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helianskies · 1 year

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12 or 13 for characters/couple of your choice?

perfect choice! i've been waiting to unleash these morons once more—

Snowball

“Throw that snowball, and you’ll be in big trouble!”

Antonio and Gilbert both halt. Each carries a snowball in hand, and they share a look between them that, to Francis, spells out only mischief and madness.

The three of them have gathered for their annual holiday celebration in Germany. Snow has blessed them this year—a pleasant surprise, particularly for Antonio and Francis who do not see it so often—and, as would only naturally follow, the trio have ventured outside.

Perhaps only somewhat surprisingly, it had been Antonio who had started the war. The first snowball had flown just shy of Francis’ person and hit Gilbert square in the chest. He’d sworn, laughed, and then instantly taken to gathering up snow to launch his counteroffensive—and the rest is history!

Now here Francis stands, in the middle of a spontaneous warzone, two friends throwing snowballs at each other and narrowly missing him until, at last, he is faced by a brazen Gilbert, poised and ready to throw his next load of ammunition right at the Frenchman.

So, “Throw that snowball, and you’ll be in big trouble!” he warns his friend, wanting him to see sense rather than his usual mayhem.

It earns naught but a grin, toothy and cheeky—Gilbert all over.

"You should know by now that he's into being told off!" Antonio reminds Francis out of left field in due course, just as he lobs a fresh snowball at Gilbert, which hits the other cleanly in the shoulder. "Aha! Gotcha!"

“That was so underhand, Fernández!” Gilbert calls back at him, and, once more, Francis is forced to duck and avoid an incoming ball of snow and ice.

This is not exactly his idea of fun, he has to admit. He doesn’t want to think he and his two dear friends have interests that are that different, but in winter, they are certainly different creatures:

Francis much prefers the indoors at this time of year, huddling in front of a fire, a glass of warm spiced wine, watching those terribly entertaining straight-to-TV Christmas rom-com films; Gilbert is more the sort who likes to be outdoors, who embraces the cold, who visits Austria to go skiing (and pester his old flame while he’s at it), who can’t sit still; and Antonio is like a fine blend of the two.

And a… an avid fan of starting snowball fights, it seems…

…Speaking of snowball fights—

“Ow!”

“Haha! Take that!”

“Children, please,” Francis tries to placate as Antonio recovers from a direct hit. “Can we maybe park this little Spanish-Prussian war for now and, uh, retreat back inside?” he suggests. “You know, I am struggling to feel my fing—”

Antonio gasps, loud and mortified. His ready-to-go snowball drops down to the ground and his hands fall over his face, masking his shock for a few seconds, before he cries out a furious, “Gilbert!”

Gilbert, however, gives no response nor reaction. Perhaps he is in shock, too, just as Antonio is, and just as Francis is.

Because Francis has just received a faceful of hard snow. It feels as though winter has exploded across his skin, so cold, so icy, so horrid. He’s aghast. He’s deeply offended. He wipes the remnants of snow from his face and slowly turns to look at his assailant—his friend turned enemy—with betrayal threatening to spill over his rim.

He takes a deep breath.

“Gilbert…”

“Oh, Scheisse…”

“Gilbert, mon ami, where are you running, huh?”

“Just, uh… Just saw something really interesting over here! That’s all!”

“Go easy on him, Fran, you know his bones are as brittle as breadsticks!”

“Then he should be more careful about running so fast, no? He could slip! He could hurt himself!” Francis calls over his shoulder as he finishes forming a snowball of his own, marching rather fast in Gilbert’s footsteps. “And that would be such a shame, especially on our special weekend together!”

Antonio doesn’t doubt it. But, on second thought… Perhaps he should not interfere with Francis’ revenge; he would hate to be caught by the backswing of his rounded, snowy sword…

[ final wordcount, 680 words! ]

#helia writes #hetalia #hws france #hws prussia #hws spain #hws bft #a shorter one for once haha #anyone else... really fancy breadsticks?#i do...#happy 24th december :)

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countessofravenclaw · 1 year

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The 2022 writing Advent calendar: Day 2

2. Christmas concert/competition

“I am so excited!” Francesca said to Diego who was sitting on the driver’s seat. It was early march and they were driving towards the studio to a super secret meeting that Pablo had called their whole class for. “What do you think this will be about?”

“I don’t know,” Diego answered, “Must be something important since I hear that the guys canceled an interview for this.”

Not that getting called to the studio for a meeting would have been that odd, if it would have been the past three years… but it was not. They had all graduated now, so even if the Studio was always gonna be their home, it was not their school anymore. SO this meeting had come out from little bit out of the blue.

“I guess we will find out ince we get there.” Fran continued.

***

“Fran!” Vilu ran up to hug her best friend as she and Diego appeared at the studio. She had been singing with Leon on the piano just a moment before with Ludmila and Federico.

“Vilu! It is so great to see you! Do you know what this is about?”

“No I don’t.” Vilu lamented, “I think Angie does, but she refuses to tell me anything. But it is so nice to be here again with everyone.”

Maybe ten minutes later everyone had gathered on the stage of the studio after Maxi and Naty had arrived with Camila as the last ones.

“Where is Pablo?” Diego questioned after greetings had died down.

“I hope this was not a joke,” Leon remarked before getting a smack on the arm from Violetta.

“I heard that!” Pablo suddenly emerged through the sliding doors with Angie. “No, this was not a jokeeeee…” he continued saying as everyone swarmed them into a huge group hug. “...Well guys, I am glad to see you too.”

“Pablo, why did you ask us here today?” Violetta asked after the commotion had died down.

“Well, we have a proposal to run past you,” Pablo started explaining, “You as the class of 2015 are undoubtedly the most-known class that has graduated from Studio OnBeat in ten years, and we are so proud of you.”

“And, we have been talking with our students about this year’s end-of-the-year showcase,” Angie took over the explaining, “And we actually are going to do a big Christmas sing-along. After YouMix, Pablo was originally bit hesitant about finding new partners, but now we have partnered with a new streaming company called Vidia, and they have agreed to sponsor the concert.”

“Angie that sounds amazing!” Francesca gasped

“And super good opportunity for the students,” Camila agreed.

“As long as they won’t go around putting cameras everywhere, like when during the talent thing Gregorio did.” Ludmila remarked sarcastically.

“No, they won’t do that.” Angie laughed. “But they will stream the concert, and with their sponsorship, we have been able to secure Gran Rex as our venue.”

“Why, what do you need us for?” Andres piped up. “Will we be the lightning assistants or waiters?”

“No Andres,” Pablo laughed, “We were just getting to that. You know that even with all of your big efforts last year, we are still working on getting our attendance back to what they were in Antonio’s time. So all the faculty have agreed that we should have guest performers. It would help with the promotion and recruitment next year. The students actually suggested that it would be you guys.”

“So, would you be willing to perform and host our Christmas showcase?” Angie completed the proposal.

“WHAT? Of course!” Violetta was the first one to react, “You agree guys, right?”

“Of course!” Federico answered

“Anything for the studio,” Ludmila nodded.

“So what kind of thing are we supposed to perform?” Naty had already her notebook open?

“Yes, we already talked about it with Pablo,” Angie continued. “The concert will be a full-length performance with an intermission. At least three hours long. We would want all of you to do about six numbers, a classic group number, then a solo by someone, and the students especially asked that All Four You would do a number and Leon and Violetta duet. We are also working on an original song in my class that will be the closing number and we want you to perform that with the students. All the songs are supposed to be Christmas songs, but you don’t need to start working on the originals, especially since we gave you so little time. Does anyone have any ideas?”

“There is this song that I remember my mother used to sing: White Christmas.” Vilu started speaking, “That could be our duet with Leon.”

“Good,” Pablo wrote something down in his notepad.

“We have been working on a new version of an old Italian Christmas song with Diego,” Fran piped up next.

“That can be the solo,” Pablo responded.

“It is actually going to be on my next album,” Fran continued, “but I am sure my label won’t mind this being a preview.”

“I actually have been working on a new Christmas song as well,” Naty said, changing a page in her notebook. “It can be worked into a tercet. We can do it with Ludmila and Camila.”

“I love that idea!” Cami jumped to hug Naty.

“I can work a new arrangement for the group song,” Maxi said.

“And the band is of course on board!” Leon nodded.

“I can take care of the choreo,” Broduey said jumping to his feet.

“You all know I’ll be in charge of the costumes,” Ludmila crossed her arms, “Otherwise half of you are going to end up on that stage looking like an absolute mess.”

“The students will be so happy to hear that you are on board.”

“Of course!” Vilu exclaimed. “For On Beat”

“On Beat!” Everyone yelled

#2022 Writing DCLA+ advent calendar #Violetta #Leonetta #Diecesca #Fedemila #NAxi #Christmas concert

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 3 years

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Dream SMP Recap (March 5/2021) - Ponk’s Warning

Foolish has another encounter with Ponk, who attempts to persuade him to the Egg’s side. Ponk gives Foolish a time: five days. Foolish needs to prepare.

Tubbo, Ranboo, Fundy and Phil, meanwhile, get into the usual family drama, especially concerning Michael.

---

VOD LINKS:

Ponk

Foolish

Tubbo

Philza

Fundy

Ranboo

Captain Puffy

---

- Ponk is in the Egg Room. He laments that everything has been taken from him. His cat, already dead, taken by Puffy. Sam? All he cares about his money and getting good at chess apparently.

- At least he has Starbucks...and the Egg. He says he’s warming up to it.

- Maybe he should’ve killed Fran, sacrificed her to the Egg?

- Ponk speaks with Foolish, makes many wooden shovels, and eventually starts dropping TNT on him, asking for Netherite.

- Ponk declares war on Foolish. Blood, tears, and explosions, in that order. He gets out the Master Oogway music.

Ponk: “When the cherry blossoms fall from the tree, you know the time has come, alright? Foolish, your land will ascend into beauty by the power of the Vines! Foolish, embrace it! Embrace it, it makes you feel good!”

“Foolish, look...listen to me, okay? When I had nothing, when I was at my lowest, I thought I could turn to my friends. But I realized that...friends? They let you down, okay? They will turn their back on you when your time of need is there, when it was most important for you, when you were at your most vulnerable.”

“Foolish...this isn’t about me. This is about how great the Egg is, okay? Look, Foolish...Blood and fire! Blood and fire, okay? I’ve warned you.”

Foolish: “I’ll find a way to help you.”

Ponk: “The Egg? It made me see the lighter side of life. When you join the Egg, everyone is the same! You don’t have to be careful about what people think about you, because all you think about is the Egg! So Foolish...join us or be taken from us, Foolish. I’m giving you options. I’m hurt, I’m hurt, okay?”

Foolish: “Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t be with you on this one.”

...

(Ponk switches the music)

...

Ponk: “Foolish...I am giving you five days! Five days, Foolish!”

- Ponk laughs with the voice of the Egg.

“Foolish...Foolish!”

Foolish: “Am I talking to Ponk or someone else right now?”

“We know where you live!”

- Ponk’s voice goes back to normal. He asks for the trident. They bicker a bit, but the warning goes back to five days: the 10th of March.

- Foolish leaves.

- Back at the Temple of Undying, Foolish clears off the Blood Vines from his statue.

Foolish: “Ponk did warn me earlier...and it seems like Ponk has lost a bit more of himself. He’s aligning more and more with the Egg, which is a sad thing to see. But he said five days -- five days from now, they’ll come for me.”

- Foolish plans to prepare, perhaps adding more wards, guards, maybe even a more powerful statue. One that could touch the clouds.

Foolish: “I still have tricks up my sleeve...but that being said, the Egg might also still have tricks up their sleeve, and maybe it’s a game of chess now."

- Maybe he could raise an army.

- He burns the shreds in the blue soul fire. Five days to prepare, and make ready for whatever will happen.

- Tubbo and Ranboo create a room for Michael in Tubbo’s attic.

- They go down to the Egg Room bunker. Tubbo asks Ranboo for an Egg update.

- Tubbo asks if they should break it. Ranboo explains that the Egg damages you.

- Tubbo is about to break open the Egg to see what’s inside but is stopped when he finds out that Tommy is trying to ratio Obama.

- Tubbo finds out that the Egg hurts you by breaking blocks himself.

- They leave the bunker and finish the room.

- Fundy goes to the Arctic with plans to make a slowly expanding dirt shack.

- Ranboo and Phil catch him. He says he came there because he misses them.

- Phil gets mad at Fundy about the Butcher Army.

- Phil is a Ranboo apologist

- Tubbo goes “whee” and whales on Fundy with an axe to quench his thirst for blood.

- Tubbo gets Fundy to climb a tall tower of scaffolding with the task to jump into a block of water to gain a quarter of his stuff back each time as Tubbo, Ranboo and Phil shoot at him with arrows.

Fundy asks why Tubbo must play such cruel games to get his stuff back. Tubbo says he’s bored, and it’s for his own sick enjoyment.

Ranboo: “Is this what hunting is?”

Tubbo: “Yeah, people go hunting for foxes, except they have horses.”

- They consider showing Fundy Michael.

- Hannah’s house has been covered in Blood Vines.

- Phil scolds Fundy again, but says he’ll deal with Tubbo later.

- Phil’s only biological son is Wilbur, everyone else just calls him “dad.”

- They show Fundy Michael in Snowchester.

- Tubbo says he’s wearing Dream’s armor. Phil throws him a Manberg shield, saying he “might as well complete the set.”

- Fundy asks if they’ve told Techno yet. Ranboo realizes oh, that’s not going to go over well...

- Fundy and Phil criticize Tubbo and Ranboo’s parenting techniques.

Ranboo: “Fundy, remind me again what experience you have with parents?”

- Tubbo kills Fundy and Fundy threatens to kill Michael if they don’t give back his stuff.

- Fundy notices his armor is missing from the chest. Phil was keeping it to see if Fundy would kill Michael. Phil gives Fundy’s armor back but Fundy notices Phil kept Shclatt.

- A snow fox drowns by accident and Phil gives Fundy back his sword as he goes to leave. Why does everything around him die?

- As Fundy leaves, he sets off a creeper.

Phil: “Runs in the family.”

Fundy: “FAMILY -- YOU ACKNOWLEDGED THAT I’M PART OF THE F-- WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?”

Phil: “Shiiiiit -- nothing, you didn’t do anything wrong!”

Fundy: “WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?”

Fundy: “Philll! I love you grandpa!”

Phil: “Ugh, Jesus.”

- After Phil logs off, Fundy goes back to the Arctic to resume his plan.

---

Upcoming Events:

- Quackity’s business opening

- Technoblade’s lore stream

- Puffy’s lore streams (Origin story Sunday)

- March 10th

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts

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ororowrites · 3 years

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Scripted - Yahya x Black OC

Sweet Thang- Chapter 3

One-shot: By the Open Fire

Chapters: 1 2

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2,003

Two months later

Candace finished her last night at Dynasty and vowed to never return. She had collected enough money to support the remaining tuition payments, graduation fees and the application fee for Yale’s School of Drama. March had snuck upon her and her application was due in a month for the 2012-2013 school term. The process was daunting because this was the only M.F.A program she planned to apply to and she prayed this wasn’t a mistake. Yale was her dream school and though she was the type to have a plan B, C and Z, she was gambling on her resume and audition tapes.

Yahya had already made one visit to Los Angeles, since he met Candace at Dynasty. He was collecting unemployment and attending acting classes to get more experience to add to his resume. They had talked about his plan moving forward and Yahya was enjoying acting so much, he planned to apply to Yale as well. Candace had convinced him to live a little and follow his heart and talent. Even if his application was denied, he would have the experience and could apply to another program. During their acting class, Candace was surprised by Yahya’s natural talent in theatre. He deeply connected with the scripts and scenarios and she was in awe of how he could change his entire persona to fit the character. Candace wouldn’t admit it, but her attraction to Yahya was growing. Not only was he physically attractive, but his sensitivity and thoughtfulness made him appealing. He was also attracted to Candace and took his time getting to know her, while also respecting her space after her breakup.

Another acting coach was in town and Yahya made the trip to LA to attend a session with Candace. It had been two weeks since his last visit and he was eager to get into another class and spend time with his friend. They decided to meet at Candace’s apartment and ride to their class together.

“Do you think this man will make us cry on cue or what,” Candace joked, flipping on her turn signal to take the exit off the expressway.

“It’s called the Degree of Emotion, I’m sure we’re crying in this class,” Yahya chuckled, scrolling through his email for job postings. Right now, he was living off of unemployment and his savings, he would need a job sooner rather than later.

“I can’t cry on cue. It takes a bit of coaching to get me there. Hopefully this class can give me some pointers,” Candace revealed.

Dr. Ben Mayer, renowned acting coach to many in the industry and professor at Julliard, was standing in the middle of the stage when the students arrived. As they walked into the class, he recited an excerpt from the Odyssey. His heavy voice carried throughout the theatre, capturing everyone’s attention before they reached their seats. Yahya grabbed Candace’s hand, helping her down the dark theatre stairs and to the front row.

“Welcome to the Degree of Emotion. I’m Dr. Ben Mayer, your instructor for today. Please use the first two rows. Don’t be shy, I don’t bite,” the instructor ordered, pointing to the empty seats in front of the stage. “Today, I’ll be working with you on how to convey emotion with your voice, body language and expressions. Many that come into this field think showing emotion is only about crying or showing sadness onscreen or onstage. Emotion is more than that though. Anyone can be trained to cry on cue but what about that makes you feel like the character you’re portraying. Are you stepping into your character’s shoes or simply putting on a hat? Stepping into the shoes is more powerful and more fulfilling than putting on a hat. You walk in shoes and feel them out. So, I’m going to teach you how to do that.”

For the second half of the class, the group split up into groups of two and practiced different scripts. Dr. Mayer watched each group and offered criticism and advice. Candace was in Yahya’s group and they were supposed to be performing a piece about a couple who hit a rough patch. She felt good about this particular script because of her recent breakup but to her surprise, her performance fell flat for Dr. Mayer. He told her she was wearing a hat instead of stepping into Charlotte’s shoes and she had a lot to work on when it came to emotional acting.

That criticism stuck with Candace and ate at her for the remainder of the class. The second half of the course was in three weeks, where they would perform their scenes in front of their peers.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Yahya proposed as they walked to a near-by coffee shop.

“I can handle criticism. It’s being told I don’t convey emotion that bugs me. No instructor has ever said that and here I am trying to get into Yale not conveying enough fuckin’ emotion,” Candace spat between her teeth. Being a perfectionist ended up being her downfall in many things. She believed in being perfect at her crafts, which is how she ended up in extra acting classes outside of her regular theatre courses. “Are my emotions not believable, Yah?”

“That’s coming from one instructor. We all have different ways of approaching this acting thing. But if you want to work on it, I’m here for a couple of more days. We can practice. No biggie.”

“I don’t know why I’m this bothered about this shit. But I’m going to give his ass emotion next time,” she promised, tossing her curls behind her ear.

-------

Trinity was out studying with some friends, leaving the apartment free for acting practice and a late brunch. Yahya was on fruit duty, while Candace made waffles and turkey bacon.

“What do you think is holding you back,” Yahya questioned, glancing over at his acting partner who was concentrating on whisking the lumps out of her pancake mix.

“Fear of failure. I think too much when it comes to certain scenes and end up closing myself off,” she replied after a few long seconds of silence. “That’s my only explanation. After all that stuff with Maxwell, it got worse, I guess.”

“I did this class in San Fran and the instructor had us doing meditation before we got to the acting. Maybe you can try that when you have those hard scenes. It helped me because I get too into my own head at times, too,” he offered, wiping his hands on a towel. “For now.... I need you to relax.”

Once Candace felt Yahya’s strong hands on her shoulders, she could have melted into a puddle in the middle of the kitchen floor. He massaged the tense muscles and rested his chin on top of her head. She hummed in relief, leaning back into his big body.

“Instead of thinking about how you can hide Dr. Mayer’s body, think about how you can prove him wrong. Put all that anger into Charlotte because she needs you in order to come alive.”

“Okay,” Candace sighed.

“Let’s try meditation first,” he suggested, leading Candace to the living room. “Try to get you nice and relaxed before we start.”

They meditated for ten minutes before returning to the kitchen to clear up counter space.

“Ready?” Yahya nodded towards his scene partner and earned a nervous nod in response.

Charlotte and Tyreik - TAKE ONE

“You’ve changed, Ty. Changed in ways you may not realize but I see it. Hell, I feel it too. When we supposedly make love and you aren’t present...you fill me up but you feel empty,” Candace spoke, shifting her weight from hip to hip. Playing Charlotte made her nervous for some reason. Maybe it was her own fear of opening up to another man after having her heart stomped to pieces by Maxwell. Like Charlotte, she no longer wanted to be a doormat to anyone, especially the opposite sex.

“You sure you even know how to feel anymore,” Yahya replied, pretending to cut invisible vegetables on the cutting board.

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t stand here and tell me you feel a thing, Char. I’ve been trying to talk to you about our relationship for months. But you’re always busy or too tired. So yeah....I’ve changed.”

The conversation was similar to one she had with Maxwell, except the roles were reversed. Like Yahya suggested, she dug deeper to find that spark that would turn on the switch.

“Because you talk at me. Yelling isn’t talking and it won’t get my attention,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes. “And the only reason you’re even talking is because you feel guilty.”

Yahya slammed his hands against the the cold, marble countertop, causing Candace to flinch. “Are we still stuck on that shit? I apologized, you accepted, it’s done. Stop bringing up old shit to hide your own insecurities.”

“We.... then why are we pretending this is what we both want? If we’re this unhappy, why are we doing this,” she mumbled, her eyes falling down to her feet.

“I don’t know. Maybe because we’re both afraid to let go of what’s familiar to us. I’m your first love and you’re my first long time relationship. Hard to let go of something you worked hard to keep going all these years.”

Dig deep, Candace. Thinking back to how she felt about Maxwell and his unborn child, Candace’s eyes began to water. “I want this to work, Ty. I really do,” she sniffed. Yahya’s eyes met hers and he tried to stay in character but he couldn’t hide how proud he was the moment he saw his advice working for Candace.

“I do too. But you have to let go of shit if you claim you forgive me,” Yahya moved in closer, letting Candace know they were close to the kissing scene.

“I’ll try,” she offered, her big, brown orbs searching his looking for a hint of Yahya. He rarely broke character, but there was an extra gleam in his eyes. This was the first time they had done anything outside of hugging. Yahya was respecting Candace’s space and allowing her to heal after her recent breakup.

Her heart beat violently against her chest when Yahya’s cologne flooded her senses. His lips became Candace’s main focus as he closed the space between them and placed his mouth on hers. The kiss was brazen, making Candace’s knees weak. Yahya placed his hands on the counter, caging in Candace’s small frame. His 6′3 frame towered over her, forcing him to duck his head down to deepen the kiss when her tongue slid past his. Since that night at the club, he had been waiting to kiss Candace’s lips. Just as he thought, they were as soft as pillows and the urge to take things to the next level invaded his thoughts.

Heat rose to Candace’s cheeks before spreading down to her belly, meeting the butterflies that were already dancing. Their scripts were long forgotten and they were well past the point of blaming their actions on their characters. Candace’s fingers toyed with the hem of Yahya’s shirt. They were both breathless when they pulled a part and Candace didn’t give Yahya time to catch his thoughts before her lips were back on his, fighting for dominance. Yahya’s shirt ended up on the kitchen floor, exposing his sculpted but slender mid-section. It was dangerous, yet neither one of them stopped it. The sexual tension had been strong from the moment they met and given the current circumstances, it was boiling over. From the slight touches and long gazes, hormones were bound to get them in this predicament. Yahya’s lips left hers and traveled to her neck, where they stayed, creating love bites.

“Do you want me to stop,” he questioned, his baritone causing a vibration between their bodies. The thumping between her ears and thumping between her legs had Candace’s mind swimming in circles.

Sorry for the wait and short chapter. We will get A LOT more Yahya and Candace in the next one though!

taglist: @blackburnbook @emjayewrites @just-peachee @chaneajoyyy

#yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya abdul mateen ii fanfics #yahya abdul mateen x black oc #black oc #black writers #ororo writes

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seldnei · 3 years

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taking stock of 2020

For any new followers: this is my annual post about my writing in the past year. This is purely for my own mental health--the tag says “seldnei is tired of feeling like a slacker” for a reason. Please feel free to skip.

Okay, so what did I accomplish in 2020?

Well, first note: I AM ALIVE AND EVERYTHING ELSE IS FUCKING ICING.

In 2019 I was having issues getting my shit together. I had literally just started feeling like I had my feet under me when Covid hit, and … I dunno. Pandemic brain was an issue, but also I re-evaluated what I feel makes me “successful.” In general, writing-career-wise, I feel pretty happy with where I am. Sure, I’d like to publish more, and of course I’d love to be able to afford to write full-time, but if I died (which was a scarily plausible idea this year) I don’t think I’d have very many regrets in that area.

BUT. My idea of “success” does have to do with doing the work. Maybe I won’t become a NYT bestseller, but my self-image as a writer depends on actually writing things and finishing them, and that did not happen as much as I wanted it to this year. There are, absolutely, legitimate reasons for that. I’m trying very hard not to beat myself up over it.

I did do some things. Sometimes it was like pulling teeth, but I did do some things.

The Novel:

Oh, man, this is the thing I did not do. I just … stopped querying agents entirely. And unlike my decision re: short stories (see below), this was not a conscious choice on my part. I just didn’t do it. I think it just became Too Much to be sending queries into the ether when I was also wondering if I was going to catch this virus/trying to pivot my day job to remote work/dealing with Z’s online school.

I did do the query letter class on Reedsy, which was pretty good.

I’m not sure what I want to do with the book. I feel very stuck. One thing I’m considering is scraping some cash together for an editing pass from a freelance editor, just to see if the whole thing really sucks or if it’s just my brain being overwhelmed.

Not sure how my feelings about my career (above) fit into this, either. It is a big tangle in my brain at the moment.

Short Stories

I specifically decided in … February? March? Just before lockdown, anyway … that I would spend 2020 focusing on writing rather than submitting (the exception to this was FUCKIT). So not many submissions went out last year. I also didn’t get as many stories drafted or revised as I’d hoped, but whatever.

I finished a Teachouts story—with camels!—and tried outlining for the first time, which went pretty well. It’s another long one, and needs revising, but I like it a lot. I got to watch a lot of camel videos for it, and research the camel corps (the US military looked into using camels instead of donkeys/mules in the southwest).

I wrote a self-indulgent ghost story and put it on the blog.

I also wrote an Orpheus/Eurydice story for FUCKIT that I think of as “trailer trash Eurydice,” because I imagine her telling him the story in their tiny little trailer that they’ve got illegally parked in the mountains somewhere.

“Primary Manifestations” came out in October in Stories We Tell After Midnight vol 2. Upon reading it in print, I immediately found a giant continuity error that I, two betas, and the editor all missed. Ah, well, such is life.

Miscellany

I wrote 3 poems: “Instructions for Quarantine,” “Christmas 2020,” and “Stopping by Jolene’s on a Snowy Evening,” which is a mashup of exactly what you think it is. I keep debating putting it on Tumblr.

I did a reading on Instagram! And people came! My mother had to hear me say “fuck,” like, a lot!

Wrote 3 pieces for FUCKIT, and finished a draft of the 4th thing (which is currently resting before revisions). FUCKIT, by the way, has been one of my two saving graces this year, keeping me writing even when I was lost in pandemic fog.

Journaled all goddamned year; my other saving grace. I took Fran Wilde’s creative journaling class at the Rambo Academy in January, and started keeping a paper journal again shortly after. AND HOLY CATS DID I NEED IT.

Blogged, as per usual. Actually a bit more than usual, during quarantine.

So. Many. Notes. Indentured servant demons notes. Incremental apocalypse notes. Mad Scientist’s Daughter notes Urban fantasy notes (this one would be a story called “The Curse of the Spider Queen” which is an amazing title, right?).

Finished two Cat Rambo classes! And bought 4 more, god help me.

Goals for 2021

Survival

Like, obviously general survival.

Also surviving this grad program while still writing. I have my writing goals for the first 3-4 months of 2021 mapped out in my planner, and I’m determined. I am really, really sick of feeling like a slacker—which is why I started these annual reflective posts 5 years ago, so maybe it bodes well.

Revisions

FUCKIT thing

Camel story

Train story (I have editorial comments from a reject for that one)

Start submitting again

Write 1 short story (probably the Spider Queen story)

Sort out the novel stuff

Finish 1 Cat Rambo class

More notes on all the stories!

Update the blog because I just went there for links and, wow, I have some housekeeping to do, yikes.

#state of the writing #seldnei is tired of feeling like a slacker #seldnei writes things #2020 writing

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frazzledsoul · 3 years

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Thanks for tagging me @dollsome-does-tumblr even though I haven't written fic in a gazillion years.

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!

The first thing that hit Rory Gilmore when she woke up was an overwhelming sense of vertigo.

The migraine was encroaching on the borders of her skull soon followed.

Where was she?

(The Morning After, Gilmore Girls, post series, Rory/Jess, or what happens when two not-quite-stepcousins hook up and everyone in Stars Hollow debates whether they should be encouraging this or not)

The first time they tried a real relationship again, it was a disaster.

He hadn't seen or talked to her for five years. Part of him regretted that a little, but she did say no, and he knew he had to start fresh if he was going to make any sort of clean break from the family legacy that had claimed him long before he was born.

(The Dynastic Plan, Gilmore Girls, AYITL era, Rory/Logan, or Logan explains to us why he could not get his shit together with Rory during AYITL)

Luke first noticed that something was amiss when he picked April up from the airport.

It was the middle of spring and she was wearing a turtleneck, a baseball cap, and sunglasses. When he asked her about it, she shrugged and claimed she thought that Connecticut was having a late winter spell, which didn’t sound right to him at all.

(The Cactus Incident, Gilmore Girls, post-series, in which Luke learns about the avian misadventures of one of his offspring)

“This has gotten completely out of control.”

Lorelai glanced up at her husband from where she was sequestered at her usual table by the window, surrounded by her laptop, piles of eclipse glasses in various colors, assorted boxes and tubes sprinkled in glitter and confetti, and a pile of streamers that had half fallen to the floor.

“This is a major celestial event, Luke”, Lorelai insisted. “A once in a lifetime opportunity to escape the daily drudgery of life to celebrate standing in the middle of the street for two hours and looking at the sky while we are treated to the spectacle of the universe pretending to usher in the doomsday a way too significant portion of the population are eagerly anticipating at any given moment –“

Luke put up his hand. “I get it.”

(A Convergence of Fancies, Gilmore Girls, Rory/Jess overtones I guess, post-AYITL, or Stars Hollow celebrates the 2017 solar eclipse, Rory is a sleep deprived new mom, and Lorelai is concerned because her family is watching too much Game of Thrones, aka the most chaotic thing I have ever written and I'm sorry)

Richard Lucas Gilmore’s second Independence Day celebration was turning out to be a lot better than his first.

For one thing, he was actually awake for it.

Rory’s pregnancy had stretched a week and a half past its original due date, leading to the delivery of her squalling bundle of joy on a humid June morning after fifteen hours of labor.

(Independence, Gilmore Girls, post-AYITL, in which Luke and Lorelai celebrate Independence Day with their combined offspring and toddler grandson and Lorelai confronts her impending empty nest syndrome)

Lorelai had thought that sending Rory off into the adult world would make her feel like her heart was being ripped out of her chest.

She had been dreading it for days, weeks, maybe even years. Despite what everyone had told her when she was a newly knocked-up teenager, she still felt that those first eighteen years raising Rory as she grew up herself had been the easy part.

(Full Circle, Gilmore Girls, post-series, in which Lorelai and Rory go through the same major milestones at the same time)

The fall of 2017 was turning out to be quite a revelation for Lorelai Gilmore-Danes.

She had never loved fall quite as much as she loved winter. Sure, there was the crispness wrought by the change of seasons and the concurrent excuse to shop for brightly colored sweaters and boots.

(The Grandparents, Gilmore Girls, Luke/Lorelai, post-AYITL, or Rory's love triangle and parenting woes as seen through Luke and Lorelai's eyes)

Few enterprises seemed to be designed with a specific target in mind quite as much as Facebook was for Lorelai Gilmore.

It caught her a little by surprise. Sure, she knew the basics of using a computer to run her business and control her finances. She could be disciplined and organized when she absolutely needed to be, and there was little use in clinging to outdated technology.

(Boundaries, Gilmore Girls, Luke/Lorelai, post-AYITL, or Luke and Lorelai try to rebuild their relationship and are very angsty about it)

Luke and Lorelai's third Valentines Day as a married couple started in the usual way.

It was usually their tradition to spend the holiday at home, but this year they had departed for Luke's cabin on the lake to spend a few days by themselves before the rest of the family joined them on Sunday. It was a beloved, time-honored tradition between the two of them to devote this day to each other to celebrate with their own brand of fanfare. Their adult children knew to stay very far away from them during this time.

(A Season of Peace, Luke/Lorelai and Rory/Logan, post-AYITL, in which Luke and Lorelai spend a weekend in the snow with their brood and we get an update on the younger generations's relationship statuses)

"Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm pregnant."

She turned to face me. Gap-mouthed. Shocked. Disappointed. Humiliated.

This was not how I planned to share this news.

(A Simple Twist of Fate, Gilmore Girls, AU but fairly canon adjacent, in which Jess is Rory's baby daddy and Rory discovers that he has not exactly been solely pining for her in the years they were apart)

Jess didn't exactly intend to introduce his daughter to professional sports in this manner.

For the most part, he and Rory weren't quite the stereotypical thirtysomething hipster couple that they sometimes appeared to be. Sure, Rory was still occasionally breast-feeding after seven and a half months, and you could find quinoa and kimchi in their fridge stocked next to the baby food and hoagies.

(Home, post-AYITL, Rory/Jess, a "fast forward" of ASTOF in which Rory and Jess raise their daughter in Philadelphia and try to avoid admitting that they are no longer hip)

Lorelai Gilmore's journey to becoming an active participant in Stars Hollow town life was a bumpy one.

She stepped off of the bus in Stars Hollow a few months after her eighteenth birthday, freshly divorced and clutching her almost two-year-old daughter by the hand, determined to talk herself into whatever opportunity presented itself to her. She wasn't able to work on her charms on Taylor Doose at the grocery store, or Fran Weston at the bakery, but William Danes at the hardware store gave her directions to the inn at the outskirts of town and an offer to work the counter at his store if things didn't work out.

(Beginnings, Gilmore Girls, pre-series/AU, Luke/Lorelai, in which Lorelai and Luke's parenting situations are reversed: she and Christopher are divorced and he is involved in Rory's life but Luke is raising April by himself after Anna flaked out, and they start to bond)

Lorelai Gilmore Danes didn't expect to have empty nest syndrome hit her quite like this.

She'd spent much of her adult life – even long before she was technically an adult – tethered to Rory's side and not regretting a second of it. Then Rory was grown up and off exploring the world, and she was settled down with Luke in their unconventional but happily domestic manner.

(Glimpses Through the Looking Glass, Gilmore Girls, drabble series that goes all over the place based on #NationalFillInTheBlankDay)

Ted and Robin's seemingly long-awaited reconciliation lasted just short of six months.

Five months, three weeks, and two days, to be exact. Not that anyone was counting, least of all Robin.

(Making It Easy, How I Met Your Mother, Barney/Robin, post-series, in which Robin figures out that dating a widowed Ted is actually a very bad idea)

In the end, it was decided that the best way to resolve the battle for the Iron Throne was to dissolve it completely.

It had been a savage war, far more savage than any of its players had fought up to this point. Euron and Cersei were dead.

(The Calm, Game of Thrones, post-series but written halfway through season 8 so it doesn't include any of the stuff that people hate, in which I come up with a solution to the Jonerys dilemma that no one liked but it was still better than canon)

Summer finally bloomed beyond the wall five years after Jon Snow had crossed it for the last time.

Sometimes it seemed to him that everything before those five years was nothing more than a half-remembered dream. He had braced for his departure for the wall half-hopeful: at least this grand march towards kingship, the burden of unwanted responsibilities, the dread in his chest as he wondered if he would survive to the end of the latest war was over.

(After, Game of Thrones, post-series, Jon/Tormund, or in which Jon Snow is living happily ever after beyond the wall with his ginger, his dog, and a family of his own because I am in charge and I say so)

“You’re still shit at that, you know,” Tormund whispered in Jon’s ear.

Magritte snickered from the other corner of the main room of their cabin where she was roughhousing with Ghost. Alsi sighed beside her, picking up her bow from where it was lying beside her and inspecting it for flaws.

(The Line, Game of Thrones, post-series, Jon/Tormund, in which Jon is still living happily ever after but takes his family to visit Queen Sansa)

The images solidified in Jaime’s mind as he made his way through the streets.

Charred skeletons. Screaming children. Rampaging soldiers. Blood. Smoke. Mangled limbs. Chaos. He couldn’t keep any of it straight.

(The Lion and the Snow - Snapshots, Game of Thrones, AU, Jaime/Brienne, in which Jon is King, Jaime is the Hand Without A Hand, Brienne is the Lady Commander of the Kingsguard, they are all disasters, and I am not telling this story in order)

Tormund didn’t intend to get seriously involved with anyone when he moved to King’s Landing.

It had been a rough couple of years. Hell, the entire last decade had been its own special blend of unexpected pleasure and slow, turgid, relentless episodes of confusion and pain. That was adulthood, he supposed. Always one damn thing after another.

(The Dragon Heist, Game of Thrones, modern AU, in which single dad Tormund - Brienne is his baby mama - falls in love with art student Jon Snow and there are lots of coparenting shenanigans)

Patterns: Gee, I like to start these stories off with long, complicated explanations of everyone's relationship status.

Favorites: I guess that would be starting off The Morning After with Rory half-horrified at what she has gotten into. I also like dropping right in on Jonmund domesticity in The Line.

Tagging: @fineosaur, @seethemflying, @aliveanddrunkonsunlight, @janiedean, @angel-deux-writes, @littlerockerao3, @istaricelebelasse, @tormundjonthings, @sdwolfpup, and anyone else who feels like it (apologies if y'all have already been tagged)

#mine #fanfiction #thinking about writing again for the first time in ages

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alloftheimagines · 4 years

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billy hargrove | heaven-sent | part nine

masterlist | series | part eight

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, anxiety, angst, arguing

words: 820+

summary: she’s an angel. he may as well be the devil. one would not exist without the other.

"God, what am I doing?" Frances asks. She and Billy have been sat on the floor for an immeasurable amount of time, and her muscles are beginning to cramp. She had needed his comfort so much earlier that she hadn't thought about it. Now, the haze of anxiety was easing enough for her to think clearly, and the memory of last night begins to torture her until sitting in Billy's arms no longer feels right.

She pulls herself up from him, leaving him to sit with his back against the dresser alone. He watches intently as she smooths out her clothes and wipes the smudged mascara from under her eyes.

"You tell me," he responds lowly.

"I don't know why I keep doing this. I mean, you're Billy fucking Hargrove, and I keep falling apart in front of you like an idiot. You must eat this shit up."

He frowns, pulling himself up slowly. "You think I'm enjoying this?"

"I don't know," Frances shrugs, pacing into the living room so she can distance herself from him. "It's something to laugh about with your friends, right? The chief's daughter is a freak, had a panic attack right in front of you, not to mention she's fucking adopted and her eyes change colour."

"Jesus, Fran, is that really what you think of me?" He's still tired, though no longer drunk, and his denim jeans hang off him from spending so long in them.

"I don't know. None of this makes sense to me." She can't look at him anymore. What he must think of her after the things he'd seen. "I ... I need to go find my dad. You're welcome to take a nap while I'm gone, but you probably shouldn't be here when I get back."

He rolls his eyes, grabbing his denim jacket aggressively and marching past her with heavy footsteps. "Don't worry, angel. I know when I'm not welcome."

"Billy—"

He places his hand on the door, scowling at her as he turns. "Save it. I can't take this hot an' cold thing. You want me gone? I'm gone."

"Billy, wait," she pleads, causing him to freeze. "Just ... Please don't tell anyone about what you saw. Please."

This earns a scoff that's filled with hatred hatred. "Please, angel. Don't flatter yourself. I won't waste another second talkin' about you at all."

With that, he leaves, slamming the door behind him. Frances flinches at the sound, closing her eyes as her stomach fills with regret—whether it is for pushing him away or letting him too close to begin with, she doesn't know.

* * *

Hopper's car isn't on Joyce's drive, and neither is Jonathan's. Any hope of talking to either of them is gone the moment that Frances reaches the Byers'. Still, she knocks on the door timidly, unsurprised when Joyce is the one to answer. She is surprised by the state of her though, with wide, fear-filled eyes and a slight tremble to her fingers as she holds the door open reluctantly.

"Frances," she greets, her eyes darting from Frances to the empty drive. "Jonathan isn't home right now, sweetie."

"That's okay. I was hoping that maybe you might have seen my dad this morning. I can't find him anywhere."

"You just missed him, actually," she says, causing Frances to breathe a sigh of relief. "He, uh, had a case to get to. I'm sure he'll be home later on."

Joyce is already closing the door, and Frances has to put her foot in the threshold to stop her completely. "Wait, Joyce."

Joyce shuffles impatiently, widening the door only slightly. It's clear she wants her gone, just like everyone else she's talked to today.

"My father, was he with anyone?"

Frances watches carefully for a reaction, but if she thought there was a chance that Joyce ever had an inkling about El, she knows it's impossible now. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Like who? Officer Callahan?"

"No ... Never mind." She shakes her head. "Is everything okay? Y'know, with Will?"

"Everything's fine, he's just a little under the weather," she reassures, though her smile doesn't meet her eyes. She hasn't seen her this nervous since last year, and the thought makes her stomach twist. "Listen, I'm a little busy—"

"No, yeah. Sorry to bother you," she swallows, taking a step back. "Just ... if you see Hop, tell him to call me or something. I'll be at the trailer."

"I'll tell him, honey." She gives a wave and has shut the door before Frances has time to thank her.

Despite the fact that Frances knows her father is at least still in Hawkins, she can't help but feel dread gnawing at her. Something is wrong, something worse than what has already happened today, and until she finds her father—if she can still call him that at all—she has no idea how to right it. All she can do is continue treading through Hawkins, cold, numb, and alone.

part ten

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icehaloed · 3 years

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Iris Village, September X791

Dear Mother,

to verify that is truly me who is writing and not an imposter, I have taken the liberty of including a small vial of my blood. That is why I addressed this first letter to you only, mama, so dad does not faint ( unless he has grown more resistant to the sight of it? ). While you wait for Frans, let me tell you how much I missed you and dad. There has not been a day when I did not think of you, of Dina or Anders or Frans. And words cannot say how sorry I am for hurting both of you like that, even though I know that no words can undo the pain I caused you. I did not want to hurt you, just like I did not do it to run away. You raised me better than that.

You must be wishing for an explanation, but there is not much I can tell you for I myself have not yet figured it out fully --- as far as I know, I should be as good as dead. As happy as I am to be not, to be alive, it vexes me that I have no good explanation as to why I am --- back. According to all prior calculations, I should not have woken up on a deserted beach, I should have moved to a greater beyond, I suppose. I am here, in possession of a body and a mostly sound mind. I am here, and some days, this is almost too much to bear.

Please don’t misunderstand me --- I wouldn’t trade my being back for anything in the world, but the old ghosts still plague me even as I slowly recover. It takes time to heal from what has happened. You told me this before, but why is it taking me so long? Why is it still difficult to get out of bed sometimes, even when I know that I am on a deadline? In the past, this pressure was what kept me limping along, but all I ever seem to do now is nap and work and nap more. That being said, I am not alone so you mustn’t worry about me starving ( because what kind of way out would that be now, all things considered? ). Forgive my callous humour, dad always liked it better than you, I know.

I . . . have been catching up on matters since my, hm, return. There is a library that keeps newspapers on file and though I doubt their intended purpose is for someone who missed as much as I did to find out what the state of the world is, I can be found here a lot. Libraries have a grounding effect, much like gardens and I don’t suppose I will be able to grow much before the winter comes. I did buy some kitchen herbs, however! I have little hope that they will live long, but maybe they will surprise me with their fortitude.

To circle back to the purpose of my letter, I cannot say I am pleased with how the council has dealt with my actions, and I know in my heart that you must hate it as well. They did not deserve to preside over my actions like this, to give them a ‘deeper’ meaning when, as far as I am concerned, my intentions were quite obvious: nobody was doing anything and I could not let my students die. Especially the former, that nobody was doing anything, still causes me to grit my teeth. It is difficult to keep my temper in check, not to march to Era and demand explanations. I would be too late, I know, considering what has happened a few days ago.

To address this is a letter seems risky, but I cannot withhold this information from you in good conscience: my daughter, thought dead and grieved so dearly, is alive. I hope you were sitting because this information knocked me off my feet, and I still doubt that I have fully computed it. What I feel most is anger, anger that she was stolen from me and that I believed her to be dead instead of trying harder, anger that she was hurt by the people I entrusted her to and that I could not do anything to protect her. Isn’t it funny? Saints are supposed to be forgiving and peaceful, but all I can feel is burning anger whenever my thoughts brush this topic. I have not yet been able to see her, to see her grown and alive, but I know that this will be difficult for me.

And yet! I am curious, mama, how things have been on your end. I know that I have not been very good at keeping in touch with you and dad in the months leading up to Brago, but I hope you believe me that you were in my thoughts a lot and that it was the difficulty of picking up a pen to write that kept me from keeping you updated as opposed to any . . . willfulness on my part. Writing letters is still difficult, I think. Fortunately, I do not depend on my skills as a writer at the moment as I am plenty busy with repairing the cottage ( I hope I have fixed all the walls before winter comes ), but I believe that you will still insist on proper handwriting as opposed to print even if the typewriter was one of the first things I fixed upon getting back home; tell dad that the advice he gave me all those years back was very useful.

My hand is cramping very badly so I must leave it at that for today, --- love, U.

#▌█ ❄▐ ' narration.#long post #▌█ 𝓿▐ ' TIMELINE: PRESENT.#time for the usual suspects:#mentions of death tw #mentions of depression tw

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tubofskippy · 4 years

Text

Speaking of a Book of Mormon movie, look what I just found in my notes! I only got as far as You and Me (But Mostly Me)... but I could keep going!

These were originally notes for something I was going to storyboard.

BOM THE MOVIE

Open on the actual book. Light shining on it, like a fairy tale. It opens to the nephites scene “I... am Jesus.” It’s paper animation, like how South Park is.

...

“All over the world!” Music... the book closes, and the front cover fades to the same front cover in Price’s hands.

HELLO!

Start with shots of elder price straightening his tie, name tag, running a comb through his hair.

He steps up to the door with the book in his hand. We don’t see his face yet.

Ding dong.

The door opens, and we now see his face for the first time, with a big grin, book in hand.

“Hello. My name is Elder Price.”

Song continues and cuts to different Mormons at different doors. Each doorbell has a different color door, different comedic people answering.

Sometimes there will be split frames.

Doors will be slammed in faces.

One Mormon smiles as he is about to walk up to another door, while another Mormon is being chased into the street by a dog.

Elder Cunningham buzzes a whole apartment complex. The “hello would you like to change religions” is a frame we see of him shouting through a security camera.

“NOO, NO, Elder Cunningham”

Maybe is in Arnold’s conscience? Idk.

...

“So you won’t burn in—“ One

Mormon has made a placement, but he watches angrily through the window as the person throws the book into their fireplace. “HE-HELLLOO”

The book of... MOOOOOOORMOOOON

camera pans from one door to the whole neighborhood. Title sequence. The doorbell in the word Mormon becomes part of a real door, and someone presses it for the final ding dong. The title sequence fades away.

the final HELLOOOOO could be a split frame of them waving? Like how they were on the risers?

TWO BY TWO

Takes place in the missionary training center. Looks sort of like a classroom. Their instructor is on screen, not just a voice. The boys eagerly wait in their desks.

(OR we do a Charlie Brown thing, where the instructor is never fully shown)

We start in the hallway with the 3 boys. “Do you have any idea where they’re sending you elder price?”

After “SOMETHING INCREDIBLEEEE” they run into the classroom and take their seats. They tap their fingers and bounce their legs to the faint snare roll and “tck bum. bum. tck bum. bum.”

It lasts a bit longer than in the soundtrack. Some close ups on Cunningham taking out his gum or something.

“Form a line and wait til your name is called.”

They line up against the back wall.

Once the boys start getting paired up, they dance at the front of the room. “HOO-AH... (jump on desks. Knees are bent. quick jump.) HEY-YAH, (turn away,) SHOO-WAH (turn towards each other, excitedly) ZADAP-WOW!” Unfold legs jump off of desks, go side be side and do the “TWO BY TWO” march.

.....

Kevin is in line towards the window. He stares at a religious painting on the wall.

“Heavenly Father, (then turns his attention out the window, the typical daydreaming face) where will I go on my mission?” In the window’s reflection we see the other boys come into focus and repeat “on my mission...” Kevin wistfully leans against a map on the back wall. “Will it be China or ol’ Mexico on my mission?”

San Fran by the bay... Australia where they say g’day... (he stares at the continents with romanticized wonderment)

...

“To my favorite place....” Zoom in on Price’s face. The background fades to black, spotlight on Price. He is so wishful it hurts. “ORLANDOOOO” zoom out to see his whole outstretched arm. He’s in Orlando now. A background of sea world whirls past him, a dolphin jumps over his head, the background whirls to Disney world. “GOLFIIING” He hits a put put ball towards the camera. The ball is the transition back to the classroom setting.

“ELDER PRICE!”

“YES SIR!”

...

“.....elder Cunningham!”

“THAT’S ME! THAT’S ME!” Arnold pushes desks aside to scramble to the front of the room. The noise is horrific. “hellO!”

“Your mission location will be...”

Zoom in on elder Price again, black background like his fantasy. *crossed fingers, mouthing the words orlandoorlandoorlando

“UGANDA!”

Black background quickly comes back to normal classroom.

Horrible noise. Instead of from instruments skidding, it came from Elder Cunningham pushing another desk.

Their faces are priceless.

“...Oh boy! Like Lion King!"

...

Desk dancing, evolves into marching down the hallway while high-fifing, clapping, and dancing...

“CHRIIIIII-IIIIIIIST! Of Latter Day Saints.“

They’re outside at this point. Song ends abruptly and everything carries on as normal. Price walks to the bus stop, and elder Cunningham rushes to catch up to him.

Of course he annoys Kevin. We get a taste of what this relationship is going to be like. Kevin takes measures as to avoid him on the way home.

Time passes.

YOU AND ME (BUT MOSTLY ME)

This song obviously takes place in the airport. The music starts as they’re standing in line to have their passports stamped.

…

“You’ve done an awesome job, Kevin!”

The song pauses. Cut to the woman holding up the passport photo to his face, comparing the two. “Kevin...” he sings again. Then speaks: “I’m Kevin Price, I’m nineteen. That’s not the best photo of me, I sneezed and it was like five dollars to get it retaken, so…” The woman stamps it. “Thank you.”

Cut to the airport hallways.

“Now it’s our time to go out—“

Arnold is on one of those moving walkways and slides past Kevin as he sings “MY BEST FRIIIEEND”

Kevin starts jogging to match Arnold’s pace.

“And we can do it together, you and me—“

But it seems like Price thinks of it more as a race. He reaches the end of it just before Arnold does, and stands in front of it, his bag tripping Arnold as he gets off the walkway.

“BUT MOSTLY MEEEEE!”

Kevin happily skips towards a Kiosk. “You and me but mostly me—“ He snatches a newspaper, “...are gonna change the world forever.” He runs towards the wall, where there’s an interactive screen. "Cuz I can do most anything—“ On the screen, there’s a camera projecting whoever stands in front of it, so basically, there’s a big Kevin on the wall. Cunningham enters the frame, farther away from the screen. “And I can stand next to you and watch!” Kevin messes around with filters on the screen, the first one being a hero, and the second one being a captain.

Cut to a restaurant they’re eating at.

“Every dinner needs a side dish—“

The server places a tiny mac n cheese or something Arnold ordered off of the kid’s menu on the table. “On a slightly smaller plate!”

They’re gleefully zig-zagging through the stanchions as they get in line for security. “And now we’re seeing eye to eye! It’s so great we can agree! That heavenly father has chosen you and me— just mostly me…“ At this point Kevin has kicked off his shoes and placed his bag on the conveyer belt, then steps up to the metal detector. “Something incredible…” As he passes through the detector doorframe, reality distorts into a fantasy spotlight again. “I’ll do something incredibleeee! I wanna be the Mormon who changed all of man kind…” Price’s surroundings are black. The only things that remain are the metal detector, and Arnold, who sets the alarm off and is stopped in his tracks by the security guards. “MY BEST FRIEEEEND” Kevin spins around and Arnold and the security are swept off screen. “It's something I’ve foreseen: now that I’m nineteen… I’ll do something INCREDIBLE, that BLOWWS GOD’S FREAKIN MIIIIIIND!”

As he hits these notes, reality fades back in, and he’s standing on the rim of an airport fountain, sticking out above all of the other travelers. The camera swoops to a bird’s eye view of the airport as if Price’s voice sent it launching up there.

Cut to the long set of stairs leading up to the door of the plane. The camera follows both boys as they race up the steps. “And as long as we stick together—“ Cunningham is in front of him, but leans to the side to let Kevin through, “and I stay out of your way-OUT OF MY WAY”

…

“So quit singing about it and do it, how ready and psyched are we?” They’re on the plane, pushing their way through the isle. They find their seats and settle in. They smush their faces against the tiny window. “Life is about to change for you,” they turn to look at each other, “and life is about to change for me.” Kevin buckles his seat belt, and Arnold struggles with his. “And life is about to change for you and me—“ Kevin buckles it for him. “But me mostly…” And tightens it.

He looks at Arnold compassionately. “And there’s no limit to, what we can do…” He places a hand on his shoulder. “Me and you.” Arnold smiles at him. Kevin turns his gaze. “BUT MOSTLY—“ ALL of the passengers on the plane sigh/moan.

Cut to the outside of the plane, taking off.

“MEEEEEEEEEEE!”

It flies into the distance.

#the book of mormon #bom #tbom #broadway #book of mormon #elder cunningham #elder price #arnold cunningham #kevin price #andrew rannells #josh gad #long post

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judehayward · 4 years

Text

THE CHARACTER STATISTICS

FULL NAME — jude hayward (him n his parents dnt kno his middle name they lost his birth certificate n forgot what they wrote)

NICKNAME — judas

D.O.B. — 13th march 1997

LINK TO THEIR PINTEREST BOARD OR TAG ON YOUR BLOG — tag n pinterest

STAR SIGN / MOON & RISING — pisces / taurus / virgo

MBTI — intp (the logician)

MORAL ALIGNMENT — chaotic neutral

MARITAL STATUS & SEXUALITY — single n bisexual

LANGUAGES — jst english :/ boring

TALENTS / HOBBIES — painting, drawing, piano, bass guitar, cooking (hates it tho never does it bc he jst doesn’t hv the energy bt he cn do it quite well), composing, smoking, used to b decent at baseball when he first moved to san fran bt....... no work ethic 😔 didn’t stick at it 😔, reading, narrating pigeons outside of his window like david attenborough

TOP 5 MUSICIANS — the cure, elliott smith, glass animals, the smiths, metronomy.... bonus additions r neutral milk hotel, the national, wolf alice, mac demarco, foals, slaughter beach dog, the psychedelic furs...... cldn’t just list 5 i’m sry. (am i?)

FAVOURITE BOOK — i think he likes virginia woolf stuff a lot.... probably rly likes on the road by jack kerouac too....... i’ve nt read any of this i jst Know frm quotes n things....

FAVOURITE FILM & TV SHOW — hereditary, the room, beautiful boy, the truman show, bladerunner, green room, fight club (:///// he’s not One Of Those bt he jst relates w the insomnia aspect), E.T....... then fr tv um...... mr. robot, breaking bad, peep show, walking dead (until it got Shit), nathan for you, the eric andre show.

FAVOURITE VIDEO GAME — the tony hawk games.... red dead redemption when he’s depressed sometimes he jst rides around on a horse nt even doing a mission jst smoking n galloping...... in silence..... silent hill n resident evil..... think he prob wld hv played life is strange too..... n CoD zombies when younger bt thts it.......

WHAT DID THEY DO THIS PAST SUMMER? — went bk to sheffield to oversee his parents gallery n also catch up w childhood friends n things :/ it was Bad

WHERE HAVE THEY TRAVELLED? — jst various places in england, san francisco, lovell n amsterdam i think

DO THEY TAKE ANY PRESCRIPTIONS? — ya he’s on 200mg of sertraline atm.... idk wht it’s called in america... an anti-depressant basically... he’s tried like 87274723 diff ones bt. :/

DO THEY HAVE ANY DIAGNOSIS’S? — depression (severe) and insomnia... probably mre undiagnosed :/

FICTIONAL CHARACTER THEY ARE MOST LIKE? — ok he isn’t a fictional character bt his biggest inspiration is robert pattinson honestly............. i cn also see nick miller (new girl) in him............ mulder frm the x files (dnt watch bt frm screencaps etc) n also ik he’s a real person again bt the like Persona nathan fielder puts on in nathan for you..... vry deadpan n absurd..... reminds me of him

ARE THEY EMPLOYED? WHERE DO THEY WORK? — no job Babey altho mayb i’ll change tht fr the spice

WERE THEY POPULAR IN HIGH SCHOOL? — he ws invited to all the parties bt he wsn’t like a Top Dog or anything....... jst along fr the ride

DO THEY DO DRUGS? ya

DRINK? — ya

SMOKE CIGARETTES? — so many ya’s. so little time.

SMOKE WEED? — so much. Sorrr pls give ur lungs a break.....

WHERE WERE THEY BORN? WHERE DID THEY GROW UP? — sheffield, england!! he mostly grew up there bt also spent some yrs in san francisco. his parents were weird n unreliable abt relocating between galleries so it ws a bit of a train wreck tbh......

DO THEY PLAN TO GO TO GRAD SCHOOL? — no

WHAT ARE THEIR PLANS POST-GRADUATION? — jude does nt..... hv any plans fr his life at all........... none at all...... doesn’t look any of u in the eyes.................. :////////////////

PARENTS NAMES — harry n colette

DO THEY HAVE SIBLINGS? NAMES & AGES? — no

DO THEY HAVE PETS? TYPES & NAMES? — he hs a tortoise named herb who he wld never confess to loving dearly..... lets him roam free as he pleases.... feeds him slices of cucumber

ARE THEY RELIGIOUS? WHAT IS THEIR RELIGION IF SO? — no he’s like..... if god ws real he’d b a cunt.

HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE THEY SLEPT WITH? — hmmMMM..... mayb like.... 30 something

WHAT VEHICLE DO THEY DRIVE? IF THEY DON’T DRIVE, HOW DO THEY TRAVEL AROUND TOWN? — idk cars bt i imagine the paint kind of peeling faded dusty blue-ish grey myb like.... a slightly older model...... splutters smoke the stereo jams a lot........ he doesn’t care he’s like the bastard hs character............ probably brks dwn a lot n is parked mre than driven. usually gets the bus

DESCRIBE THEIR FASHION — just doesn’t give much of a fk throws whtever on...... usually some flannel shirt or white tshirt...... variation of trousers....... jean jacket or corduroy one......... dr martens.............. sometimes plaid pj pants in public i rly cnt emphasise hw little he cares.............

DO THEY PREFER TO BE BEHIND THE CAMERA OR IN FRONT OF IT? — behind

DO THEY BELIEVE ANY OF THE STORIES ABOUT RADCLIFFE? WHICH ONES? — he finds the undergrounds a bit creepy i think bt he doesn’t rly like enclosed spaces so cld just b tht.................. probably thinks the secret society hs some weight to it

DO THEY THINK THE MOTHMAN IS HOT? — open to the idea of him being a handsome fellow................. perhaps muscular in physique...... striking bastard chap......

A QUOTE THAT DESCRIBES THEM — “He was more like a drizzle in a drought, a fast glance of the view as you’re speeding down the highway. He was there, but he never was.” or “There is a terrible emptiness in me, an indifference that hurts.“

A SONG THAT THEY WOULD RELATE TO — cnt pick between agnes by glass animals n spanish sahara by foals so..... slaps both dwn

#ruhqtask #ruhqtask001

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meet-to-chat · 4 years

Text

Witty Effervescencing

Name: @effervescencing

Date: March 16, 2020

Age: 17

Country: Romania

Languages comfortable chatting in?: English and Romanian

Chat Duration: No preference

Fandoms, general interest, hobbies: I like cartoons (Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall, Final Space), I'm super into movies (MCU, X-Men, Star Wars, but there are a lot more + individual movies)

I really like cinematography, but I have my guilty pleasures, I like TV series (the ones I've watched recently are Mr Robot, Breaking Bad, Brooklyn 99, How I Met Your Mother, Silicon Valley, Band of Brothers, The Good Place, Friends)

I really like reading, I read a lot of stuff but I'm mainly into book series I think(PJO, The Maze Runner, Divergent, Harry Potter, maybe TID, Delirium, Ink Heart, 5th Wave, Miss Peregrine though I read all of these a long time ago) though I haven't read a lot lately.

I like Buzzfeed Unsolved and usually anything to do with murder cases and supernatural stuff, though I don't believe in ghosts.

I play games too, Fran Bow and the Rusty Lake series are my fave ones. I'm generally interested in almost everything and I can probably talk about anything even if it's not among my interests, I like learn about new things.

The intent of wanting to talk?: I want to talk with other people because I don't know people outside my country and it would be nice to find cool stuff about cultures out there.

What do you want to get out of the conversation?: Learning new things probably, I'll see how the conversation goes and I'll decide then, I'm pretty straightforward and I like to be honest, but I don't consider myself rude about that.

Fun fact: I am an ENFP so I guess I'm pretty extroverted and sociable once I get comfortable and I write stuff!

{Admin note: I edited this post based on a process explained on this blogs FAQ page which can be found by clicking on the FAQ page link in this blogs bio right under the profile picture.}

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argylemnwrites · 5 years

Text

Just Us

Pairing: Seth Levine x MC (Jessica Parker)

Book: Red Carpet Diaries (~Book 3, Chapter 3)

Word Count: ~2600

Rating: PG-13 (a bit of language, some innuendo)

Summary: Seth always felt that Jessica was way out of his league, but it turns out those insecurities might have caused him more trouble than he could imagine.

Author’s Note: Written for Day 20 of the Choices July Challenge (just a week late, oops; prompt - Commitment).

This is a follow up to my Day 7 piece (prompt - Reflection) titled Why? and linked in my masterlist.

Seth awoke with a start, disoriented as sunlight hit him square in the eye. Where was he? As he blinked the sleep from his eyes, he quickly remember last night. Deciding to spend the night at Jessica’s after his plane landed, figuring he’d only have to wait up a couple of hours to see her, but feeling his eyes getting heavy within minutes on sinking onto his side of her bed. He remembered thinking he could take a little nap before she got back from her appearance at that nightclub and setting an alarm on his phone, but he must have turned it off in his sleep, because his only other memory was waking up briefly when Jessica was getting into bed. He couldn’t even be sure if they said anything to each other before he passed out again. Whatever the case, she was gone now, as he was alone in her bedroom.

He reached over and grabbed his phone, looking to check the time. 10:47. Well, damn. Good thing he didn’t have anything going on until this afternoon. He was surprised, not only that it was getting dangerously close to noon for him still to be in bed, but also that he was even able to sleep this late. When he’d first moved out to LA, he’d been able to sleep in until any hour of the day. Back then, when he was fighting for the 2 am slot at open mic nights, he would sleep until noon or 1 pm without issue, but as the years marched on, he found himself getting up earlier and earlier no matter what time he went to bed. And now that his 30th birthday was months, not years, away, well it just kept getting worse. It was no wonder his trip had worn him out, with all the traveling and the late night sets, and then the need to stay at the bar after every show to chat with the audience. He had been out past 2 am every night, and then he usually had to get to the airport early enough to catch a morning flight.

God, did he sound like an old man. Actually, he sounded like his dad, a thought that was scary in its own right, and one that would not be a good idea to keep dwelling on before he got some coffee. Since Jessica was clearly up already, he knew there would be some left in the kitchen. Fingers crossed she would be there as well. They hadn’t spent much time together since their vacation, which probably wasn’t the ideal way to spend the week after you got engaged, come to think of it. That’s what he got for proposing on a whim.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he shuffled into Jessica’s bathroom to brush his teeth before he wandered into the living space of her penthouse apartment. He was thrilled to see her curled up on her sofa, mug of coffee in one hand, a worn copy of The Secret of Ninradell in the other. He cleared his throat as he entered the room, not wanting to startle her. She glanced up, smiling brightly when she saw him. God, she was so beautiful.

“Hey, who’s the sleepyhead now?” she asked as he strolled into her kitchen.

“Yeah yeah, Iowa.” Seth replied, shaking his head as he grabbed a mug out of the cabinet and poured himself a cup of coffee. He supposed that was fair, seeing as he teased her no less than once a week about how many times she would swipe to snooze on her phone.

She let him prepare his coffee, adding a bit of milk from the carton in her fridge, before she spoke again. “So, how was the trip? You have to tell me everything.”

He shrugged, leaning against her kitchen counter. “Oh, you know.” He was never really sure how his sets went. Plus, it felt strange to talk about them if he thought they went well, like he was bragging or something. And these ones did seem to go pretty well… but then again, he could never be sure.

Jessica looked up from her copy of Ninradell. She always tried to get him to talk about his shows, but she seemed to understand he just wasn’t comfortable doing that, moving on quickly to other topics. But today, something was different. She kept at it, asking, “How was your San Francisco show?”

“Fine, I guess.”

“Did you meet anyone interesting there?”

“No, was I supposed to? Oh crap, did you tell me that I was supposed to find someone there and I forgot? You know I don’t network as well-”

“No, no. Nothing like that,” she interrupted, dropping her eyes to her lap, twisting her fingers around each other. What the hell had her so nervous? Did she have a jealous ex who lived in San Fran or something?

“What is it, Jessica?”

She took a deep breath, letting out a sigh before she continued, “Don’t be mad, okay? I’m not accusing you of anything. I know you would never cheat on me.”

“Jessica, what the hell are you-” but she had clearly rehearsed this little speech, talking over his interruption, trying to get the whole thing out.

“I just figured if you are tempted or something like that, well maybe we should talk about it. It seems healthier than just pretending that everything is perfect if you are having doubts. And if this whole engagement is too overwhelming, I understand. If you want to just slow things down, have a long engagement or even just go back to dating, I promise I won’t be upset. I just want us to get back to a good place where we both feel comfortable with our level of commitment.”

Somewhere in the middle of her speech, Seth felt his heart begin to race and his mouth get dry. He knew that she was out of his league. He had always known that. But she must have just figured it out. Maybe the engagement made it more real, and she saw that tying herself to a mid-tier comic and mediocre screenwriter was a terrible idea. But whatever the reason, she was asking him to slow things down.

“If… if that’s what you want,” he choked out, trying to not let his sheer terror show.

“No! I am so happy with you. But Seth, I just want to make sure that you are just as comfortable. I don’t want to hold you to something that happened right after an adrenaline rush.”

Seth frowned, setting his coffee down on the counter. “Jessica, I feel like I’m missing something pretty big here. Why would you think I would want slow things down between us?”

He stared at her, trying to put the pieces together, but no matter how he thought about things, he felt like he was completely out of the loop. After a few seconds of painful silence, Jessica finally spoke.

“I just figured there must be some reason you wanted us to have an open relationship.”

Her voice was so small, so quiet, Seth almost missed it. And when he did hear it, he thought he must be hallucinating. Did she really think that he wanted an open marriage?

“No!” he bolted around the island, racing over to Jessica on the sofa, sitting down next to her and grabbing her hands. “Jessica, believe me. I don’t have any real interest in an open relationship.”

“Then why would you even ask? Come on, Seth. There must be some reason why you brought that up after we’d been exclusive for well over a year.”

She was right. There was a reason. It just wasn’t at all what she thought it was.

“I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Why would you lose me?”

“Because you are so far out of my league, Jessica.” She opened her mouth to argue that point, but Seth just shook his head. “You not believing that fact doesn’t make it any less true.”

“Even if that were true, which it’s not, by the way, why did you think that I would want to have an open marriage? What did I do that made you think that I would want to sleep with someone else?”

Seth sighed, grabbing her tablet off the coffee table and opening up a fan site he’d stumbled upon while waiting to catch his flight to San Francisco. It was dedicated to Jessica and seemed to have a pretty active membership. He’d been so proud of her, seeing how passionate people were about her work, her talent. But then he’d stumbled into a thread that focused on her personal life, and it was rife with speculation. About her. About them. About Matt and Hunt and Teja and Victoria. About all of her friends and why the hell they all went on vacation together.

“I think it’s just different in Hollywood, they all sleep around with each other and no one bats an eye at any of it,” read one comment.

“They’re all having sex with each other but are scared of the backlash if it ever came out. That’s why she’s openly with the most vanilla one in the whole group,” said another poster.

“She’s only with him publicly because it makes her seem more relatable. They clearly have an agreement,” claimed a different commenter.

Jessica scrolled through the thread, her eyes growing wide as she scanned across line after line of similar posts. After a few minutes of reading, she stopped, bringing her eyes up to meet his.

“This is all complete nonsense. You know that for a fact. Why would reading this make you think it held any truth at all?”

“I don’t know,” Seth rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed that he had so clearly let his insecurities affect their relationship.

“Seth, have I ever given you any sign that I wanted to sleep with someone else?”

He shook his head. He’d never seen her so much as flirt with anyone.

“Then why would you ever believe this shit? Seth, I don’t get it. You trust TendrSomethingz476 and HawkeyezFan2969 more than you trust us? More than you trust me?”

When she said it that way, it made him feel like an idiot. Of course he trusted her more than some random internet strangers. But it was easy to feel that way now, when she was sitting next to him. It was a lot harder when he was alone and there were tabloid photos of her out with Hunt or going over to Matt’s mansion.

“Jessica, I trust you. I guess I just don’t trust that someone as amazing as you could be happy with just me. Not when you could have someone way better looking or more famous or-”

“Then you don’t trust me, because I have told you time and time again that I want you. I love you.”

“I love you, too. But you are this mega-famous, talented superstar, and I’m just this awkward, dorky writer and comic. On paper, it looks like you outgrew me. I’m the type of guy you date for a while before you land your first big role, get noticed by the paparazzi, and sign commercial deals for bottled water or perfumes or credit cards. Best case scenario, I’m starter marriage material.”

Jessica paused, tipping her head back slightly and staring off to the side as she tried to find her next words. After a few moments, she spoke again.

“Sacha Baron Cohen and Ilsa Fisher.”

“What?”

“Look, I don’t like you talking about yourself like you don’t deserve me. We are equals here in every way. But since you are determined to see us as uneven, I figured I’d find an example of a couple that apparently works in spite of not seeming to match on paper. Hence, Sacha Baron Cohen and Ilsa Fisher.”

“Yeah, and the world doesn’t get why they’re together either.”

“Then the world doesn’t know what it’s missing, with them or with us. Because I get to be with someone who is funny and sweet and caring. You make me smile and laugh and be myself, not this polished version of myself I have to present to the rest of the world. I’m happy with you. Just you, Seth. And I don’t think sleeping with anyone else would make me any happier than I am now.”

Seth didn’t quite know how to respond to that, dropping his gaze down to his lap. He didn’t know how he found someone that saw him that way, far better than he saw himself. He was staring at his hands, processing her words and her utter faith in them, when two smaller hands came into view, grabbing both of his. His eyes automatically focused on the dark pearl sitting on her left hand.

“Seth, look at me.” He turned to face her on the couch as she kept talking. “I know you aren’t the most confident guy out there, but next time you have insecurities, can you promise me you’ll come to me to talk about them instead of trying to solve a problem you just created in your mind?”

Seth nodded, moving his hands to twine their fingers together, “Yeah, I think I can manage that.”

“Good, because I’ve been pretty anxious about this whole open marriage suggestion for days now.”

Seth squinted before the implications of her words fully hit him. “Wait, you thought I was trying to sleep with someone else while I was at one of my shows?”

“How else could I have taken your suggestion? I couldn’t think of anything else that would motivate you asking me that.”

Seth knew it was the wrong thing to do, but he couldn’t help it - he burst out laughing. The whole thing sounded so ridiculous coming from her, that there was some universe where he was picking up people at comedy clubs instead of just missing his insanely hot girlfr- no, fiancée - while he was away.

“Iowa, you’re telling me that instead of thinking that suggestion came from Seth ‘my insecurities have insecurities’ Levine, you jumped to the oh so logical conclusion that I suddenly developed such great game that I was looking for some strange at a comedy club and not, you know, heading back to my hotel to sleep and watch B movies like the boring old man I am?”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite hold back a smile. “You’re not the only one with insecurities, you know.”

She was right, of course. But it was easy to forget that she had been an awkward theater nerd with only one friend before she arrived in LA and took the world by storm. Seth knew he was guilty of thinking that she must be insanely confident because of how quickly she’d skyrocketed to superstar levels of fame. But that wasn’t how insecurity worked, not at all. “I’m sorry, Iowa. I would have never thrown that idea out there if I knew it would make you worry.”

She nodded before pulling her hands from his, swinging her leg over his lap and straddling him before he could even make a comment. “And how are you going to make it up to me?” she quipped, raising one eyebrow, but smiling playfully.

“Not sure, but you sitting like this is giving me a few ideas…”

She laughed before she leaned in to kiss him, winding her arms around his shoulders. As Seth felt himself falling further into the moment with her, he couldn’t help but think he would have to be a complete idiot to doubt what they had. Because this, right here, right now? Well sharing that with her would always be more than enough for him.

Tags: @mfackenthal @kinda-iconic @choicesjulychallenge

#seth levine #seth x mc #rcd #red carper diaries #choices rcd #rcd fanfic #choices fanfiction #choices #choices stories you play #playchoices #choices july challenge

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imaginecoderealize · 5 years

Note

Could we perhaps get hcs for the main cast (+ finis and Sholmes) as to what they would do with a s/o on valentines day? (I have ordered release date delivery for Wintertide Miracles and have asserted that Van Helsing is going to be my valentine)

Valentines headcanons!

First, I am terribly sorry for the tardiness of my response! It is completely mod Apostle’s fault, and she humbly asks for forgiveness. I was away at a convention this weekend and underestimated how little time I would have before I left. Love doesn’t go out of date, I hope??

Mod Nautilus offers sweet love notes, while Mod Apostle’s are ficlets based on a theme of being separated on Valentine’s Day... with happy endings!

We hope you enjoy! We’ll see you again around the beginning of March! Until then have fun with Wintertide Miracles! ❄️

They are behind the cut for length....

LUPIN:

“I’m so glad you accepted my Valentine’s Day invitation, mon trésor! You look so excited, have you been wondering what sorts of adventures I have in store for you? Haha, calm down, calm down! There will be many surprises for the two of us.

Hmm… how does an invitation to a masque sound? I find that nobles are much more fun when they’re masked, it gives us glimpses of the true selves that they usually hide behind their reputations.

Ahaha, what’s with that expression? You want to know if I have something mischievous up my sleeve? My dear, who do you think you’re speaking with? Oh, but please don’t worry. Tonight, all eyes will be on you, and only you.”

****

Lupin planned for the day for weeks. He made all his lover’s favorite treats, made reservations at her favorite restaurant and bought romantic gifts. So when the day came and his lover needed to be away from home on Valentine’s Day, he was supremely disappointed. He didn’t want to make her feel bad, so he hid his feelings and told her they would celebrate when she come back, but Arsene Lupin, Gentleman Thief, couldn’t let his lover be alone on Valentines Day!

He saw her off with a kiss and a smile, asked Impey to use the ornithopter, loaded it up with all of his gifts, and headed to her destination. A little breaking and entering later, he snuck into her room...

He lit his rose-scented candles, put his champagne on a tray by the bed, donned his new red silk robe and arranged himself seductively on the bed to wait.

He heard the door open a few minutes later. His lover took in the sight of Lupin’s roguish grin, temptingly open robe, and champagne and laughed with relief, “I knew I could count on you.”

Lupin was confused for a moment, but then his lover took off her coat...

The gift he bought for her- the very one he couldn’t find that morning- adorned her body most enticingly.

“Were you looking for this?” she said with a giggle, “I didn’t think you bought it for yourself...” she looked a little ashamed, “I am sorry... but... I hoped you would come. I would have felt silly wearing this to return to an empty room.”

Lupin gave his most winning grin, “Never fear, my dear. I would never allow my lover to sleep alone on Valentine’s Day.” he said warmly, and kissed her until she melted in his arms.

........

VAN:

“I’m glad you could make it. Hm? Why do I…? No, I’m not unhappy to see you, you should know better than that. I just had planned to cook a nice dinner for the two of us, but Lupin and the others… it turns out that they made dinner reservations for us.

… It’s at the Reform Club, one of the most exclusive locations in all of London. Lupin said that the Count had to go to a lot of trouble to get us access. I don’t know why they went to all of that trouble, I wanted to… hm? You look rather happy. What, you want me to relax tonight? Heh… I always have trouble saying no to that smile of yours. All right, then. But don’t worry, later on I’ll be sure to spoil you.

At that time… would you prefer chocolate or vanilla?”

****

Van hated to see the disappointment on his lover’s face when he told her he would need to travel on Valentine’s Day, but he could not shirk his duties to Delacroix. They shared a tearful kiss at the door before he left, and he promised to celebrate as soon as he came back, but he knew it wasn’t the same. He had forgotten such sentiment for a long time, but now even he recognized the importance of observing traditions together.

He finished his duties for the day and brooded over his lover being alone... it was wrong. No, he couldn’t let this happen. What kind of lover would he be to do something like that? He stood up.

“Hey, Helsing! Why are you making that face? Don’t tell me you and your sweetie are fighting again!”

He glared at the young king, “We don’t fight...”

“Well you must be if you’re here on Valentine’s Day looking like that! Or did you forget?!” he looked horrified.

Van berated himself silently, even the child king knew it was wrong to leave a lover on Valentine’s Day, “I didn’t forget. It was my duty to be here.” he muttered, “But now I—

“Don’t be stupid, Helsing. Go right now! Take the automobile. Maybe you can still make it back before midnight!”

...

His watch read 11:55pm when he squealed up the driveway. He vaulted out of the car and crashed through the door.

His lover ran out of the living room in a white cotton gown, hair loose around her shoulders. He felt starved of the sight, though he had only been gone for two days. He pulled her in his arms and kissed her until they were both breathless.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” he said between kisses, “I am... sorry...” he kissed her again, “to have left...” he lifted her in his arms and held her tightly against his chest, “Tell me, “ he undid the ribbons on her delicate gown, and kissed her throat. She made a little sigh of pleasure, “Tell me how I can make it up to you...”

She whispered her desire in his ear.

He felt his face warm at her suggestion, and smiled back at her. If that was his penance, perhaps he should misbehave more often.

......

FRAN:

“Oh, you’re here! I’m so glad. The tests had gone well, but Sisi has a mind of his own at times… I wasn’t sure he’d follow the scent to deliver your invitation. Huh, the costume? Y-Yes, I put it together… I’m glad you thought it was cute.

Ah, I hope you like the flowers! I know roses are traditional, but I just couldn’t decide… so I also got you a daisy bouquet and a tulip bouquet. I thought they’d make a nice backdrop. I made some sandwiches for us, they aren’t fancy but I asked for Impey’s help so they should be delicious.

E-Eh? Feed me? Haha, that’s really… really cute of you. All right, but only if I can do the same. Hehe, okay, now… say ‘ahhh’!”

****

Fran hated that he needed to be away from home on Valentine’s Day, but he knew the conference was too important to miss. His lover encouraged him vigorously to go, but he still felt guilty about leaving.

Which is how he found himself coming home with the basket of kittens.

He often worked late or needed to attend lectures. He hated to think of his lover all alone and hoped the kittens would keep her company.

A tiny paw darted out and grabbed his finger.

“Ow!” he yelped, nearly dropping the basket.

The rest of the kittens joined the game and leapt out of the basket to climb up his chest and up to his shoulders, knocking his glasses askew and getting tangled in his hair while he yelped from being scratched with their sharp little claws. He desperately tried to get them to go back in the basket.... just as his lover opened the door to the house to see him covered with kittens.

She stared at him for a moment. A bemused expression on her face, and burst out laughing.

“Happy Valentine— Woah...!” Fran cried as his lover pulled him into her arms, kittens and all. Half the kittens leapt from his shoulder to hers. One still dangled from his coat.

She kissed him, “Welcome home... all of you!” she said, still giggling, “I love you, and I love our new family members.”

.....

IMPEY:

“Okay, my cute little engine, get ready to take my honey and I on the best Valentine’s Day date ever! I thought this would be fun, you know? Taking a nice drive out into the countryside. The sun is just beginning to dip, so we’ll be able to watch the sunset together and then…! Yes! Then we can go stargazing! Ahh, to see the stars reflected in my lover’s eyes, it’ll be like a dream!

Cold? Well, yeah, I guess it is February… but Mr. Impey thought of everything! Ta-daaaa! Check out these portable heating pads I made! Oh, don’t worry, I tested them a lot… got burned a lot, too, but hey! All’s well that ends well, right? E-Ehh… what’s with that expression… okay, okay! I have blankets, too! We’ll just have to scooch up real close-like together. … Ehehe, that might be even better. Waah, Impey, you’re a genius!

Hm? You saw me… working on the Ornithoper earlier? Yeah, I thought at first that a date above the clouds would be fun, but… I realized it would be too dangerous. Hahaha, not because of the Ornithoper, but because… honey, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off of you tonight. Pulling over is much easier than maneuvering an emergency love landing! Ahaha, your blushing so cute! But, there’s no need to be embarrassed… tonight, the only one watching us will be the moon.

****

“I’ll be back as soon as I can!” Impey declared confidently when he left two days ago. But there he was with a busted engine helplessly waiting for the replacement for the broken part he needed to be delivered.

He felt unaccustomedly depressed. He couldn’t believe he was leaving his precious angel alone on this most important day. He knew she would understand. She was a smart and resilient girl. He would make it up to her at length later, but he never wanted to disappoint her. He wanted to always be there to make her smile, always wake up with her tucked in his arms on special days. He certainly never wanted to leave her alone like this.

But there he was, miles away from the nearest train station with a busted motor and no way to get home.

He gazed up at the moon wistfully, thinking of all the nights they spend curled up under blankets looking at the moon and making plans... making love, too. It was the best time in his life.

He squinted up at the moon... was that a new crater? No... it was moving. He could hear a familiar high-pitched buzzing....

He jumped up from the hood of the car and stared at the sky in shock.

The ornithopter was coming.

His heart leapt. The Ornithopter was coming! That meant—!!

The ornithopter circled the clearing where he stood. He jumped and waved enthusiastically. The little aircraft flashed its lights and descended to land next to him. The door was flung open and his beautiful angel of the sky leapt out and into his arms, wrapping her arms around him while he laughed, “My honey came to the rescue! But that’s not fair! It is the noble knight that must rescue his princess!”

“Nonsense!” she snorted, “We don’t live in the dark ages.” she kissed him soundly, “I couldn’t let my hapless prince lie alone in a field on Valentine’s Day!” she held up the blankets she brought.

He grinned as brightly as the moon itself, “I am in your debt, Princess!” he gave her a suggestive wink, “Now what would you like for your reward, eh?”

She kissed him fiercely, “I can think of a few good ways for you to repay me.”

....

SAINT:

“I’m taking off the blindfold now. Hehe, were you able to figure out where I took you? Yes, I thought it would be a nice surprise… oh, tonight they aren’t performing any operas or ballet… tonight is something very special.

I remembered how fondly you were looking at my antique collection, and I thought it might be fun for us to visit an auction together. These auctions are usually so crowded, though, so I arranged for us to have a private viewing the night before. This entire theater is just for the two of us tonight, our own antique gallery. And, my dearest, if you desire anything you see… it’s yours. Whether it’s a few items or the entire show, I will make sure you’re able to start your own collection here tonight.

After that, I was thinking the two of us could go on a cruise- oh, you don’t have to worry about packing. I’ve ensured that everything you need has already been loaded onto the ship. Please forgive my selfishness, but the last time I was invited to an auction cruise, things didn’t go exactly as planned… haha, you understand, right?

Well then, beloved, the night is ours. Let’s dedicate it to our love of art… and our love for each other.”

****

She dropped her suitcase on the bedside table and dropped herself on the bed. She had been away too long. She didn’t think she could bear another lonely night. She knew Saint felt the same way. Sometimes she could feel his emotions from far away like the touch of ghostly fingers caressing her face. She sighed and flipped open her suitcase—

There, on top, was a letter.

She gazed at the familiar stationary, Saint‘s exquisite handwriting spelling out her name. She breathed in the faint scent of white flowers that was her beloved’s signature.

The only trouble was that she had been traveling for days. There was no such letter in her case.

Trembling, she opened the envelope—

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my beloved lady,

It pains me to apart today of all days, even if it is unavoidable. I miss you tonight. Do you have all you need on your travels? Do my words warm your heart enough to endure this absence?”

No... she thought. I need so much more.

“I cannot say the same. I can still feel the shape of you beside me in this bed, your fragrance on my pillow, your sweetness on my tongue. I need all of you here with me always. I wanted to leave you roses on your pillow, kisses on your lips, share tea with you in the morning, read to you in the afternoon. I want to take you places tonight that you’ve never seen. I want to see the wonder in your eyes. I want to hear you gasp with delight. I am a terribly selfish man, as you know too well, but tell me your desires and I will fulfill them. Your pleasure is mine also.”

How many times had he told her that? How many times had they done those things? How many times had she fallen asleep with a smile on her face, her body and soul perfectly content in every way? She kept reading...

“Close your eyes for me. Hear my voice. I am touching you now, my fingers on your lips. Now part them for me, yes... like that. Taste this. Is it sweet? This chocolate is said to be the finest in the world. Do you agree? It will taste sweeter from your lips, my love. Now lie back and think of me. Your wish is my command, tell me your desires. Tell me your needs. Tell me anything at all.”

She could almost taste the chocolate. Feel his fingers on her lips, “I love you.” was all she said. She could almost feel his body against hers. She laid back, undressing as if he watched her from the page of the letter.

“I love you, too. Hehe, Are you surprised that I can hear you? I can feel you, too. Can you feel me now?”

She could... it was almost too real.. she moaned a little...

“I know you can. I know. Oh, how I know. We share a bond to deep for mere miles to erase.

I need more than the thought of you. If you feel the same way...

Open your eyes.”

...

She felt soft lips against hers. Very real lips... her eyes flew open.

“Hehe. Are you surprised?” Saint said softly.

“What!? How—”

He put a finger over her lips, “Shh, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I am here with you now...” he kissed her again. His lips tasted of dark chocolate.

He pulled her into his arms, “Now, please, let me love you.”

....

SHOLMES:

“… And here you are. I’m not surprised, you’re always good at solving the fun little riddles I leave for you. Still, I found it rather charming that you left a riddle for me, as well. … It looks like we had the same place in mind, too. Yes, you told me once that you wanted to visit this tea house, didn’t you? Haha! Was that how it went? I was the one who wanted to come here? Well, I really must thank you for remembering that, then. … You made reservations as well? My, it looks like we’ll have the whole room to ourselves…

Hm? You’re disappointed that I didn’t bring my violin? My dear, did you really believe that the night would be ending here? Hehe, no, it would be too early for that. After this, I want to take you to a garden I recently found. There’s a beautiful gazebo there, and I think the acoustics will make the performance much nicer. … Besides, tonight, you’re the only one I want to hear my music.”

****

Sholmes sighed and put down his newspaper. He knew he was being foolishly sentimental. February 14th was just a date on the calendar. It was nothing to get upset about to miss a single day together.

So why did he feel so out of sorts?

He knew perfectly well, but the knowledge was uneasy. He never felt this way before and it unnerved him. He considered his intellect to be above such trivial things.

He attempted to forget his melancholy by tidying the house, but was useless. He decided a walk might clear his mind...

....And immediately spotted a familiar figure slipping between two buildings.

No one else would have noticed her unique gait and peculiar habit of looking up at the sky when she was trying to be nonchalant, but he certainly did.

She told him she would be away for the week. What was she doing sneaking in alleys?

A little troubled, he turned from his path to follow her.

She led him on a merry chase through the city, ending when he saw her slip inside a window on a sleepy, tree-shaded street.

Waiting only a moment, he followed her.

—only to be lifted off his feet and pulled through the window.

The scent of his lover’s sweet vanilla perfume surrounded him.

He was being kissed.

Thoroughly.

He answered with hunger to match. It had been too long.... He suddenly didn’t care why his lover was sneaking through the city...

She released him, “Did you like your Valentine’s Day present?” she whispered in his ear.

He understood.

Feeling a little foolish, he laughed, “You win this time.” he kissed her, “Next time you won’t get so lucky.”

“I think it is you who is about to get lucky.” she said before wrapping her arms around his neck again.

.....

FINIS:

“Ha! Well, look at how dressed up you are! Huuuh? Date? You really went to all that trouble because you thought… V-Valentine’s Day? I wasn’t particularly paying attention to it… sister baked cookies for it, which you’re welcome to have. They really…. they are rather burned, aren’t they? Sheesh…

Candles? Can’t a man light some candles without it suddenly being for a particular occasion? And the flowers… wipe that smile off your face, it makes you look like a fool. … Ahh, fine! Fine! H-Here. Huh? No, my sister didn’t make these chocolates! … I made them. Had to fight off a fork-wielding little… b-but, anyway… I’m sure you’ll find these far better than those cookies—or anything else you might have received today.

I’ve never really… Valentine’s Day never… ….. I… hope you enjoy them. The fact of the matter is, I wanted to see you. I want to see you. It doesn’t have to be a particular day… I simply… want to be with you. … There’s that smile, again. … I suppose it isn’t always a foolish one.”

****

Finis was in a bad mood.

That wasn’t unusual. How can one be in a good mood surrounded by incompetents?

It had nothing to do with a certain person being absent from work because of a cold on Valentine’s Day. They were just the only person capable of doing their job correctly. He was just annoyed because it made his workload worse.

If he kept telling himself that, he might even believe it.

He finished up early and left without an explanation.

On his way home he was further annoyed by the displays in the shops. All lurid red hearts and foolish Cupids. Childish nonsense for frivolous people. He stomped away not looking where he was going and upset a cart full of flowers. A bucket tipped as he collided with it and spilled its contents on the ground.

It was his fault. He couldn’t expect the flower girl to suffer for his clumsiness, so he bought the things.

Now what? He certainly didn’t need a bucket full of pink roses.

That certain coworker wasn’t feeling well. Maybe this would cheer her up.... so she could get back to work and do her job!

Feeling thoroughly convinced, he turned toward her house.

He found her quietly reading a book with a cup of tea. Her face turned red when she saw the flowers. Maybe she had a fever.

She was crying and smiling as she thanked him. Her eyes bright with gratitude. He didn’t understand why girls did that. But... deep in his heart... he had to admit it made him... very happy.

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mercysought · 5 years

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📜........ hey

📜 for plots! (ACCEPTING) // @praeludio

winks w both eyes and twirls heyBeyond the ones that I’ve already showered you with, have also these because I have no self control and I want to write with all of your characters. Gonna try to focus on some that I might have not mentioned last time! Also I’m going to preface this by saying that fuck timelines I’ll put my characters in whatever time and place I want them.

Andrea with Himsulem or the Priestess (and therefore Manala?) and this could work for your primary (au) where they are rebuilding Alexandria or before. Considering Himsulem and the Priestess are slightly older than she is even at the latest of her age maybe have more of a familiar bond with Himsulem or the Priestess being more protective of her and her children? Andrea bonding with Manala?

Aegon Targaryen still going in the same vein as what we had spoken in the other post for Arthur: With Émilie as Elia lady in waiting and Abel as a knight, we could set this in the All Knights Must Bleed / With Fire and Blood that you have. Abel and Arthur deciding to smuggle the princess and the children out and back to Dorne. Of course at this stage Aegon would have been young (as a child) and I’m not sure if you’d be interested in exploring more of his younger years.

Cedric Diggory and Maxima being pals? Since he seems to be incredibly popular and I set Maxima as Hufflepuff’s head girl I’m pretty sure that they would be in the same circles. Maybe even some healthy competition in classes (since Maxima doesn’t play quidditch). Maxima is a more charred sort of cinnamon roll than Cedric since she is far more willing to use her popularity and charms to make sure that no Hufflepuff is stepped over by other teams (you know how she is, so that should give you an idea of how she would be). I feel it could be interesting to go from the early last year to the other schools arriving, the triwizard tournament and even after.

It could also be Cedric with either Abel or Émilie, if we put them as students from Beauxbatons there! That is literally how far this idea goes, I’m not sure what else to suggest here qjbgherngke

Cassana Estermont and Maxima, hey I heard you want a daughter, how about an adoptive daughter from Highgarden with bastard blood? I mean the bastard blood doesn’t need to be known, not because she would be able to pretend to be of noble blood but because Maxima, at this point, is likely living as if she’s a commoner all together. Maybe Cassana finds her mother and her mother is ready to get rid of her (which I could see as totally a possibility). So she’s taken back to their home? Anyway, this to say, teach what motherly love is to Maxima, please and thank.

Declan Amell and Anora as likely enemies. In the sense of, he put Alistair ruling alone and Anora would have escaped her tower and been exiled. You can bet everything that she’d be rearing up for taking advantage of her people’s love for her (not her father, painting a picture of how she is not like him and was subjugated, even if that wasn’t the case) and preparing to take the throne back. First from the Free Marches (which we can always lace with what we had spoke already for Quentyn) and then eventually actively amassing those that would fight with her to get her nation back from a bastard warden that should not even meddle in politics. Probably even going to other nations to gather support (for example Antiva). Give me the warrior queen we all deserve and love.

Brandon Stark and Anora. I was thinking more as children have them be pretty competitive sort of friends. The sort of friends that get to a point where they are like: but are they actually friends or are they just assholes to each other always trying to one up each other. I was going to suggest setting this in the Wolves at War simply because that allows us to actually do stuff during the war with the Targeryans? Especially considering I feel that would be interesting considering Brandon would have bastards and if she was married to Cailan, while there are no bastards she would feel very pissed at that. If they, as adults, became actual friends she would probably be just shaking her head and saying that Cat deserved better.

Francisca Lahey and Moe or the Priestess? I am unsure on the Walking Dead timeline and what parts would be interesting. Moe because, well, Moe can be fit anywhere and find anyone basically. Going to Alexandria or meeting Fran while she was still with Michael towards the school before he dies? The priestess afterwards? Vague hand gestures. Anyway let me help Fran find her family thanks

Sebastian Vael maybe in the same vein with what I’ve said about Declan and Anora? Instead of staying right there, she takes refuge in Starkhaven before Sebastian goes to Kirkwall? Or just in the cusp of it and they both head to Kirkwall? Ooh. Alistair visiting with Teagan and Anora just eyes and highkey wanting to smack him over the head with a sword after what he and Declan did to her father. Really early in the process of moving forces. So post-Awakening + DA2 time wise?

These are not all of the muses that you have………. but they are already so many………… and I always start these with a ‘oh yeah I’ll just write a few’ only to get this

#praeludio #skells speaking ( ooc )#raven received ( meme replies )#long post tw

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