Word Count for the Year, Entry 8
First off, everyone I roleplay with is retarded. They suffer from pure insanity that even *I* can't fathom sometimes. However, I love them and can't really do without them.
Being b/w a rock and a hard place SUCKS.
Anyways, on with the show!
16084 / 200000 words. 8% done!
I'm being a little. I HATE being behind, but I always crap out at the end of the week. I wish I knew of a way to fix that.
Haylee - Charloft Winter Bingo “Faith”
When Haylee had woken up, Sy hadn’t been there, but there had been a note, so she hadn’t been worried. Honestly, the letter had been utterly incomprehensible, but she would have been more worried about Sy if he had left a normal letter with a phone number on how to reach him. For some reason, him being stone cold sane in a moment scared her more than anything. He only seemed to fully come back to reality when something bad was going on, or he was remembering something bad that he didn’t like to talk about.
Which was why, around two in the morning, when she heard him walk in and simply call out her name, she had been more than a little freaked out. She had been writing at her computer (as always), but, as soon as she heard him in the other room, she was up and in the living room at supernatural speeds.
She found him flopped down on the sofa. Thankfully she hadn’t bothered to buy an expensive one, because he had just gotten in and he had already gotten blood all over it. He was holding his hand to his gut, and she could easily tell that was where the blood was coming from.
“Jesus CHRIST who did you piss off?” she asked, already tugging her shirt over her hand and pulling his hand away so that she could push the shirt against it to presumably help him keep his insides…inside. It wasn’t like she kept spare towels in the living room every time some nearly bleed to death in there.
“Deal went bad,” he mumbled, not seemingly in the mood to volunteer any other information.
“Well that much I can see,” she pointed out to him. “Let me go grab some towels or something.” She knew that the wound couldn’t get infected, but she did know that she needed to sew it up or something. She hoped that she had a sewing kit or a first aid kit or SOMETHING around this place so that she could help.
Twenty minutes later she was still only in her bra and a pair of shorts and was TRYING to sew the wound close so that maybe they can do SOMETHING.
“Ow that hurts!” he snapped at her, trying seemingly to pull away but not quite having the strength to do so.
“If you’d hold still it wouldn’t hurt as much!” she yelled right back. She’d never done this before. She had no idea if this would really work in the long run or not. She knew that vampires could heal the hell out of stuff but still wasn’t quite clear on the how. She chewed on her bottom lip as she finished up. “There. I have no idea if that’s going to hold as soon as you move, though. As least now your guts aren’t going to spill out.” As long as he laid there, anyway.
“I need to feed, Haylee,” Sy rumbled, even as he continued to lounge on the couch. “Help me up so that we can go get me something to eat.”
Something clicked then in Haylee head. “We can’t take you out the way you are. Even if you DON’T bust the stitches that I just spent all this time doing, you’ll do good not to accidentally hurt someone or something like that. You need something in your before we can even go out.”
“You don’t keep anything here.” He was right. She didn’t. She just didn’t like the idea of keeping blood packets in her home. Maybe she would after this, though. She was about to put A LOT of faith in him and she wasn’t sure that she’d be able to do this again.
If she survived it.
“I wasn’t talking about something that you keep in the fridge.” She pulled her hair off her neck and leaned forward. FUCK she hoped that she wasn’t making a mistake here.
“Are you sure?” he asked ever as he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her closer. “I mean…I don’t know…”
“You better fucking know! I’m putting a lot of trust in you, you ass!” She bit down on her bottom lip, wondering if she was doing the right thing here. If her heart still beat, it would be thundering in her chest right now. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear that she could still hear it.
He was always faster than her, even now that she was a vampire. Before she even had a real handle on the situation, he had yanked her over and sunk his fangs into her neck. Apparently one thing that didn’t change from human to vampire was how being bitten felt.
Her head dipped back and she whimpered, clutching his shoulder as he fed from her. As she started to get worried, he pulled back, still holding her even as his fangs retracted from her neck. Her head rolled around and rested it on his shoulder. One hand weakly reached up and clamped over her neck. She felt like she was already starving. They BOTH needed to go out now.
“You OK?” he asked. She shut her eyes and nodded as he stroked her hair for a moment. “We need to go, though. I still need more, and now you need some, too.”
“Yeah, sure,” Haylee said, finally pushing herself up off the sofa. GOD she was starving right now. She thought that her stomach was going to eat her insides or something. Sure, she got that her organs didn’t really WORK anymore, but it was how she still thought.
“And thanks,” he said to her with a slight smile.
“Yeah well, if you’re gone, I’m fucked,” she pointed out to him. “Let me just go put a shirt on and grab you something and we can go.”
“You’d get to feed a lot quicker if you left your shirt off.”
“GOD!! You’re a pervert even for a vampire.” Of course, she heard that some vampires were REAL freaks.
Mere - Charloft Winter Bingo “Goodwill”
“Why are we shopping at a Goodwill? Can’t you afford, like, high fashion or something?”
That was the voice of Deanna ringing in her ears. “Just because I can afford it doesn’t mean that I want to spend that damn much,” Mere said back, arms buried in the wrack that she was looking through at the moment. “Besides, I’ve been dressing myself hot out of Goodwill for years, so why give it up now just because I can afford more?”
“God you’re such a cheap bitch,” Deanna said with a giggle. Even as she was complaining, though, she was also looking through stuff and grabbing a few choice items for herself. Luckily, even though they both liked to dress skimpy, their styles were completely different. Deanna’s was more cute or seductive when she was going that route, but Mere’s was a lot more rocker chick.
“Says the bitch who’s buying that so sexy mini skirt,” Mere pointed out, pulling out a pair of leather pants that was a size too big, but she was sure that she could get them tailored to fit her. She was going to get them cut extra low, too. Then they would be awesome.
“Told you this place rocked,” Mere said with a satisfied smirk.
Haylee - Charloft Munday
1. What gender of character do you play or write most often? I’m not picky about characters, but they tend to be more female than male by default.
2. What age group do your characters tend to fall into? 20-30s. I have characters that are older and younger, though.
3. Do you tend to play or write characters that are outside your own demographics (different gender, ethnicity, or sexuality) or ones that are the same as your own? I tend to go with the idea that I had for a character. I’m not really picky about that, either.
4. Do you tend to write characters who are of a certain religious, political, or social class? Those tend to be all over the board.
5. Do your characters tend to have tragic or idealistic backgrounds? Both.
6. Why do you tend to choose to write for these types of characters? I’m not picky about writing for any certain ‘type’ of character. I kind of go with what inspires me. I will more often than not write characters that I relate to in some way or another, though.
7. Have you ever written / would you ever write a character outside your comfort zone? Why or why not? I have. I have two gay male characters now, which is something that for years I never wrote for. Not out of dislike for them or anything, but more as one never really popped into my head. One I enjoy writing now is a teenager bisexual male who is working toward dating another boy. Different than what I usually play, but I do relate to him in other ways.
Haylee - Charloft Tuesday
Two to Tango is a phrase that originated in a 1952 song by the same name. This idiom can mean that it takes two to quarrel, bargain, or cooperate to get something done.
Write about a time you needed two to tango.
I’m pretty sure I count under the idea of ALWAYS needing two to tango. I share my head with another person. He knows my every thought. I’m not sure if I COULD hide anything from him, as far as my thoughts and actions concerned.
Kind of freaky, when you think about it that way.
You say that like you’re worried I’d do something bad to you.
I know you wouldn’t. You’re part of what keeps me safe, remember? If you weren’t around in some capacity, I’d be a lot crazier. I couldn’t cope with being alone after finally befriending someone.
Well don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.
Be nice to not have to share my head, though.
We take what we can get.
Yeah yeah…
Haylee - Charloft Thursday
Tonight, give us 100 (or more) words about bravery.
Haylee shuffled on her feet as she waited for Sy to get back. He had made her basically dress like a five dollar hooker tonight while he made some shady sort of *deal* with a person. They had went off to talk while she stood by her car and waited. Goddamn her feet hurt in these shoes. He had bought these high heeled monstrosities and convinced her to wear a mini skirt and tiny tank as well, making sure that she worked as some sort of distraction again. All the people that he dealt with were freaks.
Suddenly she heard Sy’s voice raised and gunshots. Her head looked up just as Sy came running, holding a hand to his shoulder. “Start the car!” he yelled as he ran.
She jumped into the driver’s seat of the car and started it, peeling out of the parking lot just Sy jumped into the car, hitting the highway. Another car started to follow her, someone hanging out the window with a gun.
“What happened?” she called out to him, keeping her eyes on the road as she pushed her foot down harder on the gas pedal.
“Negotiations fell through,” Sy grumbled, grimacing slightly as he tried to get ahold of his own gun in the shoulder hoster that he had it in.
Haylee heard the pop of the gun in the next car, the feeling of tiny needles prickling her neck as the back windshield shattered. “DAMN!! I wore heels tonight and then negotiations fell through! What the FUCK, Sy?” She was burning these shoes when she got home.
“It’s not my fault!” Sy replied moving himself toward the window and hanging out of it, firing back at the car. “He changed the price!”
“I’m so glad that I don’t know what you do,” Haylee snarled as she made a hard left turn down an alley. Her little car was able to make it alright, but the giant SUV the other people were in couldn’t follow. After driving at breakneck speeds for a few more minutes, she looked behind her and realized that no one was behind her anymore.
She parked the car in another alley, pulling Sy back inside of the car so that she could look him over. Luckily bullets really didn’t do anything to vampires. He’d only been hit once.
“Good driving,” he said as she yanked off his coat so that she could tie up his shoulder to stop the bleeding.
“Pay me back by getting the blood cleaned out of my car then. For something dead, you sure do bleed every fucking where,” she said as she tied up his shoulder with a piece of cloth torn from his shirt. “You should have just walked away. If they pulled a shot gun and shot you in the head we may not be having this conversation.”
“I’m a brave guy, what can I say?” he asked with a smirk, shrugging his good shoulder.
She punched him in his wound, smirking as he winced. “That’s not brave. That’s just stupid. Don’t be stupid next time.”
She wished at times like this that she could still drink.
Mere - Charloft Tuesday
Two to Tango is a phrase that originated in a 1952 song by the same name. This idiom can mean that it takes two to quarrel, bargain, or cooperate to get something done.
Write about a time you needed two to tango.
Mere was very familiar with the idea of ‘needing two to tango.’ She had never literally tangoed before, but she had done the horizontal tango plenty of times. Not that you *really* needed another person for that, as people sold toys and all…
BUT ANYWAY!!
Mere took the idea of the statement as more of not allowing to let people squirm away from their responsibilities when they had helped with her decision. That’s why, as much as she regretted breaking up with Bray to go with Deanna (it hadn’t worked out with Dee), she couldn’t pretend that she had been tricked or anything of the like. She had been an active participant in the idea of what was going to happen. It sucked that her relationship didn’t work out, but not all chances that you take work out well.
Luckily, Mere, Bray, AND Deanna had all found the relationships that they were probably supposed to be in now. They were all happy. Maybe things had worked out after all…
Mere - Charloft Thursday
Tonight, give us 100 (or more) words about bravery.
“Come on…it’ll be fun,” Mere whispered to Deanna.
“But what if we get caught?” Deanna whispered back to her as they hid behind the bushes in front of their English teacher’s house.
“We won’t get CAUGHT. You just run up to the door, ring the bell, and run away back to the bush so we can watch!” Mere told her with a giggle.
“Why can’t you do it?” Deanna asked, even as she giggled.
“Because I did the last three!” Mere said with a laugh. “You take your clothes off and dance wonderfully for people all the time? What’s got you all chicken now?”
Deanna gave her a mock glare. “Just because I strip does not give me the ability to dingdong ditch someone!” she whispered loudly back.
“Then tonight’s the night to be brave in a non-strippery way!” Mere was holding back a fit of giggles. “Now go!” she said as she shoved Deanna out of the bush.
Haylee - Charloft Friday
Please list 5 things you are determined to do this week. For more challenge/fun, please also list 5 things you intend to do this year and 5 things you intend to do today.
Five Things to Do This Week:
1. Write 10,000 words on next novel.
2. Do another ‘favor’ to Sy. (I do those a lot.)
3. Have meeting with agent.
4. Have meeting with financial advisor.
5. Try to do more research into getting Sy back into his own goddamn body.
Five Things to Do This Year:
1. Get Sy out of my head and back in his own body. (This is a goal for every year.)
2. Get a draft of my latest novel finished.
3. Get out a little bit more. Supposedly this is a healthy thing.
4. Learn Russian. (I’d like to understand some of the other mutterings in my head from Sy.)
5. Make a ghouled army of cats? I don’t know! I don’t plan my shit out this far in advance!
Five Things to Do Today:
1. Go to Elysium. (Only one planned. It kinda takes the whole night.)
Haylee - Charloft Saturday
Coleridge was a drug addict. Poe was an alcoholic. Marlowe was killed by a man whom he was treacherously trying to stab. Pope took money to keep a woman's name out of a satire then wrote a piece so that she could still be recognized anyhow. Chatterton killed himself. Byron was accused of incest. Do you still want to a writer - and if so, why?
--Bennett Cerf
I am a writer, so…can’t change that!
You can’t be creative and have a normal, boring life, though. Creativity is fueled by pain and, well, insanity. There really isn’t a whole lot of people out there that are able to just completely come up with stuff off the top of their head. Everyone’s inspired by something. I write a lot of dark subjects myself, but even before the whole ‘vampire’ thing, but life wasn’t exactly peaches and cream. I’m a loner by nature simply because my asshole parents liked to yell and me and beat the hell out of me on occasion. Most of my characters come from abused homes. I write what I know, after all. Sure, I take creative license and such, as I’ve never been a detective before, and most of my novels are murder mysteries, but my characters are typically people that I can relate to.
Mere - Charloft Saturday
Coleridge was a drug addict. Poe was an alcoholic. Marlowe was killed by a man whom he was treacherously trying to stab. Pope took money to keep a woman's name out of a satire then wrote a piece so that she could still be recognized anyhow. Chatterton killed himself. Byron was accused of incest. Do you still want to a writer - and if so, why?
--Bennett Cerf
Well, I’m not a writer, but I *am* a musician. I’m in a field where, if I’m great, I have a good chance of dying at the age of twenty-seven and joining the club with greats such as Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin (among others). That or I’ll turn into Elvis and become a fat, bloated parody of myself playing shows in Vegas and Hawaii. You know, if I’m LUCKY.
And I’m still TOTALLY all over the career. The bad luck of others doesn’t scare me off of a career that I’m so in love with and feel in the depths of my soul.
Being b/w a rock and a hard place SUCKS.
Anyways, on with the show!
16084 / 200000 words. 8% done!
I'm being a little. I HATE being behind, but I always crap out at the end of the week. I wish I knew of a way to fix that.
Haylee - Charloft Winter Bingo “Faith”
When Haylee had woken up, Sy hadn’t been there, but there had been a note, so she hadn’t been worried. Honestly, the letter had been utterly incomprehensible, but she would have been more worried about Sy if he had left a normal letter with a phone number on how to reach him. For some reason, him being stone cold sane in a moment scared her more than anything. He only seemed to fully come back to reality when something bad was going on, or he was remembering something bad that he didn’t like to talk about.
Which was why, around two in the morning, when she heard him walk in and simply call out her name, she had been more than a little freaked out. She had been writing at her computer (as always), but, as soon as she heard him in the other room, she was up and in the living room at supernatural speeds.
She found him flopped down on the sofa. Thankfully she hadn’t bothered to buy an expensive one, because he had just gotten in and he had already gotten blood all over it. He was holding his hand to his gut, and she could easily tell that was where the blood was coming from.
“Jesus CHRIST who did you piss off?” she asked, already tugging her shirt over her hand and pulling his hand away so that she could push the shirt against it to presumably help him keep his insides…inside. It wasn’t like she kept spare towels in the living room every time some nearly bleed to death in there.
“Deal went bad,” he mumbled, not seemingly in the mood to volunteer any other information.
“Well that much I can see,” she pointed out to him. “Let me go grab some towels or something.” She knew that the wound couldn’t get infected, but she did know that she needed to sew it up or something. She hoped that she had a sewing kit or a first aid kit or SOMETHING around this place so that she could help.
Twenty minutes later she was still only in her bra and a pair of shorts and was TRYING to sew the wound close so that maybe they can do SOMETHING.
“Ow that hurts!” he snapped at her, trying seemingly to pull away but not quite having the strength to do so.
“If you’d hold still it wouldn’t hurt as much!” she yelled right back. She’d never done this before. She had no idea if this would really work in the long run or not. She knew that vampires could heal the hell out of stuff but still wasn’t quite clear on the how. She chewed on her bottom lip as she finished up. “There. I have no idea if that’s going to hold as soon as you move, though. As least now your guts aren’t going to spill out.” As long as he laid there, anyway.
“I need to feed, Haylee,” Sy rumbled, even as he continued to lounge on the couch. “Help me up so that we can go get me something to eat.”
Something clicked then in Haylee head. “We can’t take you out the way you are. Even if you DON’T bust the stitches that I just spent all this time doing, you’ll do good not to accidentally hurt someone or something like that. You need something in your before we can even go out.”
“You don’t keep anything here.” He was right. She didn’t. She just didn’t like the idea of keeping blood packets in her home. Maybe she would after this, though. She was about to put A LOT of faith in him and she wasn’t sure that she’d be able to do this again.
If she survived it.
“I wasn’t talking about something that you keep in the fridge.” She pulled her hair off her neck and leaned forward. FUCK she hoped that she wasn’t making a mistake here.
“Are you sure?” he asked ever as he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her closer. “I mean…I don’t know…”
“You better fucking know! I’m putting a lot of trust in you, you ass!” She bit down on her bottom lip, wondering if she was doing the right thing here. If her heart still beat, it would be thundering in her chest right now. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear that she could still hear it.
He was always faster than her, even now that she was a vampire. Before she even had a real handle on the situation, he had yanked her over and sunk his fangs into her neck. Apparently one thing that didn’t change from human to vampire was how being bitten felt.
Her head dipped back and she whimpered, clutching his shoulder as he fed from her. As she started to get worried, he pulled back, still holding her even as his fangs retracted from her neck. Her head rolled around and rested it on his shoulder. One hand weakly reached up and clamped over her neck. She felt like she was already starving. They BOTH needed to go out now.
“You OK?” he asked. She shut her eyes and nodded as he stroked her hair for a moment. “We need to go, though. I still need more, and now you need some, too.”
“Yeah, sure,” Haylee said, finally pushing herself up off the sofa. GOD she was starving right now. She thought that her stomach was going to eat her insides or something. Sure, she got that her organs didn’t really WORK anymore, but it was how she still thought.
“And thanks,” he said to her with a slight smile.
“Yeah well, if you’re gone, I’m fucked,” she pointed out to him. “Let me just go put a shirt on and grab you something and we can go.”
“You’d get to feed a lot quicker if you left your shirt off.”
“GOD!! You’re a pervert even for a vampire.” Of course, she heard that some vampires were REAL freaks.
Mere - Charloft Winter Bingo “Goodwill”
“Why are we shopping at a Goodwill? Can’t you afford, like, high fashion or something?”
That was the voice of Deanna ringing in her ears. “Just because I can afford it doesn’t mean that I want to spend that damn much,” Mere said back, arms buried in the wrack that she was looking through at the moment. “Besides, I’ve been dressing myself hot out of Goodwill for years, so why give it up now just because I can afford more?”
“God you’re such a cheap bitch,” Deanna said with a giggle. Even as she was complaining, though, she was also looking through stuff and grabbing a few choice items for herself. Luckily, even though they both liked to dress skimpy, their styles were completely different. Deanna’s was more cute or seductive when she was going that route, but Mere’s was a lot more rocker chick.
“Says the bitch who’s buying that so sexy mini skirt,” Mere pointed out, pulling out a pair of leather pants that was a size too big, but she was sure that she could get them tailored to fit her. She was going to get them cut extra low, too. Then they would be awesome.
“Told you this place rocked,” Mere said with a satisfied smirk.
Haylee - Charloft Munday
1. What gender of character do you play or write most often? I’m not picky about characters, but they tend to be more female than male by default.
2. What age group do your characters tend to fall into? 20-30s. I have characters that are older and younger, though.
3. Do you tend to play or write characters that are outside your own demographics (different gender, ethnicity, or sexuality) or ones that are the same as your own? I tend to go with the idea that I had for a character. I’m not really picky about that, either.
4. Do you tend to write characters who are of a certain religious, political, or social class? Those tend to be all over the board.
5. Do your characters tend to have tragic or idealistic backgrounds? Both.
6. Why do you tend to choose to write for these types of characters? I’m not picky about writing for any certain ‘type’ of character. I kind of go with what inspires me. I will more often than not write characters that I relate to in some way or another, though.
7. Have you ever written / would you ever write a character outside your comfort zone? Why or why not? I have. I have two gay male characters now, which is something that for years I never wrote for. Not out of dislike for them or anything, but more as one never really popped into my head. One I enjoy writing now is a teenager bisexual male who is working toward dating another boy. Different than what I usually play, but I do relate to him in other ways.
Haylee - Charloft Tuesday
Two to Tango is a phrase that originated in a 1952 song by the same name. This idiom can mean that it takes two to quarrel, bargain, or cooperate to get something done.
Write about a time you needed two to tango.
I’m pretty sure I count under the idea of ALWAYS needing two to tango. I share my head with another person. He knows my every thought. I’m not sure if I COULD hide anything from him, as far as my thoughts and actions concerned.
Kind of freaky, when you think about it that way.
You say that like you’re worried I’d do something bad to you.
I know you wouldn’t. You’re part of what keeps me safe, remember? If you weren’t around in some capacity, I’d be a lot crazier. I couldn’t cope with being alone after finally befriending someone.
Well don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.
Be nice to not have to share my head, though.
We take what we can get.
Yeah yeah…
Haylee - Charloft Thursday
Tonight, give us 100 (or more) words about bravery.
Haylee shuffled on her feet as she waited for Sy to get back. He had made her basically dress like a five dollar hooker tonight while he made some shady sort of *deal* with a person. They had went off to talk while she stood by her car and waited. Goddamn her feet hurt in these shoes. He had bought these high heeled monstrosities and convinced her to wear a mini skirt and tiny tank as well, making sure that she worked as some sort of distraction again. All the people that he dealt with were freaks.
Suddenly she heard Sy’s voice raised and gunshots. Her head looked up just as Sy came running, holding a hand to his shoulder. “Start the car!” he yelled as he ran.
She jumped into the driver’s seat of the car and started it, peeling out of the parking lot just Sy jumped into the car, hitting the highway. Another car started to follow her, someone hanging out the window with a gun.
“What happened?” she called out to him, keeping her eyes on the road as she pushed her foot down harder on the gas pedal.
“Negotiations fell through,” Sy grumbled, grimacing slightly as he tried to get ahold of his own gun in the shoulder hoster that he had it in.
Haylee heard the pop of the gun in the next car, the feeling of tiny needles prickling her neck as the back windshield shattered. “DAMN!! I wore heels tonight and then negotiations fell through! What the FUCK, Sy?” She was burning these shoes when she got home.
“It’s not my fault!” Sy replied moving himself toward the window and hanging out of it, firing back at the car. “He changed the price!”
“I’m so glad that I don’t know what you do,” Haylee snarled as she made a hard left turn down an alley. Her little car was able to make it alright, but the giant SUV the other people were in couldn’t follow. After driving at breakneck speeds for a few more minutes, she looked behind her and realized that no one was behind her anymore.
She parked the car in another alley, pulling Sy back inside of the car so that she could look him over. Luckily bullets really didn’t do anything to vampires. He’d only been hit once.
“Good driving,” he said as she yanked off his coat so that she could tie up his shoulder to stop the bleeding.
“Pay me back by getting the blood cleaned out of my car then. For something dead, you sure do bleed every fucking where,” she said as she tied up his shoulder with a piece of cloth torn from his shirt. “You should have just walked away. If they pulled a shot gun and shot you in the head we may not be having this conversation.”
“I’m a brave guy, what can I say?” he asked with a smirk, shrugging his good shoulder.
She punched him in his wound, smirking as he winced. “That’s not brave. That’s just stupid. Don’t be stupid next time.”
She wished at times like this that she could still drink.
Mere - Charloft Tuesday
Two to Tango is a phrase that originated in a 1952 song by the same name. This idiom can mean that it takes two to quarrel, bargain, or cooperate to get something done.
Write about a time you needed two to tango.
Mere was very familiar with the idea of ‘needing two to tango.’ She had never literally tangoed before, but she had done the horizontal tango plenty of times. Not that you *really* needed another person for that, as people sold toys and all…
BUT ANYWAY!!
Mere took the idea of the statement as more of not allowing to let people squirm away from their responsibilities when they had helped with her decision. That’s why, as much as she regretted breaking up with Bray to go with Deanna (it hadn’t worked out with Dee), she couldn’t pretend that she had been tricked or anything of the like. She had been an active participant in the idea of what was going to happen. It sucked that her relationship didn’t work out, but not all chances that you take work out well.
Luckily, Mere, Bray, AND Deanna had all found the relationships that they were probably supposed to be in now. They were all happy. Maybe things had worked out after all…
Mere - Charloft Thursday
Tonight, give us 100 (or more) words about bravery.
“Come on…it’ll be fun,” Mere whispered to Deanna.
“But what if we get caught?” Deanna whispered back to her as they hid behind the bushes in front of their English teacher’s house.
“We won’t get CAUGHT. You just run up to the door, ring the bell, and run away back to the bush so we can watch!” Mere told her with a giggle.
“Why can’t you do it?” Deanna asked, even as she giggled.
“Because I did the last three!” Mere said with a laugh. “You take your clothes off and dance wonderfully for people all the time? What’s got you all chicken now?”
Deanna gave her a mock glare. “Just because I strip does not give me the ability to dingdong ditch someone!” she whispered loudly back.
“Then tonight’s the night to be brave in a non-strippery way!” Mere was holding back a fit of giggles. “Now go!” she said as she shoved Deanna out of the bush.
Haylee - Charloft Friday
Please list 5 things you are determined to do this week. For more challenge/fun, please also list 5 things you intend to do this year and 5 things you intend to do today.
Five Things to Do This Week:
1. Write 10,000 words on next novel.
2. Do another ‘favor’ to Sy. (I do those a lot.)
3. Have meeting with agent.
4. Have meeting with financial advisor.
5. Try to do more research into getting Sy back into his own goddamn body.
Five Things to Do This Year:
1. Get Sy out of my head and back in his own body. (This is a goal for every year.)
2. Get a draft of my latest novel finished.
3. Get out a little bit more. Supposedly this is a healthy thing.
4. Learn Russian. (I’d like to understand some of the other mutterings in my head from Sy.)
5. Make a ghouled army of cats? I don’t know! I don’t plan my shit out this far in advance!
Five Things to Do Today:
1. Go to Elysium. (Only one planned. It kinda takes the whole night.)
Haylee - Charloft Saturday
Coleridge was a drug addict. Poe was an alcoholic. Marlowe was killed by a man whom he was treacherously trying to stab. Pope took money to keep a woman's name out of a satire then wrote a piece so that she could still be recognized anyhow. Chatterton killed himself. Byron was accused of incest. Do you still want to a writer - and if so, why?
--Bennett Cerf
I am a writer, so…can’t change that!
You can’t be creative and have a normal, boring life, though. Creativity is fueled by pain and, well, insanity. There really isn’t a whole lot of people out there that are able to just completely come up with stuff off the top of their head. Everyone’s inspired by something. I write a lot of dark subjects myself, but even before the whole ‘vampire’ thing, but life wasn’t exactly peaches and cream. I’m a loner by nature simply because my asshole parents liked to yell and me and beat the hell out of me on occasion. Most of my characters come from abused homes. I write what I know, after all. Sure, I take creative license and such, as I’ve never been a detective before, and most of my novels are murder mysteries, but my characters are typically people that I can relate to.
Mere - Charloft Saturday
Coleridge was a drug addict. Poe was an alcoholic. Marlowe was killed by a man whom he was treacherously trying to stab. Pope took money to keep a woman's name out of a satire then wrote a piece so that she could still be recognized anyhow. Chatterton killed himself. Byron was accused of incest. Do you still want to a writer - and if so, why?
--Bennett Cerf
Well, I’m not a writer, but I *am* a musician. I’m in a field where, if I’m great, I have a good chance of dying at the age of twenty-seven and joining the club with greats such as Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin (among others). That or I’ll turn into Elvis and become a fat, bloated parody of myself playing shows in Vegas and Hawaii. You know, if I’m LUCKY.
And I’m still TOTALLY all over the career. The bad luck of others doesn’t scare me off of a career that I’m so in love with and feel in the depths of my soul.