[St. Hap's] The finish line!
Well, my lovelies, we did it. It's the end of November.
Congratulations, one and all!
*throws confetti*
It's been a hard road, but we made it! For me, the best part has been that we made it together. The support and kindness that I've seen at St. Hap's this year has been amazing to behold. Gang, you inspire me and bring me great joy. I know I've said that before, but it remains true. So much so, that I really can't say it enough. Thank you for participating, for sharing how you work past blocks and run with inspiration over this month and for rustling those pom poms with such passion. You are superstars.
Accordingly, take as many of these as you want. Stick 'em up all over the place so you'll remember the victories that you've achieved this month.
Since it's been a while since I've shared any of the fruits of my labor, I've got a snippet as part of my offering for the potluck.
The house is quiet when Gerard finally pads out of the basement. The front hallway light is on, as it's been on for nights now. Not that this is new - it's always left on when his mother is expecting them home. Reflected through the front windows, the light casts strange, pointed shadows across the living room. Gerard thinks of leaving candles burning for the dead, so that they can find their way back to their loved ones. He thinks of jack-o-lanterns [Frank, he thinks of Frank] and how they protect, repelling evil spirits. None of this is new - this combination of familiar thoughts hitched on rooms from his childhood part of the late-night routine that comes with being home. But Gerard feels like he's still dreaming. The carpet fibers drag against the bottom of his bare feet, like they are trying to pull him back, keep him from opening the front door. He watches as his hand - he knows it's his hand, with the nails bitten down, the faint bruise across the right knuckles - reaches out for the door knob.
He slips the locks, the slide of metal on metal a quiet conversation, pushes the door open slowly. If this was a horror movie, there'd be the long, rusty scream of old hinges to accompany the reveal. But it's not a horror movie. It's not a dream either. This is real life - one with happy endings, though. Because Mikey is sitting on the porch steps, leaning his shoulder against the railing. Gerard stares, mouth hanging open, at the familiar curves of shoulders and back.
"Mikey?"
Mikey turns on the step and smiles up at him. He doesn't have his glasses and his eyes gleam, dark beneath his bird's nest of bangs.
"Hey Gee."
Everything snaps into sharp, clear focus then and he's rushing out to the porch and pulling his brother into his arms.
"Mikey! I've been so worried, you fucker! We've all been worried and searching for you..."
"I'm sorry, Gee. I didn't mean to worry you. How long has it been?" His voice is calm.
"Four days, asshole."
"Huh."
Mikey's only wearing his blue t-shirt and Gerard frowns. He rubs his hands briskly down his brother's arms. "Jesus, Mikey You're freezing. Come on, you need to come..."
There's suddenly a hand covering Gerard's mouth. He blinks in surprise at his brother. Mikey's hand is cold and firm.
"No, Gee. I think it's best if I stay outside. Uninvited."
He watches Gerard steadily as he speaks. A shiver jitters its way up Gerard's spine as the words sink in. Mikey waits a beat longer, then moves his hand away.
"Really?" Gerard asks, he can't help glancing at Mikey's throat. He sees unbroken skin, but there's a dark stain on the collar of Mikey's shirt. He meets his brother's eyes again.
Mikey nodded, gaze never leaving his brother's face.
"Fuck."
"Yeah."
They sit side by side, and stare out at the street. In the distance, a dog barks.
"Well, you can't go around like that. It's cold out. You'll be noticed."
Gerard stands, and turns to go back into the house. "What clothes do you want... ?"
Mikey shrugged. "Something dark. Something that blends."
Gerard nodded. Mikey grabbed his wrist. His fingers are like iron bands encircling the bones.
"You want to get dressed too, Gee. And maybe leave Mom and Dad a note."
For a moment, Gerard can't think. He's lightheaded, dizzy with his brother's words. Mikey doesn't let go, just waits.
"Yeah. Yeah, okay."
Mikey smiles and lets him go.
Gerard goes inside to find the clothes he wants to die in.
~~~
To celebrate the writing done and challenges met, I'd like to propose a Comment-Free-For-All.
*checks the microphone*
St. Happenstance's Coffeehouse and Home for Wayward Plot Bunnies presents, for your enjoyment:
A Comment Fic Free-For-All
The rules:
Rules? Who needs 'em!
The point here is to roll around in some words and have fun. The challenges of November are over! It's time to play and write something wee and ridiculous. Write a poem! Write in a fandom you don't normally or even write with original characters. Use someone else's comment as a jumping off point for your own. I'll say it again - the point is to have fun and get the words spilling out. Write crack! Write porn! Write haiku! Write about feral rocking horses, plotting to free their toy-store bound bethern! All you have to do is open a comment box and start typing.
Some words: hurly-burly, withering, tangerine, scissors, lighthouse, turnpike, hardscrabble, fluffy
Some longer prompts:
"What the symbols on the map mean at dusk."
"Drinking from the cup, without checking the contents."
"And unexpected opportunity to test new super powers."
A bit of verse:
I was ready for a new experience.
All the old ones had burned out.
They lay in little ashy heaps along the roadside
And blew in drifts across the fairgrounds and fields.
From a distance some appeared to be smouldering
But when I approached with my hat in my hands
They let out small puffs of smoke and expired.
-from The New Experience, by Suzanne Buffam
Feel free to use anything in this post as a leaping off point for comment fic. And please do drop more prompts - words or images work - to add to the inspiration pile. I'll add them to list as they appear.
~~~
Whoops, can't forget the last check-in!
Today I was definitely in more of an organizational frame of mind. But I did get 764 words. Some vampires, some more gangly chunks that will become poems. It was a good ending for this adventure.
Again, thank you, gang. St. Hap's is just a pipe dream without you. As always, it's been an honor and a pleasure to share this time with you.
The floor is open.
Congratulations, one and all!
*throws confetti*
It's been a hard road, but we made it! For me, the best part has been that we made it together. The support and kindness that I've seen at St. Hap's this year has been amazing to behold. Gang, you inspire me and bring me great joy. I know I've said that before, but it remains true. So much so, that I really can't say it enough. Thank you for participating, for sharing how you work past blocks and run with inspiration over this month and for rustling those pom poms with such passion. You are superstars.
Accordingly, take as many of these as you want. Stick 'em up all over the place so you'll remember the victories that you've achieved this month.
Since it's been a while since I've shared any of the fruits of my labor, I've got a snippet as part of my offering for the potluck.
The house is quiet when Gerard finally pads out of the basement. The front hallway light is on, as it's been on for nights now. Not that this is new - it's always left on when his mother is expecting them home. Reflected through the front windows, the light casts strange, pointed shadows across the living room. Gerard thinks of leaving candles burning for the dead, so that they can find their way back to their loved ones. He thinks of jack-o-lanterns [Frank, he thinks of Frank] and how they protect, repelling evil spirits. None of this is new - this combination of familiar thoughts hitched on rooms from his childhood part of the late-night routine that comes with being home. But Gerard feels like he's still dreaming. The carpet fibers drag against the bottom of his bare feet, like they are trying to pull him back, keep him from opening the front door. He watches as his hand - he knows it's his hand, with the nails bitten down, the faint bruise across the right knuckles - reaches out for the door knob.
He slips the locks, the slide of metal on metal a quiet conversation, pushes the door open slowly. If this was a horror movie, there'd be the long, rusty scream of old hinges to accompany the reveal. But it's not a horror movie. It's not a dream either. This is real life - one with happy endings, though. Because Mikey is sitting on the porch steps, leaning his shoulder against the railing. Gerard stares, mouth hanging open, at the familiar curves of shoulders and back.
"Mikey?"
Mikey turns on the step and smiles up at him. He doesn't have his glasses and his eyes gleam, dark beneath his bird's nest of bangs.
"Hey Gee."
Everything snaps into sharp, clear focus then and he's rushing out to the porch and pulling his brother into his arms.
"Mikey! I've been so worried, you fucker! We've all been worried and searching for you..."
"I'm sorry, Gee. I didn't mean to worry you. How long has it been?" His voice is calm.
"Four days, asshole."
"Huh."
Mikey's only wearing his blue t-shirt and Gerard frowns. He rubs his hands briskly down his brother's arms. "Jesus, Mikey You're freezing. Come on, you need to come..."
There's suddenly a hand covering Gerard's mouth. He blinks in surprise at his brother. Mikey's hand is cold and firm.
"No, Gee. I think it's best if I stay outside. Uninvited."
He watches Gerard steadily as he speaks. A shiver jitters its way up Gerard's spine as the words sink in. Mikey waits a beat longer, then moves his hand away.
"Really?" Gerard asks, he can't help glancing at Mikey's throat. He sees unbroken skin, but there's a dark stain on the collar of Mikey's shirt. He meets his brother's eyes again.
Mikey nodded, gaze never leaving his brother's face.
"Fuck."
"Yeah."
They sit side by side, and stare out at the street. In the distance, a dog barks.
"Well, you can't go around like that. It's cold out. You'll be noticed."
Gerard stands, and turns to go back into the house. "What clothes do you want... ?"
Mikey shrugged. "Something dark. Something that blends."
Gerard nodded. Mikey grabbed his wrist. His fingers are like iron bands encircling the bones.
"You want to get dressed too, Gee. And maybe leave Mom and Dad a note."
For a moment, Gerard can't think. He's lightheaded, dizzy with his brother's words. Mikey doesn't let go, just waits.
"Yeah. Yeah, okay."
Mikey smiles and lets him go.
Gerard goes inside to find the clothes he wants to die in.
~~~
To celebrate the writing done and challenges met, I'd like to propose a Comment-Free-For-All.
*checks the microphone*
St. Happenstance's Coffeehouse and Home for Wayward Plot Bunnies presents, for your enjoyment:
A Comment Fic Free-For-All
The rules:
Rules? Who needs 'em!
The point here is to roll around in some words and have fun. The challenges of November are over! It's time to play and write something wee and ridiculous. Write a poem! Write in a fandom you don't normally or even write with original characters. Use someone else's comment as a jumping off point for your own. I'll say it again - the point is to have fun and get the words spilling out. Write crack! Write porn! Write haiku! Write about feral rocking horses, plotting to free their toy-store bound bethern! All you have to do is open a comment box and start typing.
Some words: hurly-burly, withering, tangerine, scissors, lighthouse, turnpike, hardscrabble, fluffy
Some longer prompts:
"What the symbols on the map mean at dusk."
"Drinking from the cup, without checking the contents."
"And unexpected opportunity to test new super powers."
A bit of verse:
I was ready for a new experience.
All the old ones had burned out.
They lay in little ashy heaps along the roadside
And blew in drifts across the fairgrounds and fields.
From a distance some appeared to be smouldering
But when I approached with my hat in my hands
They let out small puffs of smoke and expired.
-from The New Experience, by Suzanne Buffam
Feel free to use anything in this post as a leaping off point for comment fic. And please do drop more prompts - words or images work - to add to the inspiration pile. I'll add them to list as they appear.
~~~
Whoops, can't forget the last check-in!
Today I was definitely in more of an organizational frame of mind. But I did get 764 words. Some vampires, some more gangly chunks that will become poems. It was a good ending for this adventure.
Again, thank you, gang. St. Hap's is just a pipe dream without you. As always, it's been an honor and a pleasure to share this time with you.
The floor is open.