littleladylord

Meme: Jealousy

katelpperkins@gmail.com — Fri, 29 Mar 2013 22:25:57 GMT

It had been nice, of course, seeing some the JSA people and introducing them to Saishu. Tess had been one of Cindy's primary trainers in getting the basic physical and procedural necessities of hero work, Will was a sweetheart, and Layla was ...

attractive. Properly attractive. Not Saishu-level gorgeous by a long shot but somewhere in the sort of league that might share a ballpark. As opposed to barely being able to play catch.

And Cindy felt her self getting twitchy. And as they headed out later, it didn't go away.

Beach

katelpperkins@gmail.com — Thu, 07 Feb 2013 09:44:58 GMT

Cindy had arranged some private beach time. Just her and Saishu, alone in the little cove all day. Which was good, because she had a plan. A plan to deal with Saishu's difficulty grasping the point of bathing suits. A plan that Cindy was not going to back out of, because she was an adult, and could accomodate her girlfriend, and... yeah. So wehn she went out on the sand wearing a towel, she didn't have a swimsuit underneath. She hadn't even packed one. Cap over the wall and all that. She could join Saishu in her crazy naked ways. She could.

katelpperkins@gmail.com — Wed, 12 Sep 2012 07:07:16 GMT

She'd ordered from the catalog some time back. Good investment, after all, considering where the profits went. And a good investment, y'know, for the other thing too if she had to...sort some stuff out.

But she'd left them in the packaging. She hadn't had the nerve.

Finally, she sat fidgeting one night after dinner. "Um, weird question, Beautiful?"

Exiles AU

katelpperkins@gmail.com — Tue, 12 Jun 2012 06:23:13 GMT

"Foxglove lyrics," Cindy said, looking at Sarah excitedly. "The Tallus is spouting Foxglove lyrics. Wow. That's why you're not seeing any of your heroes or your newspapers. This is more like my New York. Specifically, it's George's Tongue. I have the album that was from. Released in 1998, but she admits in the liner notes she got the idea for the song in November of 1991, when that hurricane inexplicably hit New York out of the blue."

After that little rant, the little redhead paused for breath. "Oh dear. I'm going to go get a newspaper and check the date."

Very AU: Exiles Road

katelpperkins@gmail.com — Sat, 09 Jun 2012 00:31:51 GMT

She fell in the sand with a WHUMPH, and followed the smell of coffee and muffins to a man who couldn't be haggled with. He told her horrifying stories about her father turning into a bigoted monster, and said the only way to stop it was to work with his people.

Cindy wasn't happy about any of this, anything was better than letting that happen to Daddy, to the world, if by some chance this guy was for real. So. Okay. Here she was, standing on some bizarre street, surrounded by bizarre people.

And.... wow.

Practice Makes Perfect.

katelpperkins@gmail.com — Tue, 29 May 2012 20:33:48 GMT

They had the gym to themselves. Cindy was trying to put forth the effort to keep getting better. She'd been in the biz for a little while, but she knew she was far from a natural.

"Okay. Suggestions?"

Big Night.

katelpperkins@gmail.com — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 06:58:54 GMT

It was Saturday night, and Cindy was going to do this properly. A card with a polite invitation to join her for dinner at 7, meeting on the first floor of HQ, had been placed in Saishu's room along with a blood-red Atelier Versace dress (slitted in the appropriate places to avoid too much movement restriction) and matching leather flat sandals. Cindy'd dressed up a bit herself.

Bendytime: Right after the Whole Thing.

katelpperkins@gmail.com — Sat, 12 Nov 2011 07:18:51 GMT

Well, that had been eventful. And now, Cindy was standing here, trying to ignore the hunger. Lots, and lots of hunger. Either for food or for that smoking hot Amazon that she'd decided to stop staring at so much. So she was singing a song under her breath to try to distract herself.

"Who wants to be some handsome, stuffy playboy?/Who wants to face the bad guys all alone?/ The last thing that I need/ is to be a romantic lead./ I want to grow up to be Peter Lorre/ and steal the girl for my own."

It Seems Crazy...

katelpperkins@gmail.com — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 05:55:04 GMT

"So, everything okay in your room, Saishu? Need anything?" Cindy had been checking on everyone's being well-supplied, but she was willing to admit to herself that it was a little bit different with Saishu.

AU: I don't always rush in like this....

katelpperkins@gmail.com — Thu, 30 Jun 2011 04:49:02 GMT

She was...incredible. Statuesque and easygoing and everything Cindy wasn't. Not that Cindy didn't know other girls like that, but ... oh gosh. What hopes Cindy harbored that maybe she wasn't a lesbian after all were vanishing. "So. Um. About a chance to practice...." Seriously? she asked herself. You want to try to learn things with the beautiful green chick who fries your brain just looking at her?

Nic's Birthday.

katelpperkins@gmail.com — Thu, 09 Jun 2011 18:38:07 GMT

Cindy crouched and leaned to slip the present onto Nic's ankle. Her fingers brushed lightly. Oh gosh, even Nic's feet were perfect. "Happy Birthday, Beautiful," she said in Masri as she looked up at her.

Flashback: 8 years ago.

katelpperkins@gmail.com — Sun, 24 Oct 2010 07:52:45 GMT

Barbie tried on outfits. Barbie worked on her calculator and did Stacie's hair.

Ken came out of the drawer. Ken and Barbie made veiled insults at each other for fifteen minutes. Then Barbie went in the drawer and Ken and Stacie talked for a few minutes while Ken worked on his calculator. Ken and Stacie hugged. Then Barbie came back out of the drawer. Barbie and Ken traded veiled insults for a few minutes. Then Ken went back in the drawer.

Between her allowance and her lemonade stand money from the summer, Cindy could definitely more than afford some of the Stacie's Friends dolls. She probably should get some.

If you don't practice, you might as well give the clarinet to a kid who will.

katelpperkins@gmail.com — Sat, 16 Oct 2010 04:44:59 GMT

Cindy strode through one of her father's offices with a purposeful expression. A few of the young desk jockeys recognized it, and wondered whose day was going to get moderately lucrative and very surreal.

It'd started when she was 13 and first struggling to understand her abilities. She'd printed up a waiver and handed it and two weeks' allowance to an office boy whose hourly wage made it look nice. Once he'd signed it, politely asked him to hop on one foot, repeating it every time he'd stopped during the ensuing five minutes.

It'd been a periodic Thing ever since. The boss's underage daughter getting boys and men five to ten years older to go off to one of the empty conferences rooms with her for an hour certainly didn't look right, but people tended to know it was because of The Metagene Thing and not something skeezy --well, skeezier than this particular family's metagene was by nature by nature -- and kept it quiet.

She'd gotten more creative, these past three years. She'd signed NDAs herself to guarantee she'd never speak of embarrassing information she Nicely Asked out of them. By the time she was fifteen, she'd gotten a bit nasty. Spencer in Quality Assurance, who wasn't allergic to cilantro but hated it with a firey passion, had ordered the pico de gallo at her polite request and eaten every bite. Then she'd taken a turn for the actually helpful as she pressed her Asking Nicely to new extremes: Everyone at the office had, eventually, quit smoking.

And so today, as the waiver and cash came out as he finished loading packages on the shelf in the mailroom, Duncan Campbell wondered what he was in for. "Okay. I'll take you up on it."
"Great. We're going to the basement." At the raised eyebrow, she adds. "Do I need to say out loud that everyone who's ever going to know gets that nothing inappropriate is happening?" she asks, incapable of looking less lecherous. "Do I need to mention that I have a girlfriend now, and she's prettier than you, Mr. Campbell?"
"All right, Miss Lord, let's go."
And as soon as they're done there, "Please hit me."
"WHAT?"
"Okay, this one's clearly going to be hard. Because let me assure you, Mr. Campbell. It's not like you have a strong mind. Now, I need to work on my pain tolerance and avoidance and so many things, and it's multiple birds with one stone. If you would be so kind as to slap me?"
This time, his hand automatically rises, but he stops short of actually striking her. "Miss Lord, you're a 5'2" sixteen-year-old girl...."
"And you're a 6'1" twenty-year-old mailboy whom my girlfriend could beat up with only the toes of her left foot. Let's see if being mad helps, but don't do it consciously. Mr. Duncan Connor Campbell, I'd be much obliged if you would slap me, please."
And all the working out Cindy's been doing pays off as she catches his wrist.

She smiles. "Thank you so much, Mr. Campbell," she says sweetly.

To-Do List, September 18

katelpperkins@gmail.com — Sat, 18 Sep 2010 06:51:06 GMT

1. Nic-related research: Presents?
2. Marketing prep for Avia.
3. Homework
4. Nic-related research: how to say 'You look beautiful' in Masri.
5. Workout!
6. Call Michael Re: Opportunities
7. Call Nic.
8. Call Riley and Dinah Re: 1904

Journal: As a product, it's vital to sell me, so Machiavell me

katelpperkins@gmail.com — Fri, 20 Aug 2010 05:26:56 GMT

I'm not exactly special.

Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm "special." I'm meta. I'm on the honor roll and speak four languages. I'm filthy rich.

But as superheroine material, none of that's impressive. My gift's too creepy to be ethically shown off. I'm not a science whiz. In a profession where it's average to be above average, I'm below average height, and most of my curves are in the wrong places. I don't really know how to fight.

And let's face it, Journal. I'm a Lord.

I love my dad, and he has the soul of a weasel.

I love my mom, and so does she.

And I tend to take after them reasonably often. I'm not sure how much I can re-brand, even to myself. I want to be a heroine, but do I really even qualify as heroic?

I'm still focused on marketing myself as the kind of girl who can get results, of course. But if I'm going to try looking for the suggested help from the JSA, I'll be out of a position to really know enough to work the angles.

I like it better when I know what I have to offer people.

Party Planning

katelpperkins@gmail.com — Thu, 08 Jul 2010 05:09:38 GMT

Her big day was Coming Up. Cindy needed an address list for the invitations. This required a refresher in who among the Who's Who of hero brats was where. And Cindy Lord knew just the man to call.

Jerry Carr.