I'm not a hardship. I'm awesome.

Kate's mood was a seriously fickle thing. Generally speaking, she was probably doing better than she had last week; she was largely doing fine when she was with people (provided none of those people were Bod), mind comfortably occupied, but relapses into severe gloom were still far too easy when she was alone. Like right now.

It had started when she'd been cleaning up her half of the room since even Bobby had bothered to do it yesterday, and she had come across a certain notebook that had just brought all the stupid hurt back. Having shoved the notebook away again, she'd seen all her Princess Valhalla crap and one thing had led to another, and now she was sitting on her bed in full costume (with a matching pink scarf around her neck), with the laptop in her lap. She hadn't bothered with squirrelproofing the room, not this time. Doing this right now had been a snap decision, and she didn't have any rum at hand. And she couldn't quite bring herself to care anymore, about whether word got out or not. She didn't see any consequences worse than the ones she'd already suffered through.

Still, having made her presence known online, she declined all requests from the guys she knew for sure would skeeve her out, meaning anyone she'd already done things for. She didn't think she could even stomach seeing their faces, to be honest. But then, then there was someone whose nick was just a normal name, not a scifi reference she didn't get or a desperately suggestive piece of utter failure. So, she clicked on 'Accept', and watched her newest acquaintance show up on her screen. He looked to be in his late twenties, with shortish brown hair and a nice face. And she actually remembered meeting this guy: it was easy to remember him, seeing as he was the only conventionally attractive guy she'd seen her entire time at the comic book store. Not that she'd paid his looks all that much mind back then. She'd been in love, but that was over now, so she was letting herself pay more attention to the fact that this guy was actually kind of cute.

( Once more with feeling: I'm your Princess Valhalla Hawkwind, and your wish is my ultimate command; Or, Meet Zach. )

[ooc: Door is closed, but the post is open, and the girl is a lot less moody than text outside the cut may suggest! If you want to try and catch her in costume, this is most likely your last chance. This is also completely broadcastable since she doesn't give a damn anymore. Taken and twisted into a funky mashup from both USoT S02E08 'Explosive Diorama' and S02E09 'The Family Portrait'.]

After returning to Fandom the previous afternoon, Kate had mostly been recuperating by sleeping a lot. It had been more than necessary after the week she'd been having, and it had been all kinds of awesome to just be completely unconscious most of the time.

But there came a point where there was no more sleeping or napping needed. And Kate had gone past that point a while ago, and then she'd started to feel like she should do something, just to get her mind off things. And at first that something had been to clean up her desk, but that was only until her eyes happened fall on the notepad with the original PVH email list on it.

It didn't take all that long for her to be at the point where she'd made sure she'd be undisturbed for a while, and she was just about to start a webcam chat with a guy who called himself fourth_mister.

She'd only put on her wig and her helmet, and foregone the rest of the outfit for a generic pink shirt and her golden leggins, and she adjusted her helmet right before watching a slightly nervous twenty-something show up on her screen. She felt a twinge of some nervousness of her own, but she quirked a quick smile at him. "Hey."

"Hi," the guy replied, starting to smile. "Is this Princess Valhalla Hawkwind?"

"Yes it is," Kate smirked. "Now let's do this."

And so Princess Valhalla Hawkwind had officially entered the webcam business.

[ooc: NFI, OOC-okay, partially taken from USoT S02E08 'Explosive Diorama', and up super early because I'm leaving to spend the weekend being overfed by my darling grandmother who seems to think that an average-sized 22-year-old girl is actually half a battallion of malnourished soldiers in clever disguise.]