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St. Trinian's fic, a prompt table (Part I, four yet to come)
by Me
Pairing: Kelly Jones/Annabelle Fritton (except for a couple)
Rating: G - R
Notes: For my wifelet, because she was in Germany and Scotland and I was bored
Prompt #1: Ring
It’s a simple little coral ring that Annabelle bought when her father dragged her to Brighton over the holidays, a rough etching of a bunny decorating the peach and white band. She’s embarrassed about how plain it is and how Kelly will probably think it’s stupid and childish, but she still offers it, cheeks flushed. “Will you be my girlfriend, Kelly?”
Prompt #2: Hero
It’s not just that she saved St. Trinian’s or because she survived being the new girl over and over or because Annabelle caught her putting a fledgling sparrow back in its nest, shoving away one of the school cats. Those reasons count, but there are a million others why Kelly is Annabelle’s hero.
Prompt #3: Memory
Dear Kelly,
It’s only been six months since we graduated St. T’s and you went off to Cambridge. Three months since I got to Oxford and met my prissy roommate, Alicia. The first time she saw me putting whiskey in my tea at night, she nearly imploded, sort of the way I did the first time I saw you do it. Do you remember that?
I miss you, love,
Your Annabelle
Prompt #4: Box
“Kelly, it isn’t funny,” Annabelle gestures of her girlfriend with the open ring box from her prone position on the couch in the flat they’ve shared for two years. Kelly keeps giggling, “It is! If you’d seen your face…”she sobers. “I want to marry you, Annabelle. It’s kind of traditional, and I didn’t expect you to swoon like some shy maiden, but there it is. Please say yes?” She looks up at Annabelle’s face expectantly.
Prompt #5: Run
Verity Thwaites looks angry, very angry. In fact, judging from her apoplectic complexion, Verity hasn’t forgotten the ball she took to the face in the last St. Trinian’s/Cheltenham match and now she intends to take it out of Annabelle in blood . She has a lead on any St. T’s girl who could stop her, so there’s only one way Kelly can protect Annabelle. She screams, “Run!”
Prompt #6: Hurricane
“Your corner is boring as hell, Annabelle, and there's no reason it should be. You need decorations and you need them now.” An hour later, Hurricane Kelly has passed and the walls of Annabelle’s previously unadorned little piece of the dorms are plastered with poster reproductions of classic works of art and her bed is made with soft blue silk sheets and a quilted comforter. It isn’t until later that Annabelle realizes that all of the art is of naked women.
Prompt #7: Wings
The last thing Annabelle expected to see at the annual St. Trinian’s Halloween dance was Kelly Jones all in white sporting a pair of fluffy, glittery white wings and a halo. She herself had had no opportunity to work out a costume, so she wrapped herself in a sheet (with historically accurate pinning, courtesy of Polly and the Internet), Celia coiled her hair intricately around her head, and Tania (or Tara?) handed her a golden harp, prized from one of the sculptures of cherubs in the main hall, and she was pronounced an accurate likeness of a Muse. A Muse currently tongue-tied at the sight of Kelly in a choir robe (altered to be a little lower necked and shorter.) looking, except for the incongruously black hair, exactly like what Annabelle thinks an angel should look like.
Prompt #8: Cold
The final four days of the Christmas holiday, Annabelle is really really sorry she chose to stay at St. Trinian’s, even though the alternative was weeks in her father’s flat catering to his new, young, and incredibly vapid girlfriend while her father was on a buying trip to Venice. St. T’s was fine, quiet and empty, but least not annoying. Then, Tuesday night, the heating went out and it snowed and the old mansion turned into an oversized refrigerator. Annabelle huddles under a blanket on the couch in the student lounge, thinking longingly of Kelly’s warm study.
Prompt #9: Red
Kelly forgot. Neither of them notice until they’re both sprawled, sated, on the soft rug in front of the fireplace in Kelly’s study. Appropriately, it’s Kelly who realizes first and she gasps in mingled horror and amusement. “Oh, fuck! Annabelle, I wasn’t thinking, I’m so sorry!” Annabelle lifts herself up on her elbows to see what the problem is. She gapes and then bursts out laughing at the trails of bright red lip prints that decorate her torso.
Prompt #10: Drink
“Drink.” Annabelle’s voice is steely with resolve. “Won’t.” Kelly’s voice, hoarse, tries for the same amount of determination and fails. “Do it, Kelly. You won’t get well unless you take your medicine and I’m not sleeping with you again until you’re over this damn flu.” Kelly pouts, but she knows her own self interest. She drinks.
by Me
Pairing: Kelly Jones/Annabelle Fritton (except for a couple)
Rating: G - R
Notes: For my wifelet, because she was in Germany and Scotland and I was bored
Prompt #1: Ring
It’s a simple little coral ring that Annabelle bought when her father dragged her to Brighton over the holidays, a rough etching of a bunny decorating the peach and white band. She’s embarrassed about how plain it is and how Kelly will probably think it’s stupid and childish, but she still offers it, cheeks flushed. “Will you be my girlfriend, Kelly?”
Prompt #2: Hero
It’s not just that she saved St. Trinian’s or because she survived being the new girl over and over or because Annabelle caught her putting a fledgling sparrow back in its nest, shoving away one of the school cats. Those reasons count, but there are a million others why Kelly is Annabelle’s hero.
Prompt #3: Memory
Dear Kelly,
It’s only been six months since we graduated St. T’s and you went off to Cambridge. Three months since I got to Oxford and met my prissy roommate, Alicia. The first time she saw me putting whiskey in my tea at night, she nearly imploded, sort of the way I did the first time I saw you do it. Do you remember that?
I miss you, love,
Your Annabelle
Prompt #4: Box
“Kelly, it isn’t funny,” Annabelle gestures of her girlfriend with the open ring box from her prone position on the couch in the flat they’ve shared for two years. Kelly keeps giggling, “It is! If you’d seen your face…”she sobers. “I want to marry you, Annabelle. It’s kind of traditional, and I didn’t expect you to swoon like some shy maiden, but there it is. Please say yes?” She looks up at Annabelle’s face expectantly.
Prompt #5: Run
Verity Thwaites looks angry, very angry. In fact, judging from her apoplectic complexion, Verity hasn’t forgotten the ball she took to the face in the last St. Trinian’s/Cheltenham match and now she intends to take it out of Annabelle in blood . She has a lead on any St. T’s girl who could stop her, so there’s only one way Kelly can protect Annabelle. She screams, “Run!”
Prompt #6: Hurricane
“Your corner is boring as hell, Annabelle, and there's no reason it should be. You need decorations and you need them now.” An hour later, Hurricane Kelly has passed and the walls of Annabelle’s previously unadorned little piece of the dorms are plastered with poster reproductions of classic works of art and her bed is made with soft blue silk sheets and a quilted comforter. It isn’t until later that Annabelle realizes that all of the art is of naked women.
Prompt #7: Wings
The last thing Annabelle expected to see at the annual St. Trinian’s Halloween dance was Kelly Jones all in white sporting a pair of fluffy, glittery white wings and a halo. She herself had had no opportunity to work out a costume, so she wrapped herself in a sheet (with historically accurate pinning, courtesy of Polly and the Internet), Celia coiled her hair intricately around her head, and Tania (or Tara?) handed her a golden harp, prized from one of the sculptures of cherubs in the main hall, and she was pronounced an accurate likeness of a Muse. A Muse currently tongue-tied at the sight of Kelly in a choir robe (altered to be a little lower necked and shorter.) looking, except for the incongruously black hair, exactly like what Annabelle thinks an angel should look like.
Prompt #8: Cold
The final four days of the Christmas holiday, Annabelle is really really sorry she chose to stay at St. Trinian’s, even though the alternative was weeks in her father’s flat catering to his new, young, and incredibly vapid girlfriend while her father was on a buying trip to Venice. St. T’s was fine, quiet and empty, but least not annoying. Then, Tuesday night, the heating went out and it snowed and the old mansion turned into an oversized refrigerator. Annabelle huddles under a blanket on the couch in the student lounge, thinking longingly of Kelly’s warm study.
Prompt #9: Red
Kelly forgot. Neither of them notice until they’re both sprawled, sated, on the soft rug in front of the fireplace in Kelly’s study. Appropriately, it’s Kelly who realizes first and she gasps in mingled horror and amusement. “Oh, fuck! Annabelle, I wasn’t thinking, I’m so sorry!” Annabelle lifts herself up on her elbows to see what the problem is. She gapes and then bursts out laughing at the trails of bright red lip prints that decorate her torso.
Prompt #10: Drink
“Drink.” Annabelle’s voice is steely with resolve. “Won’t.” Kelly’s voice, hoarse, tries for the same amount of determination and fails. “Do it, Kelly. You won’t get well unless you take your medicine and I’m not sleeping with you again until you’re over this damn flu.” Kelly pouts, but she knows her own self interest. She drinks.