dramaturgy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dramaturgy) wrote2006-01-14 11:48 am
dramaturgy) wrote2006-01-14 11:48 am
This could be a GIP, except there's a very important pimp and <user site="livejournal.com" comm="ren
Main Community :: OOC Community :: Notes Community :: Mod Journal
We’re fun, active, friendly, and eager to plot. Plus what’s more fun than playing a bohemian New Yorker in the late 80s? You know you want to click the application link. Don’t deny yourself.
So, yes. The dear modly one says we need boys but I'm pretty sure we'll take anyone who wanders by. Like she says, don't deny yourself.
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That said and done, I have two
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rent_100 prompts done from my time without computer.Title: Doesn’t It Drive You Mad?
Characters: April and Mark, Roger and fangirls mentioned, Maureen runs through the frame. (Roger/April, Mark/Maureen.)
Prompt: 014. Green
Word Count: 836
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Mark and April make some friendly conversation.
Author's Notes: If you think I own Rent, you need more help than I do. My progress chart is here. Also, I realized that I’m definitely not writing these in a very good chronological order, so I thought about adding a rough chronological guideline and updating that as I go, too. Whaddaya think?
April moved quickly out of the bar, taking her purse with her – she wasn’t leaving yet, but Mark was kind of into filming at the second, and he didn’t really seem the type who would think about watching a girl’s purse. She just needed to get out of there for a second, away from the crowd and the legions of screaming fans that The Well Hungarians seemed to pick up with each new gig. Not that they didn’t deserve it.
“April, you all right?” she heard, and turned to find the concerned blue eyes of Mark Cohen looking back at her.
“Yeah, I just needed a little bit of air,” she said with what she hoped was a convincing smile. “Really.”
“Oh, well,” he said, cradling his camera carefully, and then he asked, “Mind if I join you?”
“No,” she smiled at Mark, and he smiled back, if a bit nervously. She didn’t know Roger’s roommates as well as she knew Roger, but she was sure she was as big a mystery to them as they were to her. That was going to change, she promised herself. “So, how long have you known Roger?”
“A couple years, actually,” he said, moving a bit closer to lean on the building next to her. “Benny and I met him at a party while we were still in school. He was visiting his mom, I think. He was half-drunk at the time.”
“I trust he wasn’t getting amorous with you like he gets with me,” she joked.
“Ah, no,” he answered, and then laughed a bit. “No, he was… well, loud.”
“Louder than usual?”
“Pretty much,” he said. “You met him at one of his gigs, right?”
“Yeah, back in March,” she said, blushing a little at the memory. “Not one of my best nights.”
“It was… kind of funny, because when he came back in that night, he couldn’t talk about anything but you,” Mark said, fiddling with his camera again.
April was glad it was dark, because she felt like she was turning very, very red. “Really?” was all she could think to say, although definitely didn’t think that Mark was the type to say something like that and not mean it. Besides, there was no reason for him to lie, he wasn’t going to be getting anything about it if he did.
“Yeah. We kept wondering when we were going to get to meet you, and he was all, ‘no, I don’t want her to meet you assholes yet,’ and it generally degenerated from there,” he said with a smile.
“That’s, ah, sweet, I guess,” she allowed, and laughed a little. It certainly sounded like Roger, if nothing else. “Well, I really like him, too.”
“Good, you might be good for him,” Mark said, and offered no further explanation. He suddenly lifted the camera to his face and the crank began turning, catching April’s image on film.
“Hey, wait, what’re you doing?” she asked, shrinking away a little. She knew Mark filmed anything and everything, but she didn’t think it would extend to her, at least not soon and not right now. She wasn’t even doing anything remotely interesting.
“Sorry, you just looked interesting, with the light and brick wall and everything,” he said a bit sheepishly, but he didn’t stop the camera. She had a wave of self-consciousness, and waited for it to pass. Truthfully, she wasn’t much of an in-front-of-the-cameras person. “You’re not going to smile?” he asked teasingly
She tried giving him a smile, but it probably came out half-hearted. “Enjoying the show?” Mark asked her, still on camera.
“It’s, er, you know,” she said, her powers of speech suddenly gone. “It’s good,” she concluded.
“Roger will be glad to hear it.”
“I think he’s getting plenty of that at the minute,” she answered dryly.
“… Does that bother you?” he asked, furrowing his brow.
“What, the attention?” she asked in return, mirroring the expression.
“Ah… no,” she said, looking at her shoes. “I mean, the band deserves it, they put a lot of work into it.”
“And the legions of screaming fangirls who want to toss their bras at Roger?”
Now she did smile genuinely, if dryly at the camera. “They can toss as many articles of clothing at him as they’d like. I mean, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little jealous – I guess that sounds a little silly, very high school,” she blushed again.
Mark looked like he was going to answer, but they fell silent when Maureen, the object of Mark’s very unrequited affection, passed by with a man neither of them knew on her arm without even looking their way. April saw a look on Mark’s face, longing and just the smallest bit hurt, and then he quickly covered it up with indifference. “No, I think I know what you mean,” he said after a second.
“You need a drink,” she said, taking the filmmaker by the arm and dragging him back into the club.
Title: I’ll Make It Up To You
Characters: April and Roger.
Prompt: 084. He
Word Count: 1,142
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Long live the red plaid pants
Author's Notes: If you think I own Rent, you need more help than I do. My progress chart is here.
April yawned, and looked at her watch. Her shift ended at five and it was only one-thirty… thirty-two. Thereabouts. Her eyes crossed and began to close whenever she focused on something for too long, so she tried to keep her eyes moving around. She’d already taken lunch, colored her nails with a permanent marker, and tried the same thing with her hair. Needless to say, it hadn’t worked very well.
She sighed and gave the crossword in People another look. Her brain wasn’t really up for any sort of thinking at the moment, but it was something to do. 14 across, Duran Duran hit, Hungry Like The ____.
Wolf, easy enough, she thought as she scribbled it in with a pen. Her attention was drawn away when the bell rang, indicating the front door had opened. Roger entered, and shot her a grin. She couldn’t help but smile back, feeling her headache lessen a bit. He was so much faster than aspirin, and better in bed. “Get out, we don’t serve your kind here,” she said.
“Oh yeah, and what kind’s that?” he asked, approaching the counter where she was.
“You smartass, rock and roll kids,” she answered, leaning across the counter the counter to give him a kiss.
He accepted it gladly, holding on a little longer than she thought he might. “Well, maybe I’m not going to take it anymore. I didn’t come here to be insulted.”
“Where do you usually go?” she asked with a smirk.
“Speaking of being a smartass,” he laughed, leaning on the counter. “What are you up to?”
“Crossword. Bored out of my mind,” she said. “Bit of a headache, but I’ll live.”
“Take something for it?”
“Yes, mom, but the damn thing persists,” she rolled her eyes, coming out from behind the counter. “I should be thankful for such a caring, interested boyfriend since I heard the opposite complaints so often, but I promise, I’m fine.”
He followed her around as she straightened things on a rack, and took a pair of pants off a rack of t-shirts where someone had placed it after deciding they didn’t want it. “If you’re sure,” he said, and lowered his voice a bit. “You just took a bad trip last night, is all, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m fine,” she promised, absently rearranging the shirts for size and rounding the corner. “As long as Mark didn’t somehow manage to catch my fall from grace on camera, I seem to remember it being sort of embarrassing.”
“You got very touchy-feely,” Roger conceded.
“I don’t seem to remember you minding, either,” she said with a raised eyebrow.
“Well, until you passed out and we all panicked because we thought you OD’d,” he replied.
“Always the life of the party, that’s me,” she said, rehanging the pants she’d picked up earlier. “It’s not that bad, I promise, I’m fine.”
“Okay,” he said, leaning easily on the rack of clothing. April took a second to marvel at his body – not even necessarily the physique, just the way he carried himself. He was completely comfortable, and his body language showed it. It was amazing.
“You, however, are terrible. Bothering me at work, my manager’s going to throw a fit,” she tsked.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he said.
“Make it up to me by keeping me up all night, you mean,” she said.
“You’ve never complained before.”
“Give me some business,” she challenged.
“I’m not paying you.”
“I mean the store, you moron,” she whacked him on the shoulder to wipe the smug grin off his face – not that he generally had any other sort of grin, he usually managed to look like he knew something April didn’t.
“Say what you mean, April,” he said innocently.
“I’m going to whack you again,” she warned, wielding an empty hanger and then picked up the blouse that had fallen off.
“Oh no! Not the hanger!”
“You’re mocking me,” she said, faking a pout. “Fear me, for I know where you sleep.”
“Oh yeah, I’m scared now,” he scoffed.
She was about to answer “you should be,” and then merely smirked. Roger raised an eyebrow in return, and then she dashed to the rack that held men’s pats. “We just got these the other day. You need these pants,” she said, looking through the rack.
“Dare I ask?”
“You’ll love them, I promise,” she said, laughing. Well, he’d either hate them or love them and pretend to hate them. She pulled them off the rack and revealed her find.
“They’re… plaid,” he finally settled on.
“Yeah, they’re pretty cool,” she grinned happily. They were absolutely gorgeous in her opinion, she sort of wished she were 6’3 so she could wear them. Red and white plaid with a touch of yellow, sticking out and maybe slightly head-turning, but beautiful.
“Yeah, if you want to cause a three car pileup in Times Square,” he remarked dryly.
“Oh come on, I’ve worn worse,” she held them out to him.
“They look small,” he excused, backing up.
“They’re thirty-six/thirty, which means they fit,” she said, thrusting them into his arms and then turned him around and began pushing him to the curtained dressing room in the back of the store.
“You’re not going to leave this alone, are you?” he sighed in defeat.
“Nope. Go ahead,” she urged, giving him a final shove and pulling the curtain (a paisley bedsheet) closed.
“You need help, A,” he sighed, and soon there were changing clothes sounds. Moments later, Roger announced from behind the curtain, “I’m not coming out, this is absolute bullshit.”
“No, let me see,” she begged.
“No,” he said.
“Then I’m coming in,” she giggled, throwing open the curtain and she gave a happy gasp. “Roger.”
“If you want to laugh, you’ll have to leave me to stroke my ego in peace,” he said sullenly, tugging a little on the pants. “They’re a bit tight.”
“I think they’re supposed to be like that. Oh god, you look so…” She gesticulated as she looked for the word.
“Stupid?”
“I want to jump you,” she said, and then gave a small squeal before literally jumping at him. He was a bit surprised but did his best to catch her. It didn’t go half as well they thought, as Roger ended up falling to the floor with April on top of him. She banged her elbow into the wall and he had fallen on his butt, but they were both laughing so hard none of that seemed to matter. “I’m sorry,” she giggled.
“Well, if I’d known that was going to happen, I would haven gotten a pair a lot sooner,” he said, giving her a kiss on the top of her head and then lowering his head to give her a thorough kiss on the mouth.
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Liz: ::whaps::
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Court: KDFJ:SKFJ LIZ I BLAME YOU.
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Liz: You blame me?
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Greens
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“It was… kind of funny, because when he came back in that night, he couldn’t talk about anything but you,” Mark said, fiddling with his camera again.
*melts* That is... achingly sweet, somehow.
I love how he films her. I KNEW IT WOULD HAPPEN.
And oh. Oh. The thing with Maureen. Unexpected, but such a perfect way to end it-- you've made a connection between Mark and April that I would have liked to believe had to have existed somehow, what with their relationships with Roger. And to do it so well, in such a small space, so beautifully... absolutely stunning job there. I marvel at your composition skills. ♥
She couldn’t help but smile back, feeling her headache lessen a bit. He was so much faster than aspirin, and better in bed.
... I love that line. XD
Oh. And how he holds on the kiss just a bit longer? It's simple, small details like that which just make you... gah, such a good writer.
Roger and April are far too cute. Gah.
PLAID. ♥
The dressing room scene eats my soul. Damn, you're good.
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(Ouch, that was harsh, Liz.)
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Rawr.
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