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pagans( It's only politics, and what's that got to do with us? )
all I wanna do is get high by the beach
Aug. 3rd, 2017 01:22 pmIf there's one nice thing about being unemployed, Sally's decided, it's having more free time. She'll have to find a new job soon, and it's not as if she doesn't want one, but in the meanwhile, she's decided to enjoy it.
Of course, she used to work in the evenings and it's the middle of the day now, but that means there's no pressure. There's no rush to do things because her night is spoken for. There's just freedom.
One of the very few downsides of living at Magnus's — and she knows he will eventually decide she's stayed long enough — is that it's on the other side of town from the beach. When she lived at Ocean View, she was in easy walking distance of the shore. Now she has to take a cab, money she shouldn't be spending. That doesn't stop her, of course.
It's a bright, hot day in Darrow, though the wind off the ocean makes the beach cooler by far. It's the place to be on a day like this, as far as she's concerned. They don't have beaches like this in England. They're all dreary and grey there, like the whole bloody country. In any case, the only thing missing is good company, and she hesitates a while over her cell phone, trying to decide who to ring. Eventually, she takes a selfie of herself in her bikini and blowing a kiss, and texts it to Lincoln. at the beach! come and join me! ♥
Of course, she used to work in the evenings and it's the middle of the day now, but that means there's no pressure. There's no rush to do things because her night is spoken for. There's just freedom.
One of the very few downsides of living at Magnus's — and she knows he will eventually decide she's stayed long enough — is that it's on the other side of town from the beach. When she lived at Ocean View, she was in easy walking distance of the shore. Now she has to take a cab, money she shouldn't be spending. That doesn't stop her, of course.
It's a bright, hot day in Darrow, though the wind off the ocean makes the beach cooler by far. It's the place to be on a day like this, as far as she's concerned. They don't have beaches like this in England. They're all dreary and grey there, like the whole bloody country. In any case, the only thing missing is good company, and she hesitates a while over her cell phone, trying to decide who to ring. Eventually, she takes a selfie of herself in her bikini and blowing a kiss, and texts it to Lincoln. at the beach! come and join me! ♥
Ha ha, okay, well. In many respects, I think I'm finally doing better for actual realsies this time. In other respects, the election. I'm trying. I really am. I'm still catching up on ancient tags, they're coming, I promise! But I'm also not going to try to make reqs this month because we're halfway through the month and I'm just at a loss. Gonna add little blurbs about each of my dummies in hopes people will see something they're interested in threading off of because a year of on-and-off hypomania means they have no friends!! |
( Read more... )
I'm dying to see how this one ends
Oct. 4th, 2016 02:24 pmSally loves the Bramford. It has charm. It has personality. It has lots of brick and lots of men, and she's enjoyed some pleasant nights within its walls, both with friends and lovers.
Among these is Philip Lombard. Now, Sally isn't there just to see him today. She happens to be in the building visiting Jack and hoping, perhaps, for a chance to see Lip on her way out. But since she's here, she figures she might as well go up a couple of flights and see if Philip's in.
Trips to the Bramford involve lots of very short elevator rides.
She steps out of the elevator onto the ninth floor, brushing her bangs back with her fingers. About to look at herself with her phone's camera, just to be sure she looks good, she stops instead, peering down the hall. There's a woman leaving Philip's apartment, a mere matter of feet ahead of her. It would be, she thinks, awkward if one were to comment on this state of affairs, but it seems equally as gauche for one to ignore the presence of another woman.
Not that she's jealous or anything. Not very, at least. She knows he has other lovers, after all, as does she. But there's knowing and seeing.
She doesn't want to cause a scene or anything. The other woman is rather pretty. She can't fault Philip for his taste, she supposes. "Oh," she says, "I really should have called ahead. There isn't anyone else left in there, is there?" She doesn't want to intrude. For that matter, perhaps she should come back another time, when he hasn't just had someone else. He may not yet be up for another round, after all.
Among these is Philip Lombard. Now, Sally isn't there just to see him today. She happens to be in the building visiting Jack and hoping, perhaps, for a chance to see Lip on her way out. But since she's here, she figures she might as well go up a couple of flights and see if Philip's in.
Trips to the Bramford involve lots of very short elevator rides.
She steps out of the elevator onto the ninth floor, brushing her bangs back with her fingers. About to look at herself with her phone's camera, just to be sure she looks good, she stops instead, peering down the hall. There's a woman leaving Philip's apartment, a mere matter of feet ahead of her. It would be, she thinks, awkward if one were to comment on this state of affairs, but it seems equally as gauche for one to ignore the presence of another woman.
Not that she's jealous or anything. Not very, at least. She knows he has other lovers, after all, as does she. But there's knowing and seeing.
She doesn't want to cause a scene or anything. The other woman is rather pretty. She can't fault Philip for his taste, she supposes. "Oh," she says, "I really should have called ahead. There isn't anyone else left in there, is there?" She doesn't want to intrude. For that matter, perhaps she should come back another time, when he hasn't just had someone else. He may not yet be up for another round, after all.
Sally's stay with Jack was short-lived, and she's absolutely delighted with her new digs, naturally. Who wouldn't love to live in a mansion, even if it's not of one's own? Nevertheless, she looks back on their brief time together with a mixture of fondness and relief. Had she stayed for long, she thinks, he might have tired of her. She'd like very much for him not to tire of her, though men so often do.
Maybe it's just the nature of who she is. To be light and airy, to play at being carefree, it's the kind of thing that draws men in. They've just never much cared for the cares beneath the playacting. It's not a lie, really, being this way. It's just that they don't like knowing the whole truth. And Jack is lovely and kind and handsome and charming, but she doesn't know yet if he's one of them, if he only needs be exposed to her a little longer to discover the parts of Sally Bowles that become less endearing and more frustrating with time. If that might be enough to put an end to... whatever this is, this little friendship they share.
Which is strange in itself, truth be told. Men hardly want to be her friend, unless they're homosexual or they've already slept with her, and she's fairly certain Jack doesn't qualify as either, although she's been wrong about that in the past. And really, the homosexual part is much harder to gauge these days, truth be told. Still, she thinks her instincts are correct on this one. Surely she hasn't mistaken the interest in his eyes?
She drops by his flat uninvited on a quiet evening, bearing a cheap bottle of champagne, wearing a slip of a dress in a flattering deep burgundy, a sheer black kimono flowing loose around her. Perhaps she'll put an end to the wondering and daydreaming. Or perhaps they'll simply have a pleasant evening. Or perhaps he'll have company already, some other pretty girl, some distraction from herself.
She frowns a little and shakes off the notion. How absurd. He well might, but that's never stopped her in the past. She'd only come by some other time, and if he's busy or taken, well, she has other places she might go, other men to take up her attention in turn. It doesn't matter to her. Knocking at the door, she pushes the frown away, replacing it with a small, coy smile. What's the point in fussing over unknown futures? She's here and there's a cute boy on the other side of that door. What else could possibly matter?
Maybe it's just the nature of who she is. To be light and airy, to play at being carefree, it's the kind of thing that draws men in. They've just never much cared for the cares beneath the playacting. It's not a lie, really, being this way. It's just that they don't like knowing the whole truth. And Jack is lovely and kind and handsome and charming, but she doesn't know yet if he's one of them, if he only needs be exposed to her a little longer to discover the parts of Sally Bowles that become less endearing and more frustrating with time. If that might be enough to put an end to... whatever this is, this little friendship they share.
Which is strange in itself, truth be told. Men hardly want to be her friend, unless they're homosexual or they've already slept with her, and she's fairly certain Jack doesn't qualify as either, although she's been wrong about that in the past. And really, the homosexual part is much harder to gauge these days, truth be told. Still, she thinks her instincts are correct on this one. Surely she hasn't mistaken the interest in his eyes?
She drops by his flat uninvited on a quiet evening, bearing a cheap bottle of champagne, wearing a slip of a dress in a flattering deep burgundy, a sheer black kimono flowing loose around her. Perhaps she'll put an end to the wondering and daydreaming. Or perhaps they'll simply have a pleasant evening. Or perhaps he'll have company already, some other pretty girl, some distraction from herself.
She frowns a little and shakes off the notion. How absurd. He well might, but that's never stopped her in the past. She'd only come by some other time, and if he's busy or taken, well, she has other places she might go, other men to take up her attention in turn. It doesn't matter to her. Knocking at the door, she pushes the frown away, replacing it with a small, coy smile. What's the point in fussing over unknown futures? She's here and there's a cute boy on the other side of that door. What else could possibly matter?
that girl is a problem
May. 2nd, 2016 09:08 pmIf she has to listen to this awful bitch go on and on for one more minute, Sally's going to commit bloody murder. She's fairly certain it would be simple. The murder bit, at least. These heels are terribly tall and thin; they could easily stab someone, she's sure of it. It's the whole mess after that makes it truly unappealing, and she doesn't appreciate being driven even to think of it.
"Are you even listening to me?" Willa's eyes narrow, breath catching in outrage, and Sally has to force herself to pay attention.
"Yes, I heard," she sighs, "untalented cow, encroaching on your territory, I quite caught the gist of it. But, darling, if you don't mind my saying it, if you had any talent of your own, you wouldn't be here, now would you? You've been here years and you're still going to these stupid cattle calls like a newcomer. That's sad, Willa, I'm sorry, it just is. You really might want to call it a day while you're... well, not too awfully far behind."
The funny thing is, Willa seems almost entranced by Sally's unexpectedly reasonable tone. She'd thought, Sally supposes, that there would be yelling and screaming, and it's fair enough. She considered that route. But she's spent an awful lot of her day waiting to get into a very short audition for a very small role and she really isn't in the mood to get into a screaming match when she could head off for drinks instead.
And that's when Willa snaps out of it. It seems she's not quite ready to let the screaming match thing go. "You little bitch!" she shrieks, making a grab for Sally's hair, and Sally's so startled she starts laughing, ducking her grasp and making a run for it. These heels are terrible for running in, but she doubts she has to get far. Willa doesn't seem like the running sort.
[ Find Sally running down the street laughing. Feel free to collide or to keep her from tripping over her own stilettos or whatever works best for you. Open. ]
"Are you even listening to me?" Willa's eyes narrow, breath catching in outrage, and Sally has to force herself to pay attention.
"Yes, I heard," she sighs, "untalented cow, encroaching on your territory, I quite caught the gist of it. But, darling, if you don't mind my saying it, if you had any talent of your own, you wouldn't be here, now would you? You've been here years and you're still going to these stupid cattle calls like a newcomer. That's sad, Willa, I'm sorry, it just is. You really might want to call it a day while you're... well, not too awfully far behind."
The funny thing is, Willa seems almost entranced by Sally's unexpectedly reasonable tone. She'd thought, Sally supposes, that there would be yelling and screaming, and it's fair enough. She considered that route. But she's spent an awful lot of her day waiting to get into a very short audition for a very small role and she really isn't in the mood to get into a screaming match when she could head off for drinks instead.
And that's when Willa snaps out of it. It seems she's not quite ready to let the screaming match thing go. "You little bitch!" she shrieks, making a grab for Sally's hair, and Sally's so startled she starts laughing, ducking her grasp and making a run for it. These heels are terrible for running in, but she doubts she has to get far. Willa doesn't seem like the running sort.
[ Find Sally running down the street laughing. Feel free to collide or to keep her from tripping over her own stilettos or whatever works best for you. Open. ]
state of the pups: April/May 2016
May. 1st, 2016 12:42 am   stefanie So I actually feel like I'm sort of catching up and getting close to on top of things again, but April turned out to be way more hectic than anticipated, though I should have anticipated it. And this month, I'll be gone for three weeks. • My medication dosage is still not quite where it needs to be and I can feel that, but it's close enough for me to be relatively functional. I do still get distracted pretty easily, though, so I'm sorry if I owe you tags and you see my fluttering around instead. • I'll be gone from the 3rd through the 23rd, and then I'm sure I'll have wicked jet lag for the rest of the week upon my return. • But I want to be able to play my dumb babies, SO this is where I want to set things up for that to happen. If you want to request a thread, hit me up here. I'm hoping to write private mini-EPs for a bunch of them which I'll link here as well. All of these will be slow-timed and probably linked in June. Feel free to ask for pups that don't have EPs linked here! I may not be able to get starts, but I'm taking all manner of requests. :D |
( Just a quick catch-up. )
[2/14/16] you look like my next mistake
Feb. 8th, 2016 02:28 amSally actually quite likes Valentine's Day.
Oh, it's a bit silly, yes, with all the hearts and pink everywhere. Well, she looks good in pink and in red, too, and she happens to like glitter getting all over the place. Her luck in love has always been rotten, and she's very nearly given up on the whole foolish business, but that doesn't mean she can't enjoy the romance of it all. She likes to tell herself she's above it all, that it's only nice because sometimes it means presents, but really, she's a romantic. She can't help that. Things went terribly with Cliff just when she'd really started to think they might go right for a change, but it can't be forever. Nothing is. Someday her bad luck has to end. Someday someone has to love her.
Well, anyway, the presents are nice too. She's still insisting that she'll leave the club soon for greener grass, wherever it may be, and she really has been looking, but the Nightingale actually isn't too bad. At least the clientele seem to like her — and why wouldn't they? — and the other girls aren't the worst. A couple of the regulars even gave her flowers and chocolates, and even if she'd much prefer jewelry or fine champagne or pretty clothes, it's still sweet of them to think of her.
And who knows? She's made other friends in this odd place. Maybe some of them will have thought to get something for her. It's not impossible.
Still, as she takes a seat on a park bench late that afternoon, it is a bit depressing. There are so many couples about, looking at each other all adoring and doe-eyed, and, truth be told, it stings that there's no one out there to look at her that way. It doesn't seem fair. She's tried, she really has, and it always comes out all pear-shaped in the end. She really should give up on the whole thing. Hasn't she let herself be hurt enough? Though she stands by what she told Cliff once; one really must endure a few heartbreaks to become a truly great actress.
After all, it's got to pay off somehow.
Blowing out smoke, she drops her cigarette stub and crushes it under the heel of her boot. Just a couple of chocolates, she decides, pulling the box from her purse. Maybe there'll be some nice parties tonight for all this romance bullshit.
She's just popped one in her mouth when she spots someone and waves, almost laughing as she covers her mouth with one hand. "Oh, that's divine," she says, and holds out the box. "You must try one, darling."
[OTA, ST/LT welcome. Open until after Valentine's. You're welcome to find Sally having had a perfectly unaffected chocolate, one that leaves her inclined to lovesickness, or later on, having already found someone to fall in love with and no doubt planning her whirlwind wedding; just let me know in your tag or on Twitter or whatever what you prefer.
Please note, too, that Sally is very, very touchy-feely and has no concept whatsoever of physical space. If she's into your pup at all, she's going to get in their space. Let me know if that's going to be a problem for you and I'll work around it.]
Oh, it's a bit silly, yes, with all the hearts and pink everywhere. Well, she looks good in pink and in red, too, and she happens to like glitter getting all over the place. Her luck in love has always been rotten, and she's very nearly given up on the whole foolish business, but that doesn't mean she can't enjoy the romance of it all. She likes to tell herself she's above it all, that it's only nice because sometimes it means presents, but really, she's a romantic. She can't help that. Things went terribly with Cliff just when she'd really started to think they might go right for a change, but it can't be forever. Nothing is. Someday her bad luck has to end. Someday someone has to love her.
Well, anyway, the presents are nice too. She's still insisting that she'll leave the club soon for greener grass, wherever it may be, and she really has been looking, but the Nightingale actually isn't too bad. At least the clientele seem to like her — and why wouldn't they? — and the other girls aren't the worst. A couple of the regulars even gave her flowers and chocolates, and even if she'd much prefer jewelry or fine champagne or pretty clothes, it's still sweet of them to think of her.
And who knows? She's made other friends in this odd place. Maybe some of them will have thought to get something for her. It's not impossible.
Still, as she takes a seat on a park bench late that afternoon, it is a bit depressing. There are so many couples about, looking at each other all adoring and doe-eyed, and, truth be told, it stings that there's no one out there to look at her that way. It doesn't seem fair. She's tried, she really has, and it always comes out all pear-shaped in the end. She really should give up on the whole thing. Hasn't she let herself be hurt enough? Though she stands by what she told Cliff once; one really must endure a few heartbreaks to become a truly great actress.
After all, it's got to pay off somehow.
Blowing out smoke, she drops her cigarette stub and crushes it under the heel of her boot. Just a couple of chocolates, she decides, pulling the box from her purse. Maybe there'll be some nice parties tonight for all this romance bullshit.
She's just popped one in her mouth when she spots someone and waves, almost laughing as she covers her mouth with one hand. "Oh, that's divine," she says, and holds out the box. "You must try one, darling."
[OTA, ST/LT welcome. Open until after Valentine's. You're welcome to find Sally having had a perfectly unaffected chocolate, one that leaves her inclined to lovesickness, or later on, having already found someone to fall in love with and no doubt planning her whirlwind wedding; just let me know in your tag or on Twitter or whatever what you prefer.
Please note, too, that Sally is very, very touchy-feely and has no concept whatsoever of physical space. If she's into your pup at all, she's going to get in their space. Let me know if that's going to be a problem for you and I'll work around it.]
SOTP: November 2015
Nov. 16th, 2015 01:51 am   stefanie Frankly, I'm the worst, which is why I'm writing this now. I don't even know when the last time was that I did an SOTP, and this isn't even going to be a full one. I've been all over the place for the last... couple months? Give or take. Just scattered, and I'm really sorry about it, because I know I've been incredibly unreliable in every possible way. I don't have a particularly good reason for it. It's just been a matter of not having much free time for a number of reasons, and then, lately, being exhausted when I do find free time, and therefore not much able to tag because I'm just out of it, thanks to work being especially tough lately. (Unfortunately, though you can no longer truly say there's a TV season, things do still get more hectic in the fall in the TV industry, and I've had some shitty employee stuff to deal with and long-distance bosses who Don't Get It, and it's just fucking tiring, and after correcting a variety of fuck-ups of all shapes and sizes, especially grammar-related, I just don't really have much brain capacity left some days.) future Getting my shit together. A couple of projects I have ongoing at home are either done or winding down, and a long bit of employee drama is coming to its close, so I'm hoping I'll have and be better equipped to make more time in the coming days. So what's the plan right now? Well, first I'm just totally giving up. I'm dropping as much as I can, because most of my threads now are things that I was so fucking slow on that it's honestly really embarrassing. I'm keeping things that: are not long enough to give the other person reqs, are plotty, and/or I'm really, really especially enjoying. Then I'm starting relatively fresh. I'm planning to EP Sally and Harley. I'm debating whether to do others or if I should leave them to next month. I'm bumping back the gathering I had planned for Olive. I'm tagging into private posts and open EPs that will still have me. I'm starting new threads. Hopefully I'm doing this with the right balance, enough threads for each character to keep me involved and get me going again, but a low enough number I don't overwhelm myself right away. I can pick up more later. I'm attempting to rebuild the habits that let me find time to tag every day. So if you want any threads or have any questions about what's going on with my dumb babies, hit me up below. Note: As of my posting this, it's 3 AM, I'm quite tired, and I have to deal with the fucking stupid CEO coming into town tomorrow and making us pose for portraits with some kind of prop that's supposed to represent our personalities or interests, and I have nothing planned. Odds are good that I won't get to much more in the way of tags before I sleep, so if you read this and don't have a tag in your inbox that I owe you, it doesn't necessarily mean that I've dropped our thread(s), only that it suddenly felt very important to write this and organize before I wade into the terrible mess I've created. |
( Just a quick catch-up. )
won't look down, won't open my eyes
Sep. 27th, 2015 10:01 pm"It's almost time to leave for the station."
( Sally looks at Cliff, at his cut cheek and the exhaustion hanging over him, and she thinks he's already gone somewhere quite far from her. )
( Sally looks at Cliff, at his cut cheek and the exhaustion hanging over him, and she thinks he's already gone somewhere quite far from her. )
