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[Sep. 26th, 2014|10:43 am] |
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Anyway, I can get a Jenna Dewan pb to play against a Channing Tatum pb of mine for one of my lines in the journal. Something long ranged would be awesome. |
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[Sep. 19th, 2014|12:48 am] |
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Yup check it |
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[Aug. 27th, 2014|06:07 pm] |
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Gimme something to do please. Check the journal. |
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| The Homeless Vampire |
[May. 8th, 2014|07:11 pm] |
genre: modern, supernatural, vampires (possible odd couple/road trip comedy?)
preferences: het, slash, gen
warnings: tba
( Max had been very wealthy, once. ) |
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[May. 3rd, 2014|09:08 pm] |
GENRE: Modern day, the ruins of a ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) superiore-like place.
PREFERENCES: Slash/het/gen
WARNINGS: sexual assault implied
“You know, Ronan mused, “I think I like it better this way.” The gothic arches of Bastille Hall drooped somber and ancient against the backdrop of a charcoal sky. Police strobes played into the dimpled faces of gargoyles nestled beneath the stone rafters. A length of yellow police ribbon fluttered in the uncharitable breeze. It had been torn loose when the news crews pressed in for a shot at the convicted headmaster and his coterie of accomplices. All but two members of staff had been spared the massive culling. Student numbers were harder to estimate.
Ronan tracked the flicker and wave of the police tape with his eyes. It curled around the back of a police cruiser, caught a gust of wind and drooped miserably down to the asphalt, where it snared around a pair of scuffed ballet flats. He looked up with a tug in his chest. “Joy, hey-”
The crackle of skin on skin echoed loudly over the eerily silent quad. Ronan registered it as a tingle in his flaming face. Humiliation came first, with patrol cops glancing his way and Stanley pushing away from the car to intercede, then the actual, throbbing sting snaking up the length of his right cheek.
Joy was nineteen and very blonde. Over one of their many late night chats, she had confessed to Ronan that she dyed her eyebrows to look less Nordic. That was before she showed him the welts on her back, but after she told him how to pack his bruises with heat. “You’re a pig. And an asshole. How could you even…”
“You’re certainly within your rights to think so,” Ronan said, trying to roll with the metaphorical punches. He hadn’t realized, until then, that it was much easier to do so with the physical ones.
Small fists clenching and unclenching at her sides, Joy snarled. “I hope you die.” She whirled around, curls bouncing on her narrow shoulders, and stalked away with a great sense of purpose. A uniformed cop moved to intercept, but Ronan shook his head. Joy was by no means the only student lashing out in the wake of the sting. The much-commentated scandal of Vatersay University had triggered a wave of condemnations and recriminations. From one end of the political spectrum to the other end of the celebrity circuit, hopes had been dashed, careers terminated overnight.
It seemed like more and more graduates were coming out with their stories every day. The statutes of limitations had expired for many of the alumni charged, but that didn’t seem to affect the court of public opinion. A pastor in Arkansas had decreed Vatersay the birthplace of evil in America. The Westboro Baptist Church was reportedly planning a protest outside the campus as soon as they could make the media sit up and pay attention to their antics. Outrage was rife enough that Larry King had come out of retirement to head a panel discussion on prime time.
At least Joy had used the back of her hand to make herself understood. It wasn’t as spectacular, but boy was it effective.
Stanley caught Ronan by the chin. “You’re okay, kid.”
“I know,” Ronan said, shaking him off. They had been partnered for three years, spent two cobbling together this operation, working together through thin but mostly think -- and still Stanley showed no inkling of forgiving Ronan his young age. It was true that he’d been a greenhorn at Quantico when Stanley was chasing domestic terrorists up and down the eastern seaboard. It was also true that if it hadn’t been for Ronan’s baby face, they might never have found the proof they needed to shut down the cycle of coercion and abuse that had been greasing Vatersay pockets for the better part of two decades.
“She’ll come around. Prolly needs a couple of years in therapy, but—“
Stanley meant well, but Ronan didn’t believe a word of it. “I’m gonna stretch my legs. I need to -- I’ll see you at the motel, alright?” He was already turning away when Stanley snatched a hand around his elbow. Big mistake.
( Read more... ) |
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[May. 1st, 2014|07:06 pm] |
GENRE: Sci-fi/post-apocalyptic, nuclear event.
PREFERENCES: Slash/gen.
WARNINGS: TBA.
After they'd lost the war, after they'd all lost the war, he'd limped back to his family's Colorado homestead with one eye blown from the neural surge and the other the electric blue of a thousand different codec screens, pride all wound up in what-ifs. His parents had met him at the door, their faces contorted with the kind of surprise that, looking back, Colt attributed more to the mountainous mech still cooling in the distance than he did his own prodigal return. Not that he'd blamed them. They'd never seen a striker in person. Most who did didn't survive long enough to let it sink in - the sheer size. The power. Besides, there were plenty of ghosts walking around, by that time. Adding one more to their number must've been par for the course for them, despite him being their son.
The news called them drifters. Pilots cut free of their program by the nuclear detonations, they had been spared poisoning by the impenetrable skins of their mobile suits, and left to roam. Some managed to find their way home, like Colt and his Hermes, but most ended up wandering the gutted cities they'd sworn to protect, forever shackled to their shame by the immortal vessels that had enacted it.
He'd followed their stories on the radio for awhile, until they lost their anecdotal appeal and were replaced by the more desperate, discerning reports dedicated to government aid, shelter, food. Colt had found little interest in those. Heat from a dead star, he'd told his mother. By then, she'd taken to staring out the window. Hermes still stood a hazy mile from their home, its posture erect and unbowed even in the most inclement of weather, only the mountainous ridge beyond to lord it over.
The only strange thing about it was the birds. The weather had always seemed unnaturally contained in their small valley, enough so that the systems of the outer world hardly seemed to breach the high walls. But the birds should've been nesting, so close to spring. Maybe that was the thing, more than the explosions, more than the radio waves going dark, that settled it for Colt. No birds nesting on Hermes, none that dotted its shoulders or head. No birds.
His father had agreed. Must've died before they could find their way here, he'd said, and clapped Colt on the shoulder. They'd celebrated his 27th birthday not long after. His mother had made his favorite lemon cream cake with the last of the juice from the small general store down the road.
When summer arrived and it wasn't just the birds that didn't come, they decided. Colt would stay. Keep up the chickens, the heifer. His parents would go - go and see. Maybe they thought that if he went, he wouldn't come back. Or maybe they just thought that he'd done enough, seen enough. And so when the taillights of the ancient station wagon disappeared down the winding road that led into the foothills, Colt watched from the porch.
It was where he was now, the porch. Late August, the last of the nighttime cool just waiting to be crushed beneath the heel of dawn. The last man left in the world, and a light from the ridge. Firelight, not electric.
He didn't think it was going to be them. |
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[May. 1st, 2014|02:04 pm] |
genre: modern, high school
preferences: het
warnings: tba
School had finished an hour go but Katherine had no intention of going home, her head has been in a mess and it hadn’t been helpful when she was on the ice with her team, she had been too distracted and missed a clear shot. Her brother was the first one to express his disappointment, but he, out of all people knew her mind had been elsewhere. There was no training that particular afternoon when Katherine found herself back at the school’s ice rink, it was practically empty as Katherine watched the stragglers leave, she could hear cleaners were around but they would have known her by now, if it wasn’t her at the rink it would be her brother or other members of the team, most of them would go there when they didn’t have too if they needed to clear their minds. Katherine wished her mind would stop racing and thinking about him. Everybody warned her. Even though he was a fellow team mate, he was a player on and off the ice, he was a ladies man come lunch time and she used to watch him with a different girl each lunch time. She didn’t even think she would like him that way. Apparently she did. Apparently he liked her too and their… not even a friendship grew into a relationship during a weekend getaway to Chicago. She stupidly enough wanted to go and find her birth father and he got a whim of her plan, catching her off guard at the train station and said he was going with her. She hadn’t been to Chicago before and he was from there, pretty logical don’t you think? The thing was, they hadn’t really held a conversation before, he would have been as her opposite, rude and a pig they were snarky towards each other and other days they would simple ignore one another. Then that all seemed to change in Chicago. She found her biological father and wanted to see him, he warned her not to get her hopes up because he had been in the same situation a few years ago but her mother was getting remarried and she wanted to know her father again, how hard could it be for a father/daughter reunion?
She asked him to go with her when she had located her father, at first her father didn’t recognise her then it dawned on her. It wasn’t the reunion she wanted to be. He was happy to have his daughter back in his life, but she could not stay with him. Katherine later found out he had his own family, two daughters and a wife, so he didn’t want to mix his past and present together? Katherine wasn’t happy she probably would have lost it if it weren’t for her team mate it was getting late that they decided to crash at a hotel and that’s when the confessions happened: he thought she was with his best friend and he kept his distance from her. Katherine reassured him they were only friends and she wasn’t attached to anyone. They kissed and you could imagine what happened next.
They would have dated for about a year and half when drama happened, they lost someone close and he left without a word, Katherine couldn’t understand why he would just up and leave without saying anything to her or anyone as matter of fact, he just went awol. It was getting close to a month without hearing from him and Katherine didn’t know what to do, she was on the ice now in the rink and had been skating several laps, almost out of breath, she skated towards the middle where black pucks had been lined up and whacked them as hard as she could some into the net, most missed, Katherine didn’t care, she was letting out her frustration. She just wanted him back. |
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[Apr. 28th, 2014|11:18 pm] |
setting: contemporary, sedoretu au
preferences: het, femslash, poly
warnings: tba
The door slammed shut in her wake. Daniela tried to catch it, but her fingers were just this side of shaky and she missed. “What? Sorry, I can’t hear-” She tasted guilt -- so much like bile, but born of a different organ. Jagged, somehow, and tangy. Possibly made up of cherry seeds. Or razor blades. It lingered in the back of the throat, cooled by every intake of breath through parted lips. She should have checked the caller ID before picking up. Should have said no, I’m busy, can’t walk right now. Please call back later, Daddy.
But she hadn’t.
A wistful sigh tickled her ear. ”You’re so like me, baby. Always on call.”
Daniela glanced around the apartment in search of witnesses. The living room was empty, magazines strewn on the coffee table where her fiancee's law books didn’t reach out their grabby hands. An upturned shoe had been left discarded at the edge of the carpet, its counterpart deposited a little further. A Morning habit, she mused, abandoning her keys on the kitchen counter and fighting to make as little noise as she could.
It took her a moment to realize her name was being called on the other end of the line. “Yeah. No, I’m here. I’m listening.” Unwillingly, but she was glued to the cellphone as though it was her last lifeline and feeling annoyed because that shouldn’t have been true. If today had been one of her broadcast nights, if she hadn’t recharged her phone before going to run errands. If she hadn’t stopped to have coffee with Jackie who had been in Las Vegas when she’d been in London and who was moving back, now, with a small rock on her finger and a new BMW. If.
Daniela twisted her mind around the memory, distracted by crop circles in the carpet - her own doing, she was sure - and telltale coffee rings crisscrossing on the face of some wholesome celeb staring up at her from an old issue of Cosmo. She turned into the conversation like a spy satellite picking up to some far-distant signal, though she’d never tuned out in the first place.
“Talk to me, honey. Is there anything you need? I can bring it when I--”
“No. I’m fine.” Her voice had dropped an octave, sinking into that unpleasant fog of long buried family history. Traitor. “When are you...” But that didn’t work any better than the lie. She didn’t want to know. This was why they needed a fourth: so she could tie the knot, so she could be out from under his boot. “No. I’m glad you’re- Of course. I miss you, too. Let’s- not over the phone. Please... I’ll meet you at the airport, if you want. Or the hotel, whichever-”
Her stomach hollowed. The bedroom door was open and beyond it, a flash of movement.
“I have to go. I’ll call you later.” Much later. She cut off the call before she could say anything more. It was just as well. This wasn’t a conversation to have within earshot of anyone with higher brain function. |
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[Apr. 28th, 2014|10:17 pm] |
genre: supernatural, fantasy, vampires
preferences: slash, platonic
warnings: tba
For the umpteenth time, Dimitri rubbed at the throbbing bruise on his neck. It wasn't mending as fast as the usual fare. Gia had been in a foul temper when she sunk her fangs in. It felt like she was trying to devour him. Had he stayed in school, if he had been a little brighter, he might have been able to put a name to the churning in his gut.
As it stood, Dimitri made do with useless instincts and bruised ego, arms folded over his chest as he listened to Junip rattle off the latest update on small town gossip. It was coming up on closing time and they didn't have many patrons left to attend to, so the hearsay was particularly scandalous.
One Juliet McQueen had actually celebrated her sweet sixteen with her mother's vampire lord and master and word had it she'd been spotted in a compromising position with the centenarian. Dimitri hmphed, indifferent. He knew better than to comment. The very idea that normal relationships -- marriage and families, and all the rest of that nonsense -- could exist in a place like Shadow Falls seemed improbable.
Dimitri's hand strayed once again to the bruise on his neck, the bite marks fresh. No kidding. He had stopped being ashamed about a year into his fucked-up arrangement with Gia. These days, the bites were a part of him. He scratched at them for want of a reminder that he'd made his choice.
One of these days, he'd learn to tolerate it.
"Anything not high school drama?" he drawled as he moved to the bar, summoned by a regular dropping heavily into a seat on the other side. There were people here who didn't ask for drinks anymore, who didn't want conversation. They came in, they sat down. They turned their hollow eyes to the notches in the wood grain and spent a few hours in relative respite from the madness outside the Lion's doors. Dimitri left them be.
Junip shot him a toothy grin. "Only the kind you don't want me talkin' about. Had fun lockin' up last night?" The innuendo wasn't lost on Dimitri. Nor the threat. He remembered the weight of Gia's gaze when she'd asked him if he'd been with anyone without her permission and had to still his hand. No touching the bruise like a guilty con. Not again. (He also remembered lying.)
He looked away from Junip's knowing smirk just as the doors of the Black Lion creaked open. Dimitri's stomach plummeted like a block of cement. Junip was right; he hadn't locked up alone last night. Nor had he gone straight home, like he'd told Gia. And here came the reason why, back for seconds. |
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[Apr. 25th, 2014|06:44 am] |
genre: modern AU, arranged marriage
preferences: slash, het
warnings: tba
"Stop fidgeting, or I'll cut off your hands," Jeroen snapped, and tugged Gabriel's tie straight again, this time none-too-gently.
Gabriel scowled at him. "I don't like ties. They're confining. Strangling. I can't draw a decent breath when I'm wearing one."
"And yet all other men do so without problem. You'll just need to deal with it. Mother insisted, and what she wants, she gets. After the reception, you're free to take it off and cut it into tiny pieces, for all I care."
"Don't think I won't," Gabriel replied as his brother stepped back, finally satisfied. Gabriel paced to the window, looked out it for a moment. He pressed his lips together, firmly pushed down the urge to pick at his tie again.
"Izaak?" He didn't look back at Jeroen.
"Not here. Father decided it was for the best. I don't think he'd do anything foolish, but still. Best to remove all possibilities for trouble, yes?"
Gabriel glanced over his shoulder at Jeroen. "He wouldn't do anything foolish. Izaak knows the stakes involved in all this."
"Participants in arranged marriages tend to turn a blind eye to certain...activities as long as there's discretion shown," Jeroen said, and Gabriel turned to frown at him.
"I think he deserves to be more than just a bit on the side. No. A clean break. And thanks ever so for casting me in the role of adulterer before I'm even wed."
Jeroen adjusted his cufflinks. "Don't be so prim. We're all adults here. Neither of you is entering into this because of love--it's a completely political arrangement. There's no need to leave your needs unsatisfied."
"I'd appreciate it if you'd just shut up about it," Gabriel said, and Jeroen simply shrugged. "How much longer?"
Jeroen glanced at his watch. "Three minutes." He stepped up and did one last adjustment of Gabriel's tie and lapels, tugged down the cuffs of his jacket just so. "Put on your Prince Face, go out there, and say the words. It'll all be over with in five or six more hours, and then you can do a ceremonial burning of the tie."
"I don't want this," Gabriel said. "It needs doing, and I shall, but really, I don't want this."
"You're the only one who can, though," Jeroen said. "For what it's worth, I am sorry."
"I know what's at stake. And I'd do it ten times over if it would help. I just--" Gabriel closed his mouth abruptly. He knew his duty, and he would perform it. He drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly. It was supposed to help, but he wasn't certain that it did. Gabriel arranged his face into calm lines, tucked away everything else. He might not have a choice in what he did, but he certainly had a choice in how he presented himself, how he acted.
"I'm ready," he said, and Jeroen's mouth curled into a faint smile and he opened the door that lead out to the chapel itself. |
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[Apr. 25th, 2014|04:48 am] |
genre: science fiction/Firefly universe/pirates
where: aboard the Nekhbet
preferences: het, slash, platonic
warnings: tbd
It was late into Nekhbet's night, lights dimmed, air circulating a few degrees cooler, the steady thrum of engines rising from the decking and into his bare feet to vibrate into his bones, mostly unnoticed after four years of living aboard her. Rezek could hear the whoosh of circulating air, the hum of engines and the creak of metal, ceramic and plastics as the ship sailed on through space. At his elbow a cup of tea steeped, fragrant jasmine. A luxury and an expense to be sure, but Rezek was a man who liked his creature comforts.
The scent of oil was heavy in his nose, the shkk-shkk of blade sliding across whetstone familiar and calming. There was something meditative about cleaning, sharpening and polishing his knives, and the irony was not lost on him--to feel peaceful while preparing weapons to kill.
He sat at the long dining table in the galley, dressed in a tee shirt and a pair of loose sleep pants, a dozen blades lined up neatly on a cloth before him. The captain had fussed at him once for not protecting the wood from the oil, though in Rezek's estimation a little oil certainly wouldn't hurt the aged table. To keep the peace, he'd started using a cloth, and in truth it was no skin off his nose to do so. With the captain he had to pick his battles and this was not worth the bother.
Rezek paused to take a sip of tea. The heat of the tea through the thin china warmed his fingers. He wasn't certain if it was the soft, almost silent scrape of foot against decking or merely that odd sixth sense that had saved his life so often, but he knew without looking that he was no longer alone.
Setting the cup back on the table and taking up his dagger to smooth it across the whetstone, he said, his voice soft and pleasant with a tiny hint of teasing, "How do you ever sneak up on anyone, clumping around as you do like a drunken cow?" |
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| The One That Got Away |
[Apr. 24th, 2014|06:00 pm] |
Preferences: Het
Warnings: None
Taking a deep breath, Chaé tossed the wet and crumpled paper towel she had just used to wipe her hands clean. Leaning against the sink, she ran her fingers through her hair. A million and one thoughts were running through her mind. This had been one busy shift. Seemed like so much had happened in the last 12 hours. But it was over now and she could look forward to a few days off. There was just a few things left to do before she could really consider herself free. Chaé always liked to check on her patients one last time before she left for the day. It gave her peace of mind knowing that she had done everything that she could to make sure that they were comfortable and cared for during her shifts. Chaé also wanted to say goodbye to each one. There was always a big chance that they would be discharged by the time she came in for her next shift. Once she did her last round, all that was left was to give the shift change report.
Sitting on one of the benches in the locker room, Chaé took a second before finally deciding that she didn't really feel like changing out of her scrubs. Working 12 hours straight had it's benefits, but it always took a lot out of her. She just wanted to get home, shower, and have something good to eat. She'd later be hanging out with Kyle and didn't want to be in a cranky mood. Grabbing her bags, Chaé walked out of the room. Saying goodbye to her friend and co-workers, Chaé walked down the short hall from the nurses station to the elevators. Pressing the down button, Chaé took off her name badge and tossed it into her oversized bag. It would probably get lost in there and she'd spend all morning looking for it before coming into work next time.
The few minutes the elevator doors took to open, Chaé got lost in her thoughts. She was feeling mixed emotions. Kyle was the longest relationship she had really had since him. Kyle was a nice guy and things were going okay, but things just... they didn't feel 100% right. There were just times where she felt as though he didn't fully understand her and would push more than he should. Take tonight for instance. Getting off of a 12 hour shift Chaé didn't want to dress up and go anywhere. All she wanted was to kick back and relax at home. Yawning, she walked into the elevator and pressed the main lobby button before she went into one of the corners and leaned against it. It was funny how fast her energy level fell as soon as she got of the floor. There was always so much adrenaline running through her veins when she was working. Things could change in a moments notice on the floor and she wanted to be prepared. Shutting her eyes for a second, she felt the elevator door open on another floor. She knew she should open her eyes, but this just felt so good!
The ride down to the lobby of the hospital felt like it took seconds. Chaé was sure that she had fallen asleep standing up during that short elevator ride. The doors opened on the main floor and she waited patiently as the other riders walked off. She was too tired to be rush. Looking at the feet of the guy standing in front of her and watched as he walked out of the elevator. It wasn't until she took the first step out of the hospital's main doors that she really looked up and in front of herself. But by then it was too late. She'd bumped into someone and instantly felt horrible. "I'm so sorry sir, I should have been watching where I..." Looking into his eyes, Chaé instantly froze. He was back and he was standing right in front of her.
Chaé stood there frozen. All the emotions that she had worked so hard to bury keep inside of her self came bubbling back to the surface. Images of the amazing moments from their high school relationship came to mind. Then came the sting of pain as she remembered how he'd ended things. She had been so in love with him and would have done anything to make it work, but he broke her heart and ended things because he was leaving how. Now he was back and standing right there in front of her. The words she had wanted to say to him for so long were trapped in her throat like a huge ball. Chaé felt stupid standing there not saying anything, but she couldn't move and couldn't speak. |
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[Apr. 23rd, 2014|03:00 pm] |
Preferences: Het
Warnings: None
Chief among the things Maid Marian had stolen in recent days was the heart of the Sheriff of Nottingham, though this particular theft had been quite by accident, and was proving to be a particular hitch in perpetuating her chosen life of crime. There was very little to be done in the way of stealing and regifting to the poor when the Sheriff himself was constantly breathing down the exposed nape of your neck; Marian, who had never before objected to the less conservative turn women's fashion had taken in recent years, now cursed the lowered collars and raised hairstyles that allowed the man any glimpse of unsunned flesh.
Perhaps therein lay the problem: she hadn't gotten out much in recent days. She woke nightly in a cold sweat, convinced the very walls (or discouraged suitors, as it were) were closing in on her. She became more belligerent in her thefts, more obvious, craving that something—anything—might happen to challenge her in some way, but no excitement save the transitory thrill of a purloined purse succeeded in uplifting her mood. Many times she thought she might go mad.
Maybe it was madness that drove her to boldness that morning. Marian had only narrowly escaped being chaperoned on a ride through Sherwood when the Sheriff was called away to punish some peasant transgression in Locksley. Marian made a mental note to visit the town, an old neighborhood and childhood haunt of hers, later, once the Sheriff's riders had gone and she had a chance to carry away a few stale loaves of bread she had seen piling up in the kitchen at Nottingham.
She had made short work of losing herself in the trees, choosing to depart from the well-kept paths long ago in favor of the deer paths that unwound before the quick-eyed who knew where to look. She had tied her mare off in a meadow brimming over with wildflowers; there were a few braided expertly into her hair by the time she found herself deep in the forest. She came across a waterfall pond before long, which was interesting—the discarded clothing she spied, doubly so.
It seemed like such an easy theft, Marian couldn't help herself. All morning her thoughts had been with the poor people of Locksley, and now she had the luck to run across some nobleman secure enough to leave his belongings unattended while he took an afternoon swim—for who but a nobleman could find the time to engage in the recreation?
A stream of bubbles further out told Marian the man had yet to surface from a dive, so without a moment's further hesitation she stole up to the bank and lifted his purse. It weighed very little, much to her disappointment; still, she hid it away in the pocket of her dress. She then decided seek her amusement by heaving the man's shirt and trousers into the high branches of a nearby tree.
The water positively boiled now; she knew the swimmer was about to surface. Rather than flee and risk being spotted, Marian quickly stepped behind an overgrowth of brush. While she may have succeeded in hiding herself from view, the hand she raised to smother a laugh proved less successful. |
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[Apr. 23rd, 2014|04:23 pm] |
Preferences: Platonic
Warnings: None
Alyssa really couldn't even being to understand why she had agreed to this. The time had passed, but the hurt was still there. Whoever said that time healed all wounds had to be lying. There wasn't enough time that was going to make her miss her sister any less. Having little Tyler didn't help any. He looked so much like his mother. There were even little things that he did and said that reminded her so much of Jessica. Ty had only had three months with his mother, but somehow Jess had rubbed off so much on him in that little time. Watching as he plaid with his favorite toy car, Alyssa quickly wiped a tear and turned towards the window. Why was she doing this again?
Having Ty's dad be a part of his life was something that Al knew Jessica would have wanted. Jess had fought so hard to get him clean. It's ultimately what cost her her life. It was hard not to hate him. He'd taken away her sister, taken away Tyler's mom and caused them all so much pain. And for what? Letting out a heavy sigh, Alyssa tried to shake the thoughts from her head. She'd promised herself that if he ever came around again and was clean that she wouldn't keep him from his son. Sure Al had legal custody of Tyler, but he was still his son. Jessica wanted him to have a relationship with his father. Thinking about him though and knowing what had happened made it so difficult to not hate him.
Turning back to Ty, Al smiled. She loved that little boy so much. It had been a journey learning how to be his mom, but they had learned together. She was a single 23 year old when the courts gave her custody of the tiny 3 month baby. Hacing kids was never something that she saw for herself, but tyler changed that. He'd been the perfect baby as she learned how to be a mom. Al also knew that Jess was probably up there in heaven helping them out loads too. "Hey Ty, grandma is gonna come stay with you for a little bit, okay? I'll be back in a little bit." At the sound of her voice, Ty stood up and walked over to her. "But why mommy Ali? I want to go with you." He pouted and clinged to her leg. "Ty, we talked about this." That pout face always ate away at her heart. "I won't be long. And grandma said that you guys are going to make cookies. That will be fun. Just made sure you save me some!" Picking him up, she hugged him. "I promise I will be back to tuck you in tonight." He looked into her eyes and nodded. "Okay. I love you mommy." He wrapped his arms around her neck and hugged her tight. Letting out a shaky breath, Ali had to fight to keep from crying. "I love you too, Ty." Hearing her mom at the door, Ali set Ty back down on the ground. "Grandma's here. Go on and open the door."
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Leaving him was always hard. Ali knew that he was in good hands, but Tyler was her world and she loved every day that she got to spend with him. He was her little gift that Jessica and left behind for her. Walking into the diner, Ali looked around. He hadn't arrived yet. It would give her a minute to calm down and chill out before he did. Seeing him again and trying to figure out how they were going to make this work was going to be strange and extremely difficult. He was Ty's dad, but she had been his mom for a solid 4 years now. A waiter brought her to a booth and said she'd be right with her. Getting comfortable, she took out her phone to see if he had called her. |
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| 10 Year High School Reunion |
[Apr. 23rd, 2014|12:18 am] |
Preferences: Het or platonic
Warnings: None at the moment (past notes of possible "hot for teacher")
It had been years since Jared Castor seen his students. Not so long in the grand scheme of things perhaps but it felt like more. Mostly because he'd never forgotten about her. His attention had been wholly inappropriate and they had both known it. It had never gone anywhere. He wasn't the sort but he definitely felt nervous tonight. He'd dutifully skipped the five year reunion because that would always be too soon but now it was the tenth and he couldn't stay away. He had to know how she was. What did she look like now? What was she doing? Was she happy? He couldn't believe that after all of this time the thought of her could still make his palms go clammy.
The whole thing was planned to happen in the gymnasium of the school - nostalgia and all the good things that came with it supposedly - but the venue had to be changed at the last minute because of a pipe that burst in the girls' bathroom. The reunion had been moved offsite to a hotel with a large, accommodating ballroom lined with tables of hors d'oeuvres and more-than-likely-spiked punch bowls. He dutifully wore his name tag, sipped the punch, and nervously anticipated - albeit beneath a calm exterior - her arrival. |
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[Apr. 19th, 2014|08:05 pm] |
Preferences: Platonic
Warnings: None
For as long as Carey had worked in customer service, he wasn't very good at serving actual customers. After working on a cruise ship for over 20 years, he'd recently found his land legs again and was now the night manager of a hotel. Because he worked at night, his employees all seemed to be the lesser staff members, the ones who couldn't be trusted to deal with the high volume of phone calls and check-ins during the daytime hours, but who probably wouldn't screw it up if a guest asked for a tooth brush or razor at 9 p.m. Carey, who liked to delegate every single one of his responsibilities was not pleased to have a crew of lazy morons on his hands, and he took the opportunity to make that known whenever possible.
On Monday night, he was on the warpath because someone had abandoned his or her post at the main desk just when a woman with a screaming baby had come down to the lobby to say she was locked out of her room. Because his underlings were nowhere to be found, Carey had been forced to issue the woman a second key card, and to endure the unpleasant wailing of her ugly offspring. Then he'd had to listen while the woman repeatedly thanked him for his help and offered everything but the tip he would have happily accepted.
Angry now, Carey came back down to the lobby in the elevator, then stormed into the small office just behind the desk. Addressing no one in particular, since he had no idea who had actually been shirking his or her duties, he roared, "Well? Which one of you am I firing?" |
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[Apr. 19th, 2014|08:01 pm] |
Preferences: Het or platonic.
Warnings: None.
Get a dog, Ken, they'd all said. You'll love it. It will be great. Ha, thought Ken Kirby as he and his giant mutt jogged up the hill to the dog park. Fat chance. So far, having a dog pretty much sucked. He'd gotten the dog to stave off the loneliness a man often felt when he was 45 years old and still utterly single. His female friends at work - all married - had said that a dog would offer him companionship, unconditional love, and a reason to leave the house. They had failed to mention that the dog would be in his face 24/7 and that he would be forced to leave the house early in the morning and late at night, depending on the dog's whims. He'd named the dog Pal, because he thought that seemed like a good name for man's best friend, but the dog had been anything but a pal since he'd come home with him two weeks ago. He'd been a royal pain in the ass.
Today's excursion to the dog park was an attempt to achieve two outcomes: one, to get the dog to run off some of his excess energy so he'd stop leaping all over Ken's house, and two, to hopefully meet a couple of other dog owners who could talk Ken down from the ledge and convince him not to give away his new friend. As Pal took off at top speed and dragged Ken through the gate into the park, Ken was relieved to be able to let go of the leash. As Pal began running a wild lap around the perimeter of the yard, Ken stopped to catch his breath, plopping down on a bench and letting out a big sigh. |
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[Apr. 19th, 2014|02:53 pm] |
ABOUT THIS COMMUNITY
Threading Only is an open community for roleplayers who like to write. No application, no examples, no PB list, no activity requirement, minimal mod involvement. Simply start the scene you would like to write and wait for someone to join you. Allow lines to develop organically, and stretch your writing muscles without having to fill out lengthy applications or figure out every last character detail ahead of time.
HOW TO JOIN
Request membership with a journal (OOC or IC, your choice). As of right now, the community is open, so you will not have to wait to be added. When you add yourself to the group, you agree to play by the rules listed below.
RULES
- Indicate preferences (smut/fade to black, slash/het/platonic, etc.) and warnings (NSFW, specific triggers, etc.) in the header of your post. Place adult content under a cut.
- Do not advertise for specific lines in
![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif) pbads or other ad communities. threadingonly is about organic character and plot development with no pre-planning. Save your established lines for communities and PSLs. You may, however, post to pbads to promote the community or to ask for responses to a specific thread you have already started.
- There is no guarantee that this community will exist on IJ forever. You are strongly advised to back up your writing somewhere else if you wish to save it.
- Only threads are allowed in threadingonly. All other types of posts (journal entries, gifs, memes, ooc posts, etc.) will be deleted.
- Though there is no formal activity requirement, this community will have the best chance of thriving if you post your own scenes AND reply to those posted by others.
- If problems arise that require a mod, comment here. (You can also send a PM to imaginaryfriend, but you must comment to say you have done so.)
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