#audio prompt

[tehrogueva]

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Ive been loveing @hheisa Sweettale Sans aka Mint. I had to try to do a quick little audio with him

Hope you like it

(took a few liberties with things but I hope it was ok)

[kpquickndirty]

KP Quick'n'Dirty, Prompts, Week #2

Make something quick'n'dirty (keep it short, keep it rough).

@ message this blog to get reblogged.

Say "remix" next to the @ mention or in tags if you welcome others to create something inspired by your piece!

Prompts - Your Pick

You can use one prompt, multiple prompts, or any other inspiration. These do not have to be used together.

Text/Quote: Someone receives an unexpected gift

Character: Arm

Audio:

Use the music and/or lyrics for creative inspiration!

"Red Hands" - by Walk Off the Earth

(you can find just the song lyrics by clicking here)

[iplier-memes]

Begin audio prompt in 3… 2… 1…

[promptsausandshit]

Picture this; #446

A previously disembodied being’s first experience of taking a mortal form.

[crackling-fires]

Prompt #11: This year’s obligatory coffee shop AU

Bonus: audio inspiration

[thatsmysecretduh]

My audio prompt for @capreversebb 2019, claimed by my pal, my buddy, my @kajmere.

LISTEN ON AO3.

[vagueprompt]

Your character prayed for something, but didn't expect it to be sentient. How do they deal with this thing or person's opinions, preferences, or personality?

[angstymarshmallow]

In Circles - James x MC Fanfic

In Circles - James x MC Freshman Fanfic.

[A little note: After hearing this song, a thousand different things kept going through my head. Mostly just how stunningly beautiful it is. The more I listened to it, the more I fell in love with it. @hollyashton was the one that showed it to me and after talking with her and making a pact to write an anchor prompt. I haven’t written anything James centered in awhile and I feel rusty. Thoughts? Hope it’s at least an enjoyable read]

[Summary: After MC leaves on a flight back to Hartfeld, James battles with inner turmoil. Writing has always meant everything to him - but what happens when he has to choose between the love of his life and his dreams?]

I wonder if she’s thinking about me. Right now. Right at this very moment. All bundled up in the comfort of her seat, with her hair probably tied back. With her eyes probably glued to the window, flying a thousand miles away.

I wonder if she’s thinking about me the way I’m thinking about her. With an overwhelming sense of longing; with an urgency just to be in her presence. With an insatiable need; a craving so strong that no amount of words can ever suffice. 

I wonder if she’s thinking about how many hours we’ve spent just looking at each other. Kissing each other. Touching each other. Bringing each other to the brink before riding out the storm. I wonder if she thinks about me as much as I think about her.

I wonder if she thinks about the distance. Of never being close enough. The fear that one day, it won’t be enough. Maybe we’ll get there, maybe we won’t. Does it ever cross her mind? 

I wonder if she’s knows how much harder it is when we’re apart. How every part of me yearns to erase the feeling of loneliness that etches itself onto my heart. And every moment away from her is just another irrefutable reason to miss Hartfeld.

I wonder if she knows that the distance doesn’t go away until my eyes can see her. Until my hands can touch her. Until she’s lying beside me, nestled in my arms with nothing but our naked eyes to see what we’ve always known as truth between us. Until we’re wrapped up inside each other and love is the only feeling we breathe and utter. I wonder if she knows how much she leaves me breathless. Leaves me reeling. Leaves me wanting more.

I’m staring down at my glass of white wine and I’m trying to desperately to drown her out. It’s my fourth glass and it hasn’t worked. I’m trying to push my flustering nerves away. I’m trying to fight the urge to drop everything and run. I want to see her. That’s what every fiber of my being is telling me. 

Four drinks later and I still can’t get her out of here. 

I want to run to her. To hold her. To bury my face inside her neck. To listen to her heartbeat turn erratic when my hands are on her, coaxing every part of her alive. I want to see every shudder, to hear every intake of breath as she comes undone beneath me. I want to see her with a desperation I can almost taste. 

But I can’t.

Not when my movie is on the line. Not when everything I’ve ever worked for has mounted to this moment. Not when it’s all coming together. I didn’t sacrifice all those hours, those days, those years into a playwright just to have it all disappear. I didn’t sacrifice all those precious years I spent with Professor Vasquez just to toss it aside as if it never meant anything. I didn’t sacrifice all that time just to allow my dreams to remain dreams.

She’s angry now because she thinks I’m choosing it over her. She’s frustrated because she doesn’t understand why I can’t let those dreams die. She doesn’t say it in so many words, but I feel it in every hesitant smile. In every sentence when she communicates. In every word laced with sarcastic humor. She never says it because she’s afraid of being selfish. 

And I’m afraid of pushing her away. I’m afraid of holding that part of me back when I’ve always believed in giving love my all. I’m afraid she’ll never understand what it means. The expectations I have. The expectations Professor Vasquez has always had of me. I can’t let my dreams stay dreams. Not for him. Not for myself.

I can’t let my parents be right. I can’t give them the satisfaction that the world of Hollywood is difficult and terrifying. I can’t give them the satisfaction of beating me because of the limitations I’ve set. I can’t let my fear of never amounting to anything become a reality. 

Writing has always been important to me. More important than most things in my life. 

Its influence stretches decades and transcends past all my uncertain teenage years, my chaotic freshman year - all my experiences at Hartfeld. Words mean everything and writing has been there for me in a way that people never have. 

I refuse to allow my dreams to continue staying dreams when I know I have the power to change it. To shape myself into something better. I have the opportunity to become more. My play has to mean something. Something that will live on even after I die.

Perhaps I’m asking for too much. Perhaps it’s better to let her go. Maybe letting go is what’s best for her. I can almost picture it. My mind has already concocted some bitter reality of her moving on without me. She’ll find someone else, someone that can give her the attention she has always deserved. Someone she’ll never have to wait for. They’ll have two children - so the other child won’t feel alone the way I often have growing up as an only child. 

Perhaps we aren’t made to last.

It’s nearly been an hour since since she left. Yet she’s all I can think about. The liquor isn’t doing its job. It’s actually having quite the opposite effect. I can still feel her presence. It lingers. Its the only thing that does in this empty apartment. Her scent is all over my pillow. Her laugh echoes in the back of my mind. I can almost picture her smile.

I haven’t been able to call Yasmin and I haven’t been able to make all the alterations the studio wants. I hear her words inside my head, and they strike doubt inside my heart. Was I wrong to come here? Can my dreams ever become a reality?

All I can think about is the sinking disappointment in her eyes. The realization that she’s asking me to choose her over my dreams. It’s all I can see even as I try to shove the thoughts away. I knock back the rest of my drink before discarding it carelessly beside me. 

Don’t let your dreams stay dreams.

Closing my eyes, I fall back in bed and wedge them tightly. I echo the words like a mantra until it falters. My brain stumbles across other images of her, of us. 

They steal my breath and I roll over to utter a groan. Hugging my pillow to my chest, I try to block the world out. Yet she refuses to disappear.

I wonder if she’s closed her beautiful eyes and rested her head back in her seat. I wonder if she’s picturing me too. I wonder if she’s holding sobs back, if her chest feels heavy like she’s sinking and no matter how much she treads towards the shore - she’s only sinking further down. I wonder if she even realizes that I feel the same.