megz OUT!!!

Hello, friday, nice to see you again

1. as I sit here, with only blogger, iTunes, and Word open on my computer, I still can't think of anyone who would say that line besides Arthur to Merlin...
2. I'm sorry, I guess it was just my mention of the fanfiction yesterday that's made me think of it.
3. I have a new haircut! with bangs! which is different!
4. Yay! Different!
5. Oh, drat, I just realized I hadn't even thought of a new challenge yet.
6. Yes. I said drat. Just as I say nifty, spiffy, dandy, fantastic, awsom, and 'extremely very not good.'
7. Doctor Who reference. Once again, sorry. There's a marathon tomorrow. If you don't watch it already, a marathon is a perfect way to get into the show. :P
8. So, I went to see the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie today. It was better than I expected.
9. And the new guy, Philip, I like him. If they make another one, yes, they will have to stretch the plots a bit, but I will enjoy seeing Philip again. :3
10. DID YOU KNOW THAT THE GUY WHO PLAYS CHARLES XAVIER IN X-MEN: FIRST CLASS IS THE SAME GUY WHO PLAYED MR. TUMNUS?!? Yeah, I know, it's exciting!
11. Tally-ho!
12. Good song :)
13. Have you noticed that through this entire post, I haven't used parentheses? That's about to change...
14. Cat, you're challenge...is something you said you would write, but you may have forgotten.
15. Character relationships are the most fun to delve into (Holmes and Watson in the new Sherlock Holmes movie; and Neal and Peter in White Collar) Your job is to write one of my personal favorites, the teacher/student relationship. (ex. Will and Halt from Ranger's Apprentice, or...Eragon and Brom from Eragon, all of which I find adorable)
~P. Megz OUT!!!
Have fun, Cat! (And please, the adorable-ness of a relationship like that from your creation might evoke another squee...it's tempting just from the thought of it)

In which P. Meggy makes some confessions...

It's true.
I have researched how to pickpocket someone.
But that's beside the point, I have something more pressing to tell you about, readers.
I really love this blog. I do.
But it isn't my highest priority, (and I know that Cat and I are always apologizing) so I'm sorry.
Of course, the blog is rather high up on my list of priorities:
(My faith is first, of course, but that should go without saying)
School.
Soccer.
My friends and family.
And then the blog.
I'm sure there's something I've probably forgotten in there that's important. Oh, yes, sleep. Sleep is good. And that, my friends, is why some of the stories from myself are never posted. Particularly, the last one. Last week was exams, so everything then and before was extremely stressful.
But since school is out, I really don't have that much of an excuse anymore so I'll try harder.
I would say to expect something from me tomorrow, but as I never know if that's true or not, I wouldn't take my word for it.
If that sentence made sense.
I kind of have a headache, so I'm a bit stumbly over words right now.
(Stumbly. It's a word. If it isn't...it should be.)
Alas, I still have one more confession to make.
Fanfiction. I like it. It's fun. (Sometimes, of course, there are creepy stories and just terrible stories that don't make any sense.)
But there are really cool ones, too. I mean, think about it. Making a good fanfiction is a tough thing. You have to take someone else's character and contain them in their essence, and put it down on paper.
Some people can do it really well. (For instance, when I was bored the other day, I read a Merlin fanfiction that involved Arthur locking Merlin in a cupboard...which completely fits the characters' relationship. If you don't watch Merlin, well, it doesn't make much sense)
And those are the good ones.
I know Cat's always bashing fanfiction, and some of it is REALLY terrible, but I had to put that out there.
Since this post has become like a three page rant, I'll leave you be and go try and write those stories I owe you.
~P. Megz OUT!!!

CatCooper is very sophmoric....

Well, maybe not but still probly.  

More importantly....


I AM NO LONGER A FRESHMAN!!!!

Or I will be not a freshman when I get my grades.  Which are A's. 


GO CAT GO!!!!!!!!

After going through a year of straight A's in six out of seven of my classes being honors, I came to the conclusion that it is impossible to fail freshman year.  And yet people still do it. 


Bahh, who cares??  I get food from this delicious Mexican place called Las Tortugas in celebration of me accomplishing the possible.  


Las Tortugas is ahhmazing and awsom (no e's).  They get their ingredients fresh and, for the most part, locally.  They make these mango frescas that are lik the best thing to hit your tongue.

I'm hoping this fabulous ambrosia will give me some closure for this year.  It does not feel lik it has ended AT ALL.


But it has.


So now I can get started on SUMMER WORK!!!! YaY!!!!


A Happy Goodbye from CatCooper<3

Not Friday, Not Friday....

So guess who is posting almost on time....

ME!!

Well, I still have to write my story to post, but at least the challenge is only a day late.  

It's late because my church's praise band played at an end of school party last night.  My brosef brought me over to the house at lik 3 so I had no time to write.  

The cops got called twice.  We're still not exactly sure why, to be honest.  It must have been the tiki torches or maybe the Christian rap.  

Getting home was interesting.  Three amps+five guitars+three people+Honda Civic=no space. Guess who sat in the back with three guitars piled upon her.


ME!!


In the news....


The world is ending today.  Can you believe it?


I have one day of school.  Wa-CHA!!


We are on TWITTER!!!!  Follow us @PlotBunnyTwins 

Before I go, P Meggy, your challenge is to include the following sentence in a story.  "I feel as though I am now morally obligated to punch you in the face."  
Good.  Luck. 


A Heartfelt Goodbye from CatCooper<3

What am I doing? Slacking...as always.

1. Earlier, blogger was in read-only mode. So I was going to use that as an excuse
2. But then it let me write this post.
3. And so now I have no reason except for myself that I do not have a story ready to go.
4. It will be present.
5. I still have time.
6. It just isn't ready yet.
7. Especially considering I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M GOING TO DO
8. Exams are stressing me out.
9. Well, just as Cat's head donned a cone the other day, my knuckles now say "SAD LLAMA" when I make a fist just the right way.
10. Happy llama, sad llama, mentally retarded llama. Drama llama, super llama, big-fat mama llama.
11. Oh memories...
12. Speaking of which, I still have not uploaded the pictures from the mission trip in spring break onto my computer...

13. I should do that some time soon...

14. Oh, yes challenge! Write something inspired by...

15. that. Oh yes. (It's a picture I found of Highgate Cemetary in London. Yes. A Cemetary Of London)

~P. Megz OUT!!!

P.S. so, while trying to find an awesome picture, (which really wasn't that hard, I was just a little overwhelmed)I found something about the Highgate vampire and a bunch of ghosts...just fyi...you know, if you wanted to write about that or something...
Ghosts make good love stories...

y'all a STRAIGHT-UP CONE.

Little did CatCooper know that her life would be altered that fateful Tuesday of presenting  in second period Geometry.  The day she donned a blue and yellow cone hat would live in infamy for generations to come.  This day would transform the course of history to the extent that Cat would make a list that is not relative to Jon Foreman, music, or P Meggy.  

GASP

Okay, rewind.  

So today me and three friends presented a section on finding surface area of cones.  Therefore, we all wore cone hats.  

I wore mine for the rest of the day as well.  What kind of person would I be to deny myself the happiness of wearing a cone for a day?  

Well, I'm not sure if it would be a good thing to deny myself that opportunity.  

Maybe a LIST would help me figure it out.  

Lik a pro/con list....


The PRO's of wearing a cone on your head for a whole day....
--the upperclassmen who sit at the table behind me at lunch finally acknowledging that I exist
--my geometry teacher being impressed and loving me more (I didn't know it was possible for her to love me more)
--cute guys commenting on my hat
--referring to myself as a fairy princess'
--weirding people out more than usual
--pretending to be a unicorn
--having a reason for people to stare at me other than my charm and good lucks (you decide whether I say this sarcastically or not....)
--being laughed at
--making new friends (for the time being)
--pretending to be a student at Hogwarts

The CON's of wearing a cone on your head for a whole day.... 
 --the upperclassmen who sit at the table behind me at lunch finally acknowledging that I exist
--being called a cone 7193476790283283476 times
--being asked why I am wearing a cone on my head 72514364790821 times (I got very creative after time number 5436 and invented some ruddy brilliant answers)
--having my cone touched
--the awkward people who are unable to stare discreetly
--hmm....nothing else


My point that earned a place on both lists is somewhat humorous, really.  
PRO--Us freshies and the big scary old people are on marginally good terms.  Which is pretty new.  We have two freshie tables and one of them was berated with food and salt.  There has been a fair amount of disdain since The Showering of the Sodium.  
CON--Okay, so one of them, a blonde chick, took about five minutes of my lunch to ask dumb questions.  Her last question was "If you were talking about cubes, would you wear a cube on your head?"  My response, "Obviously I would make the cube into a chic bracelet."  Not making the most stimulating of conversations.  


Honestly, most of that group seemed to regard me with wariness.  It could've been that in the five minutes before the Inquisition that I (a) flapped my arms lik wings and (b) spent a minute two with the volume of my voice raised a good deal.  

(a) is justifiable.  My friend Katie suggested that I couldn't be a fairy princess since I don't have wings.  What would Wille Nelson have done in that situation?  Something similar....

(b) also is explained.  My friend Bailey suggested that Tonks/Harry was an adorable pairing.  I yelled said that one could only find that adorable if they were Hermione/Lupin shipper.  A stimulating argument ensued, both my friend Katie and held our defenses that T/H is creepy.  Tonks is no cougar.  What would JKR do in that case?  Faint most likely....

Hmm....  So I guess I'm done babbling for the day.  

A Histrionic Goodbye from CatCooper<3 

Squee! I love it!

1. That was awsom, Cat. I love that song. It's my current favorite.
2. and I love this challenge I'm so excited!
3. but also disappointed that I was on a roll of doing blog posts on the right days, but then I didn't...
4. But I love reading/writing retellings of fairy tales. 
5. All you diehard plotbunny fans remember 044.
6. Yes. Diehard fans. We has them.
7. Or not, but you know, a girl can dream, right?
8. Anyway, so the Adventures of Thomas Morrigan are still not quite up to par.
9. Sorry to disappoint.
10. OMGG, I just realized that Doctor Who comes on tonight and I think it may be on right now, so I hope I remembered to record it.
11. Don't judge me.
12. I could go all hipster and say, "You wouldn't understand."
13. Bahahaha.
14.

15. I want one. :D
16. So, because Thomas Morrigan wasn't quite ready, have a poem I wrote for an English project. Yes. Poetry from P. Meggy. Brace yourself.




"The Moon"

The moon hangs overhead, sometimes blue, sometimes red,

like one of the guards, watching from above,

it looks down on us, all arrogance and apathy.

Perhaps the moon is indifferent, or maybe flippant.

Or maybe the moon is lonely,

as it hangs in the sky, not content to watch the world pass by,

like a dead soldier’s widow, waiting, watching, wanting,

willing her husband to return to her,

the moon sits and waits, calmly accepting its fate.

The moon can be many things,

but it seems almost like a person, who,

is intense, impressive, or indifferent.

But mostly, I think, the moon, be it blue or red,

is like a man without hope,

for it won't ever be the sun.

Shelter Me, Oh Genius Words....

The Minstrel’s Prayer

Conner Shade pulled his zip-up jacket tighter around him, wishing he’d worn something warmer.  Chicago’s December air did little to make the world seem like a brighter place.  

Conner finally reached the house he was looking for, one that seemed to mirror the quaint cottage-like homes around it.  He walked up to the front door and carefully placed a letter on the door step, praying the wind wouldn’t blow strong enough to propel the pieces of paper to somewhere other the porch of the women he loved. 

Walking away, he hoped that Jacey would read his words and understand. 

Jacey Helms woke up the next morning and checked her email as she drank her black coffee.  An email from one Chanson Reed, no one she’d ever heard of, asked her to check under the mat on her porch. 

Normally, Jacey would’ve left the house immediately and gone to the office to run a background check on Chanson Reed.  The poor man would’ve found Jacey, an experienced private investigator, conducting searches of his bank accounts and social networking sites.  She would’ve found if he was some sort of stalker or pervert and waited for further contact. 

But something about this felt different.  Chanson Reed was an unfamiliar name, but it was identifiable somehow, as though he was a long-lost friend. 

Jacey checked under the mat on her porch to find her name on an envelope, written in a well-known, sloppy script.  She considered throwing the letter away, expecting it was just another plea from her ex-boyfriend.  Something about it, like Chanson Reed, was special. 

Inside were several sheets of lined paper covered, front and back, in the cramped handwriting she recognized as being Conner’s. 

Anger welled inside of her that he would even dare to communicate after everything, but here he was, writing letters like he’d written her songs.  Oh, Conner could write, sure, but share emotion?  Talk?  No and no. 

She knew that it would be better for her still-breaking heart if she just tore the letter to pieces.  But, guessing she was some kind of masochist, she began to read. 

Jacey,

I doubt you know how long I’ve been singing for you.  Five years, really. 

I played by the subway entrance every day with my case out, waiting for tips from the passerby. 

The tips started coming less and less and less.  My music was getting old, and I wasn’t writing anything new.  I was losing hope, losing it fast.  It was December, and my heart was frozen, unfeeling and impassionate. 

But Jacey, then you happened.  From what I know now, I gather that you passed me everyday because you’d moved offices.  But five years ago, God had sent you, an angel, to walk past me. 

That song about the girl with deep blue eyes and dark red hair?  The one that gave life new meaning?  The most beautiful girl ever?  That’s you, Jay. 

I tried so hard to catch your eye for that first year. I got more bold, more daring, in the way I arranged chords and random parts.  Sometimes, all of Chicago seemed to be asleep, but you kept me awake.  I wrote you song upon song for many three a.m.’s. 

That first year was pretty rocky. You seemed so far away from whatever crappy apartment I was living in.   Sometimes, I’d convince myself that none of it was real or true, that we weren’t meant to be.  Then I’d see you’re smile and know that I was just kidding myself if I thought you weren’t my destiny. 

Sometimes, you were fairly disdainful.  The beggar on the street, right?  The guy who never applied himself in school and ended up playing on the street to pay the bills?  I got pretty used to that.  I got a 33 on my ACT and graduated with a 4.243 GPA, number 12 of my graduating high school class.  But the hours of school aren’t for all of us.  And if I had resigned myself to the miserable put forth by others, I never would’ve seen your beautiful face, would I?

It was November of the first year when you snapped at me.  Told me to shut up.  I guess I was smart enough to observe from the mascara lines on your cheeks that you’d had a crappy morning, coupled with the broken heal on your shoe. 

I could’ve shut up, been meek like I was nearly every other day of my life.  But something told me I had to be audacious. I played Daniel Powder’s “Bad Day.”  Honestly, I thought you were about to chunk your thermos of coffee at me.  But you cracked a smile and let out a short, but sincere laugh.  Truth be told, I’ll never write music as beautiful as that simple smile and small laugh. 

That windy, cold, November day, I played and sang almost all day, just so I could see you when you came home. 

I introduced myself, but I wasn’t the bold guy who played “Bad Day.’  I was simply Conner, shy and soft-spoken.  I worried time and time again that Simply Conner wouldn’t be good enough for you.  Jay, you cast away all those fears and insecurities when you told me your name.  You apologized for that morning and told me how good my music was. 

After that day, you always stopped to at least say hello.  Sometimes we’d talk long enough that you’d glance at your watch and realize you were late for work. 

Honestly, our second year passed without many events.  I wrote you music.  You listened, entirely oblivious as to who the enchanting girl who’d put me under a spell was. 

However, I learned a lot during our second year.  I learned you’re classy.  You wear expensive designer clothes.  You believe in etiquette.  Gees, you even like classical.  But the secret is that you like more acoustic artists like Andrew Belle and Jon Foreman, with the occasional indulgence of Andrew Bird.   You love cheeseburgers and hotdogs, but you want people to believe that you’re entirely satisfied with your caviar.  Your favorite book is Pride and Prejudice, and you’ve read at least eighteen times.  Your favorite color is purple, but black is yor preference when it comes to clothes.  Your parents are divorced and have been since you were about six or seven.  You have a brother and a sister, who you rarely see because of your work schedule.  You have a cat, which is often the only thing that brings you back to your apartment from work.  You look like you’re about five-six, but you’re actually about four inches shorter; you just love heals.  You love Bagel Bites, and I may or may not have searched through your trash to find that out. 

I’m joking.  However, I would prefer it if you didn’t ask how I know that. 

I learned a lot about myself as well.  I’m an unemployed, vegan, music-playing, rock-and-metal-loving, shy, fairly unemotional hipster. 

I’m not your type.  But our third year taught me that that doesn't actually matter. 

On January seventeenth, you asked me to go to a dinner at some Asian restaurant for your birthday.  One dinner led to a date. One date led to another date.  Another date led to meet the parents. Meet the parents led to meet the whole family.  Meet the whole family led to Easter with Gran and Gramps in Pennsylvania.  And so on and so forth. 

I don’t think I’d ever known what it’s like to be truly happy before I was with you.  I smiled while I played at that same subway entrance.  I sang more of sunshine and rainbows and less of rain darkness.  I wrote songs that made people stop and listen. 

I wrote songs that made one business executive at Whirlwind Records stop and listen.  I had a tryout set up on the spot, but I can’t find it in me to take credit, especially when I think about how you inspired me to sing the song that got me a record deal. 

Our fourth year was very different.  I was making money.  While I was playing in a park, some random hipster told me he liked the post modernistic qualities of my music.  (I told him I’m not a post modernist, and he seemed somewhat subdued after that.)  Slowly, but surely, I was rising the ranks of fame. 

I think you felt as though you would become obsolete, like the time we went out to eat, and someone asked for my autograph.  I wish, how I wish, I had told you that you would never, ever be outdone.  But, as always, I kept my mouth shut and didn’t bother to tell you how much you do mean to me. 

  But at least we were still happy, despite some tense moments and close calls. 

Our fifth year, this past year, has been the strangest of all.  I have fans.  I have random teenaged girls who tell me they would like me to father their children.  I have people shake my hand and tell me how great I am. 

But none of that matters!  Because this whole year I've been losing you! 

Three months ago, you told me it was over and done after some random girl told you I had cheated on you with her.  She’s just some girl I label as a stalker and creep.  She matters about as much as a ham sandwich.  Remember, I’m a vegan. 

But you, Jacey, you’re everything to me.  I hear my songs on the radio, but I don’t care because they’re only ever for you anyways!  Every verse, ever chorus is cry and plead for you to look and see that you’re the only I could ever want.  But even music doesn't matter to me because you’re not listening. 

I know I don’t communicate well.  I block you out when I should let you in.  I’m passive aggressive.  I spend more time with my guitar than you.  I don’t fight or argue, but maybe if I had fought, I’d still have you. 

Jay, I’m willing to try for you.  I read Pride and Prejudice for you.  I bought a suit for you.  I explored new key signatures for you.  I used to hate Vivaldi and Beethoven, but now I can’t stop listening to classical.  I became a better person because of you. 

I wanna fight, as long as it’s with you.  Please, just call me, and we can scream until my throat’s so sore I can’t sing for a month. 

Don’t let this be over, I'm begging you.  I wanna write songs for you until I've lost my dexterity and can’t play guitar.  And then I wanna keep writing for you. 

You were my angel that day five years ago.  I want you to be my angel forever. 

Conner                 

          Jacey puts the letter on her dining room table and wipes tears off her face.  She picks up her cell phone, dialing a well-known number. 

          After several rings, he answers up.  “Hello?”

          “Conner?”

          What Jacey hears is the closest thing to a squeal she’s ever heard from Conner.  “Oh my gosh, Jacey, I’m so sorry!  You’ve gotta believe me, girl, I need you!  Don’t—”

          “Conner,” she interrupts.  “One question.”

          “Yeah?”  He is noticeably more dejected, like a kicked puppy. 

          “How did you know I like Bagel Bites so much?”

          His response consists of a somewhat nervous laugh, but Jacey knows that, as he said in his letter, his laugh is more beautiful than any music he, even he, could ever write.  

Meh....

I'm tired.

I just wrote four pages of the challenge.


I want to sleep.  

P Meggy, you're challenge is to create a short story that is a modernized version of a fairytale.  You can take the whole fairytale, or just part of it.  Make me proud.  


A Haggard Goodbye from CatCooper

Lik, it's just another random list!

1. I'm not sure if it has been pointed out before, but Cat spells like like lik
2. Woah...she spells like as lik. If that makes more sense. I'm not sure. Too many likes...or liks..
3. Bahahaha, now there's four angry red lines underneath my words.
4. Not that I'm unused to them, because I always say awsom.
5. Creative misspellings.
6. I read my first friday fifteen the other day. (Nostalgia) I said I didn't like lists.
7. Because they reminded me of grocery shopping.
8. Oh, how times have changed.
9. I keep accidentally pressing the pause button, and it wants me to pull up iTunes.
10. But I refuse.
11. Melodious, Megawsom, Mezzosoprano
12. I actually had to look the last one up.
13. So, why this random list?
14. I have no idea.
15. But it's not friday...
16. So I cannot end my list on fifteen!!!
17. I decided that this random list was too boring, so I added this bulletpoint at the end to make it more entertaining.
18. I don't think it worked.
~P. Megz OUT!!!

Nevermind, I'll Find SOMEONE LIK YOU....

You guessed it!!

Well, maybe you didn't.  


It's ADELE's song "Someone Like You," which I am currently obsessed with.  It will soon join my top plays in iTunes.  

Although, it has to catch up with:
1. "The Drink in My Hand," The Classic Crime, 1919 plays
2. "Dirty and Left Out," The Almost, 1373 plays
3.  "Wake Up (Shipwreck)," The Classic Crime, 1244 plays
4. "Only You," Cartel, 1135 plays
5. "Headlights." The Classic Crime, 651 plays
6. "Frank Morris," Capital Lights, 600 plays
7. "When the Time Comes," The Classic Crime, 575 plays 
8. "Seattle," The Classic Crime, 556 plays
9. "Faust, Midas, and Myself," Switchfoot, 546 plays
10. "Dance, Dance, Christa Paffgen," Anberlin, 519 plays

Okay, so maybe it won't be in my top plays soon, what with its modest play count of 7.  But the point is, I really like.  You can expect a "Someone Like You" songfic VERY soon.  

HintHint.

Maybe.  

I don't really know.  

So, today I was thinking about how P Meggy the Mezzosoprano and I never seem to post. 

Then I checked the blog.  

Hmm.

It seems that I just never post.  

Meh.  

I've been busy.  

And sick.

And lazy.  

And....hmm....flabbergasted??

:P

[blows raspberry]

So I actually like this challenge.  One of the few I've actually liked.  I usually hate Megawsom's challenges.  
'Cause "The Minstrel's Prayer" (Cartel) is a ballin' song.  

And I heart being a helpless romantic.  As is shown by Questioning Fiction, Liberated, It Makes Way for Spring, Within Five Minutes, and Will This Ever End?.  

BTW, fictionpress loves me.  Since March 25, "Questioning Fiction" has been reviewed five times, was favorited by 6 people, and has gotten 276 views.  

Well, that's basically all at this point.  

A Halcyonic Goodbye from CatCooper<3