Seems like complaining about not having any EDM dreams cast a spell or something, because Thomas visited me last night.
We were in an old attic, folding a giant sheet of fabric on the floor while talking about how schools divide children in different pedagogical ways (???), and the pros and cons of each way depending on the grade and kind of schoolwork.
He also told me that he coaches a junior hockey team, which I found adorable even in the dream. And at one point I merged two different expressions into one nonsense-word, and he started teasing me about it in the sweetest, dorkiest way possible.
It all ended with me thanking him for his wisdom and returning to the train I apparently was on before we started talking.
- Fantasy noir: Pour another one, Joe. My dragon left me for some clean-shaven cape-wearing foreign hero with an accent so thick you could hear the fake passport in his voice.
- Existential noir: these are mean streets to have an empty life in, kid. Thinkers nurse a hangover from their disgust of life for fifty years then roll over and die. This is how we run things in our city. Play it again, will you.
- Southern Gothic Noir: look at yourself, boy. They’ve got names for people who carry the Bible like that. They’ve got names for everything around here. And if you don’t get it the first time the walls will whisper it back to you.
– Noir Mythology: She was a priestess at some local temple. One of those temple only people who pray for a pint of bourbon and a life insurance go to. And she had a face that meant trouble, make no mistake. But not after Zeus turned her into a cow. Not after Zeus turned her into a cow.
- Noir meta-Shakespeare: Characters like us, Horatio. We weren’t born to grow old and mean. We faff around, we mix a stiff one, and then we die. But when we die, we die hard and we make sure we bring the whole damn city down with us.
- Noir Milton: Heaven looked high class from fifty feet away but from five feet away it looked like the kind of place meant to be seen from fifty feet away. Stay there long enough you get a double pint of Hell’s Bells. Real hell is my business now. Real hell is how I make my nickel.
- Noir William Blake: She was the sort of tiger a bishop would paint crosses on his front door against. You can’t tell anything from tigers like that. She could have had the sheriff in the back room. She could have been making millions. But you could tell she burned bright in all the right places. Oh, she burned bright all right.
- Noir Dylan Thomas: Alright, old man. Amateur hour is over. You go down kicking and screaming or you don’t go down at all, you get my meaning?
- Noir Keats: Outside, the Autumn smelled of politics: it asked only for the highest types of men and had nothing to offer them but bleating lambs and the song of crickets. The sort of autumn that shares his smokes and his wife with the maturing sun. “I don’t like Spring,” the kid said. “That’s all right, sonny boy. I ain’t selling it.”
- Noir Edgar Allan Poe: You could tell from the way he sauntered in the bird meant business. He had the kind of beak that could drive a nail through your forehead. Didn’t string more than two words together but he knew all the right ones all the same. He knew which ones stung. “I don’t want no birds in my room,” I said, loud enough for hell to hear. But birds like that don’t just scram. Birds like that stick to you like a bad divorce from a Hollywood diva.
my mother opens the sunroof on a roadtrip at midnight and i don’t bother pretending that the stars are small enough for me to count. instead, i talk about how the closest star is 4.24 light years away and how the next closest star is 4.37 light years away and how what we see now happened years ago.
i talk about how small we are. how we’re spinning at an alarming rate but we are so incredibly minuscule compared to our planet that it’s okay. one of my brothers doesn’t care and the other is tipsy, so i’m pretty sure i’m trying to get through to myself more than anyone else.
i just forget that we aren’t important sometimes, i guess. i have the audacity to think i’ll matter in 4.24 or 4.37 light years when i’m too quiet, too human to matter now. i could die or sleep forever or never get out of bed again and all of the stars are still exploding, you know? earth is still spinning and the sun is still burning. i’m not really sure if this makes me want to thrive, or if i want to explode myself now
there are 7 billion, 47 million people on the planet and i have the audacity to think i matter (catherine w // sempiternalwriting)
Another MGIT story. The author is thrown into DA with her favorite OC, Elizabeth Trevelyan. Expecting her and Cullen to fall in love, she eagerly awaits for them to kiss, only to find that Cullen has his eyes on someone else’s lips. Incomplete.
The advisors and Inquisitor head to Antiva, only to get thrown into an evil Court Mage’s cynical plot. At least, that’s what Cullen thinks. Apparently, everyone else is just blind, especially the Inquisitor, whom he hates, and totally doesn’t want to bang. Incomplete.
An AU where the Inquisitor gets killed by a lackey of Samson’s, who happens to magically end up with the mark. Watching a mage fall to red lyrium is something Cullen never thought he would see, and he isn’t sure whether he wants to kill or kiss her. Incomplete.
A Modern AU (sort of) where Cullen gets sent to the real world. Right into Elizabeth’s apartment. They flirt, while also trying not to show everyone that he’s from a place where dragons exist. Incomplete.
Another random idea. Cullen gets thrown into the middle of nowhere, and low and behold, there’s a beautiful mage there that he can’t help but fall for. In a sexual way. But also in a lovey dovey way. Incomplete.
One shot spun into more. Varric tries to push Liz and Cullen together, only to find that they are more stubborn than he thought. Yet they learn, through trial and error, that maybe being stubborn isn’t so fun after all. Incomplete.
Would you look at that! ONE MILLION WORDS. All of it Cullen! (Minus one original work I didn’t bother putting up here). I never have considered myself a writer, and still don’t, but a million is a frick ton of words. That doesn’t even count the stuff I’ve deleted, rewritten, or the 73 WIP’s I currently have.
-Little Alphas camping out in the backyard and both being very afraid but also very unwilling to let the other know they are scared so they find excuses to stay awake until the sun starts rising and the world is less scary again
-Some parents not allowing mixed dynamic sleepovers after a certain age and children low-key resenting them for it
-Teenage Omega and Alpha best friends that stay over at each others houses a lot, and whenever they have sleepovers the Omega always ends up clinging to the Alpha in their sleep, the Alpha secretly loves it and always looks forward to when the Omega will become drowsy and snuggly again
-Omegas having sleepovers with other Omegas and making a large cozy nest of sleeping bags and couch cushions on the living room floor and cuddling close together to talk and share snacks
-Alphas ordering a ridiculous amount of pizza for a sleepover and devouring every single piece of it within twenty minutes
-Beta children being upset when their parents say they have to choose whether to have their Omega friend sleepover or their Alpha friend but not both because it’s ‘inappropriate’ for Alphas and Omegas to sleepover together and the Beta is upset because they just want to be together with all their friends and they don’t understand what their parents are so worried about
-Omegas eating a gross amount of ice cream and other sweets at sleepovers and watching movies that make them cry because Omegas tend to love emotional things like that
-A little Omega having a sleepover with an Alpha friend and trying to build a fort but being really upset when they can’t get it to stay up, the Alpha wanting to make the Omega feel better so they try their hardest to build a great fort for them. It basically ends up turning into a big mess of sheets and cushions precariously stacked and tucked into places but the Omega is amazed by it nonetheless and praises the blushing Alpha profusely for being such a great fort builder
-A little Alpha telling an Omega a scary story at a sleepover and feeling terrible when they realize that they have actually scared the poor little Omega and they rush to make things better like, “Its okay it was all fake! Do you want me to get my mom? Or here, why don’t you sleep in my sleeping bag with me?” and the teary Omega is quick to snuggle into the sleeping bag and allow the Alpha to comfort them
-An Alpha child secretly bringing a stuffed animal to a sleepover and being mortified when their Omega friend finds it, but the Omega doesn’t tease them though, instead they are just like, “Oh he’s so cute! Does he have a name? I have a lot of stuffed animals in my room, wanna go see?” and the Alpha happily agrees as they are dragged down the hallway by the very excited little Omega