I don't want to talk about it, callbacks go up tomorrow, and the cast list is posted next week.
Homecoming tomorrow, be prepared for dresspicspam.
UMUMUM, I WROTE MORE FIC.
Title: Teammates
Fandom: Hey Arnold!
Characters: Rhonda, Harold, Wolfgang, Helga, Arnold. (Others mentioned.)
Rating: PGish
Prompt: 026
( Teammates... )
Links to the others, 'cause I'm just procrastinating going to bed now.
Prompts 035, 005, and 056.
Prompts 009, 067, and 034.
Prompts 001, 002, and 003.
- Mood:
sleepy
My Spred fic, Fine Lines was nominated over at Sunnydale Memorial Fanfiction Awards! The fic was nominated for Best Characterization, and Unconventional Pairing. So pleased, and totally honored, it's stuff like this that make me enjoy writing.
Check out the site here, and my story here.
*bouncebounce*
- Mood:
chipper
I blame
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
beyondheroism__for addicting me to these two. And by proxy, keeping me up so late. I'm totally determined to see this fanfic100 through to the end, along with finishing my Spred fic. If I do that, they'll be the first full-length fanfiction projects I've ever completed.
So that'll be a nice acchievement.
BTW, not wearing pants.
Title: Breakfast
Fandom: Hey Arnold!
Characters: Harold, Rhonda
Prompt: 056
Rating: G
( Breakfast )
Title: Sixth Sense
Fandom: Hey Arnold!
Characters: Rhonda, Harold, various cast.
Prompt: 035
Rating: pg
( Listen to 'Get Your Hands off my Girl' by Good Charlotte for this one. It always makes me feel like I should defend my woman's honor. And I don't even like girls. )
( Sixth Sense )
Title: Outsides
Fandom: Hey Arnold!
Characters: Harold, Rhonda.
Prompt: 005
Rating: G
( Outsides )
(You know, appearances... outsides... Yeah.)
- Mood:
determined
Ah whatever. I got a couple of cute ideas.
I'm feeling pretty suck today. Kind of... every now and then I look at myself in the mirror, and I hate my body. Stretchmarks, flabby thighs and upper arms, big old gut and just... I dunno. I joke about being a sexy bitch and say that the more of me there is, the more there is to love, but I guess over time... I hate my body.
It's not that I care what other people think, me personally though... I hate it.
I hate physically exerting myself, but hey, let's face it, that won't lose me the forty pounds I want to shed.
I'd like to one day be able to wear a bathing suit without hiding my thighs and arms.
It'd be easier if I had a friend exercising with me, I think.
Meh...
- Mood:
gloomy
I decided to follow a little bit of a story, explain why Rhonda left in the last one I did, and her subsequent return. Now pardon me, as it's eleven at night and I still haven't showered yet.
Title: Months
Fandom: Hey Arnold!
Characters: Harold, Sid
Prompt: 009
Rating: G
( Months. )
Title: Snow
Fandom: Hey Arnold!
Characters: Harold, Rhonda.
Prompt: 067
Rating: PG
( Snow. )
Title: Not Enough.
Fandom: Hey Arnold!
Characters: Harold, Rhonda.
Prompt: 034
Rating: NWS, omg, wtf, Alison wrote smut.
( Not Enough... NWS )
- Mood:
cold - Music:Fireflies-- Owl City
This is how we sleep every night. Littlefoot is my best friend, seriously. Most cuddly cat ever.
edit: aacckkk what the hell I look so strange when I'm asleep.
- Mood:
bouncy
beyondheroism__ and I agree that there is not enough Harold/Rhonda in the world. Back to my Spred fic, after this strange interlude.Title: Beginnings
Fandom: Hey Arnold!
Characters: Harold, Rhonda, HaroldRhondababy, various characters, and some Helga/Arnold established romantic bickering.
Prompt: 001
Rating: G
( Beginnings )
Title: Middles
Fandom: Hey Arnold!
Characters: Rhonda, Harold
Prompt: 002
Rating: G
( Middles )
Title: Endings
Fandom: Hey Arnold!
Characters: Arnold, Harold
Prompt: 003
Rating: PG
NOTE: This one is probably my worst out of this trio. Arnold's totally unhelpful and kind of lacking tact. I don't know what led up to this moment in time, but it's based off of Squirreltamer's sixth little square here. I hate writing sad Rhonda/Harold. ;_;
( Endings )
- Mood:
groggy - Music:Falling for the First Time-- BNL
I'unno, man. You're talking to a chick who openly believes in Paranormal Activity, who saw the Jersey Devil, but the concept of the Government hiding Zombies...? Just doesn't seem plausible that the government COULD hide it, what with how stuff gets around these days. If Zombies pop up, I feel like we'd know about it, you know? And it wouldn't be limited to Zombie Wikia articles that get their source information from George Romero.
Maybe it's just me.
- Mood: sleepy
So, Alison. What have YOU been doing all week that you've had off school?
Why, watching NCIS!
(I'm really not an artist, but I thought Tony and McGee came out looking cute.)
THIS SHOW. IS EATING. MY BRAAAAAAAAAIN.
- Mood:
amused - Music:Fidelity--Regina Spektor
My family is the sort of family that very often randomly finds relatives we didn't know we had.
But, it's not often we find one while my mom is checking the Florida news.
Mom's family stretches through the Fowler line, all the way down in the Florida Everglades. Mom's Great-Uncle Truman was the ferry driver on the Suwannee River until he got sick and died. The rest of his family died in a car accident some years later.
Or so we believed.
Two sons, Everett Orby Fowler and his older brother, are still alive. Everett survived the crash, and his brother wasn't in the car. My cousin Everett is 49 now, and lives homeless in Florida. My mom found an article about him while checking a paper she reads from down there.
His father Truman Fowler was my mom's Uncle, which I am pretty sure makes him my cousin.
He doesn't know how to read, in school he would become horribly frustrated, and simply couldn't learn. ADHD runs pretty heavily in our family. Cousin Everett says in the article that the hardest part about being homeless is being alone. But he isn't alone, he has family all up here in Jersey, and he has relatives in Florida that he just doesn't know about. He says the only photo he has is one of the ferry to remind him of his childhood, and we have pictures of his family! We have pictures of Truman Fowler, his father.
He says the one thing he wants most is to stand on his own two feet, have his own place. I don't know how, but my mom and I are going to help him do that. Mom is going to try and get ahold of him via the newspaper we got the article from, and work on helping him down there in Florida with our cousin Christine, who is a judge.
No Fowler or Farrell gets left behind.
- Mood:
blank
So I just read this article and quite frankly, these so-called 'Pirates' need to do a little research.
What happened to the days when Pirates looted ships, antagonised people, then went on their merry way? Why do they need to hold hostages? It's not like authorities are seriously going to fuck with them out in international waters, it's not like if they let the people leave safely they're going to be found.
What happened to the days when Pirates had some form of decency? Most pirate ships, from Bartholomew Roberts to Edward Low, had, da-da-da-DAA: a code of conduct/ethics.
I did a little digging, and in most of the piratical codes on record, they have a rule similar to this of John Phillips' code. (captain of 'The Revenge'.)
V. That Man that shall strike another whilst these Articles are in force, shall receive Moses’s Law (that is, 40 Stripes lacking one) on the bare Back.
There are also a bunch of nuggets that claim 'No snapping of guns', which pretty much means 'Hey jackass, don't threaten anybody on board. Who hired him?'
Piracy's existed for hundreds of years, I don't expect it to stop or get any better. But dammit, people, where did the decency go? When pirates looted ships, doled it out, voted democratically whether to kill or not kill the people onboard the other ship, and then left. Why is it that the Somalian pirates are stripping everything of value, then holding people hostage? Couldn't they do the slightly more intelligent thing of stealing all the person's stuff, then dropping them off on some mildly populated island before high-tailing it outta there, so they don't have to deal with the distinct possibility of getting their asses handed to them when they ask for a ransom? Are they that confident in their abilities?
Frankly, I'd trust John Rackham if he had a blood-stained cutlass at my throat than a scrawny Somali man with an Assault Rifle.
Because man, John Rackham had class!
- Mood: groggy
Jesus H. Tapdancing Christ, Facebook. Look what you do to me.
French Project done.(sortof)
Need to do English paper.
Need to do Creative Writing essay.
Algebra 2, done.
Chemistry, done.
American History, test tomorrow.
Boyfriend? Broken up with, mutually, still pals. (That was a waste of a week and a half.)
BE KIND TO ARACHNIDS THIS WEEK. IT'S ARACHNID WEEK, LOOK IT UP. (Invented by my very own creative writing teacher.)
Oh God, I need to go to sleep.
- Mood:
awake
I'm gonna let you in on a little secret.
Since seventh grade or so, I've been secretly lusting after Christian Scherm. He's fucking batshit insane, but in my mind he hides fears and insecurities behind the crazy. I have always dropped hints around him, the very few times I've ever been close enough to drop hints, anyway. You'll be amused to learn that more often than not, I am not flirting or attempting to garner romantic attention.
Nope, I'm looking for friendship.
Just, roll with me on this, mmkay?
Most of the time, if I'm trying my best to make you laugh, or if it seems like I'm flirting, I really just want to get to be your pal. Purely because I never developed the skills of friendly conversation with my own age bracket. I only ever learned mildly-stalkerish tendencies of talking loudly while that person is in earshot, and doing my damndest to be near them at all times. I never learned standard 'friendship' protocol, so that's what I do.
It either ends one of two ways- Success, or horrid failure. See, I can make friends with just about anybody, because I'm a pretty diverse person. I have no singular view on politics or religion, I don't descriminate or dislike people for who or what they are, what they look like or believe in. I have many diverse tastes in music, games, social stuffs, and I can string together a good few anecdotes and jokes. I am always, without fail, a shoulder to lean on if someone needs me to be. I'm not trying to toot my own horn here, I by no means claim to be emotionally stable for all the people I care about, but I have made it my goal in life to always be there for a person if they need me. It's just the maternal, snuggly person I am.
(and I have been told I am quite snuggly.)
So tomorrow is another day where I can try and befriend Christian Scherm, in my own strange, inexperienced way.
I don't really know why I'm writing this all down. It just felt like the thing to do right this moment.
If nothing else, it was cathartic.
- Mood: blank
So I lied last time about not much being up.
Thursday before last, I was asked to be Anthony Sabelli's girlfriend. I accepted, of course. We'd been crushing on each other without knowing the other was for weeks. I asked him if maybe we could go to the movies that weekend, but I got sick and asked if we could take a rain check, seeing as I would really hate to get him sick too. (That's not very girlfriendly, really, getting your man sick on the first date.) He said it was okay, he had plans. With his Aunt.
We didn't talk for more than fifteen minutes after that. All week long. No texts, no IMs, no facebook chat, no emails, no calls, when I make jokes and smile at him in Gym class, he giggles at me, and talks to Ramones and Fischer about football.
Today I sat down and tried to talk to him about our lack of communication. I don't ask for much, really, a hug here and there, maybe a smooch, but for the love of God, talk to me. Talk to me about nothing at all, anything. The other day he walked right past me and said nothing, so Jhestarri shouted across the parking lot why he doesn't 'Talk to his girl'. He shrugged, unsure of what to say.
Text message later that night:
'Hey I know we haven't talked much. I'm not good at making conversation."
'Yeah, and I'm not good for much other than making bad jokes... :('
'lol'
*twenty minutes later*
'Whats your favorite food?'
And that was it. So, today I sat down and tried to talk this out with him. Why don't we talk? About anything? I though relationships involved communication. His response? "Well, since neither of us really know what to say, I don't see the problem."
Dammit, that IS the problem.
Everybody, Fischer, Liz, Steph, they keep telling me to 'give him a chance', I thought the chance I gave him was being his girlfriend? I thought the chance was 'Hey, I really like you. You're funny, smart, and kind, let's be something more.' What other chances am I supposed to give? They make me feel friggin' guilty, like I'm the one whose not trying hard enough.
And I'm on my period and I feel fffffffffffffeotywe;fq;fhvm
I have bronchitus-ridden lungs.
Backpain.
And a questionable relationship.
What a week.
- Mood:
crushed - Music:Cheap Trick-- 'I want you to want me'
Title: Tunnel O' Love
Rating: Very G
Summary: What exactly happened after Rhonda dragged Harold into the Tunnel of Love... Rhonda/Harold
Stuff: I do not own Hey Arnold! Craig Bartlett does.
( Click for Fic!! )
- Mood:
calm
Dude, last night was sooooo much fun. I won 'Most Creative Costume', which was weird seeing as there was definitely way better outfits than mine. Plus, I cobbled mine together in all of twenty minutes with stuff we just happen to have in our house.
( Picspam!! )
- Mood:
busy
Uhhhh. Nothing MUCH to report, really.
Oh! I'm sick, yeah, there's that. Erm.
La la la la la la la~
- Mood:
bored
Title: Shove With Your Hips.
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Spike/Fred
Summary: Fred and Spike take part in an old teenage pasttime... (Probably takes place some inordinate amount of time after my fic Retrieval and Return.)
Notes: omgod. I've been so dead right now, with school and acting and all. But the other day I was listening to my sister talk about her exploits as a teenager and I thought about what Sock Monkey said about Fred and Spike like two big, crazy kids romping around, and was like- 'skdfwlkdhgf she would DO THAT.'
THIS is the result.
==========
- Mood:
tired - Music:Michael Franti-- 'Say Hey(I love you)
For those curious, my Creative Writing teacher assigned us to use a Thesaurus and write the most AWFUL purple prose fantasy. This is how far I've gotten on mine.
Oh, oh it makes me sad to look at it.
AAAUUUGGGHH I didn't do my ENGLISH homework on Benjamin Franklin's Autobiography!!
Shiiiiiiiiiit! Why did I wait until ten to do this? I still have to shower and sleep. ( Current feelings beneath cut. )( Current Feelings Beneath Cut. )
I've decided to take out my plan to be Beetlejuice for Halloween. Rather, I've decided to go as a Slasher character of mine.
See, last Halloween I got really into the great Maniac Murderer Movies of all Time. You know, Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhees- the greats. Well, I ended up writing this short story that included an origin/motive for a Serial killer character. She's this generic college girl, goes camping with some friends, and as a joke, they tie her to a tree while she's napping, planning to go back for her after an hour or so. Instead, a murderer whose been terrorizing the local town finds her, and drags her back to this little shack in the woods where he tortures her, and then cuts out her left eye.(I was watching a lot of serial killer documentaries, BTW, and I kept hearing about how some of them take 'souveniers'.)
So he kills her, dumps her in the woods, and she makes a pact with the Devil to come back with immortality, on the condition that she kill people for him. Her first act as Devil's Advocate(lololol) is slaughtering the man who killed her. After that, she kind of gains a taste for murder, and blah blah blah I never wrote an ending.
ANYHOW, she was effin' cool, because she wore a yellow hoodie, converse, and carried around a big carving knife. Combined with the bloody clothes and missing eye, wandering around in foggy woods and picking off panicky teenagers... well it was a fun concept at the time. So I'm going to put together a little costume and paint my face all Zombie Grey. It'll be sexy and creepy and NOBODY will get it but It'll still be fun.
Ooh, you know what, it'd be cool if at the end of her story, the survivors trap her in a cement mixer, and in the block of cement, all you see is her hand sticking out... and at the end, her fingers wiggle. I'm digging too into this.
I LOVE HALLOWEEN~
- Mood: busy
- Music:Michael Franti-- 'Say Hey(I love you)'
