itunes set to random
So to lurch myself out of this self-imposed writer's hiatus I've been out, I decided to set my iTunes playlist on random, and write drabbles for 4 songs. (2 of them are "Big Time Rush" and 2 of them are various fandoms.)
Better Get to Movin' - Heffron Drive - Miranda (gen)
"I really don't know why you keep insisting on bringing me out to these clubs, when you know perfectly well that something horrendous will happen. My skirt will fall off, or I'll scare off potential sperm donors, or I'll say something embarrassing about my body," Miranda complained.
Stevie quelled her rambling with a look, a look that, frankly, was a little much for a tiny person like her was supposed to properly grasp. But then, Stevie always had that whole "will persevere against expectations" thing going on, so quelling looks fell under that category, and Miranda usually just shut up and followed orders.
"Well, then, wear a dress this time, try not to get drunk, and stay close with Gary, me, and Clive," Stevie argued. She bent down and then lurched a gigantic handbag onto Miranda's bed. Miranda stared. (Really, it was big enough to fit...well. Nothing that really came straight to Miranda's mind, but, you get it, it was of Mary Poppins variety.) Stevie yanked apart the handles of the bag, reached inside its vast inside, and pulled out a tiny bright pink box.
"And I brought the secret weapon. Dress tape," Stevie pronounced proudly.
"Dress. Tape?" Miranda repeated, slowly drawing out the words. Because who on earth would package Scotch tape in an aesthetically feminine presentation and promise that it would fix the myriad of problems that came with slippery fabric and inevitable breast flashing when a woman donned a party dress? (Apparently, the people that appealed to Stevie. Oh, tiny people, she thought fondly.)
"Yes. Dress tape," Stevie snapped. She huffily put her hands on her hips - which were currently encased in a wispy purple shirt that was pretending to be a grownup dress - and pursed her lips. "Come on, then, Miranda. It's 7:30 and we promised to meet Gary and Clive outside the restaurant at 8:30. Chop, chop!"
Miranda pointed a finger at her best friend. "Never say those words again. We are not in a cooking competition, nor any sort of competition that requires witty comments that exist for the sole purpose for placing anxiety on poor victims-"
"Miranda!" Stevie shrieked.
"All right, all right," Miranda pouted, slinking over to her closet. When Stevie got shrieky and up a few decibels, it was best not to rile her up any further. She sighed as she rifled through the wardrobe. Why couldn't a proper top and slacks work at clubs?
"No slacks!" Stevie called. Miranda jumped. Jesus, could she read minds, now? "We don't want to look like we came straight from work, do we?"
"Maybe I do," Miranda snarked, pushing back her favorite pair of trousers, and woefully batting at the lack of silky dance outfits. She let out a yelp when Stevie shoved her aside. In a matter of moments, she had unearthed a previously unseen dress and brandished it at Miranda.
"Oooh, where did this come from?" she asked delightedly, grabbing the teal colored dress that had flattering short sleeves and an asymmetrical hem. "I've never seen this before. Now go away, Stevie. For I need to change," she said loftily. Stevie just rolled her eyes. Miranda shrugged (it was a shot, wasn't it?) and whipped off her sweats in favor of The Dress that was making her feel like a right princess.
"Now. I'm going to have a quick cup of tea before we leave," Stevie decided. She turned to step out of Miranda's bedroom, but paused, her hand on the doorknob. "Put on makeup, grab a bag, and we'll leave in fifteen minutes, yeah?" Miranda preened in response, fluffing her hair.
We're Dancing - PYT - Big Time Rush (Camille, Jo, Stephanie)
Camille was in the middle of ripping up her new ballet shoes when Stephanie sidled over and nudged her right shoulder with her own. She looked up in time to catch Stephanie wiggle her eyebrows lasciviously at the group of boys who had filed into the dance studio, and she followed her gaze to one boy who Stephanie was staring at in particular, a muscular Latino boy with the smoothest tanned skin she'd ever seen, who was laughing and playfully shoving at a taller boy dressed all in black, the monotone color broken up by an obscenely bright green bandanna wrapped around his head.
"Oh, god, Steph," Camille laughed.
"What?" Stephanie grinned. "It's been a whole two months since I've seen the beautiful Carlitos. Do you think he's finally playing for our team now?"
Camille looked over at the boys again, and yep. Right on cue, Kendall Knight draped himself over Carlos, sliding a possessive arm around his waist, and planting a hot kiss on his neck. "Nope. Not at all. Not unless Kendall had decided to give up on boys in tiaras."
"Ah, well," Stephanie made a dramatic long-suffering sigh. "A girl can dream, can't she?"
"Dream a little less boy band, and a little more out-of-work actor," Camille teased, pulling her friend up from the floor. Stephanie just waved one hand in the air in a limp wiggle, and the two girls made their way over to one of the several barres that lined the room. A few seconds later, Jo breathlessly threw herself in between the two of them, massaging the side of her stomach.
"I was last in line for hot water," she explained, making a face at Camille.
"Careful, Miss Taylor," Stephanie hissed from the corner of her mouth. "One more almost tardy, and you'll owe me and Camille something sparkly." Jo stuck her tongue out at Stephanie and extended her leg to poke her in the hip.
Nice Guys - Chester See, Kev Jumba, Ryan Higa - The Troop (Felix/Jake)
"Guess what?" Felix asked, sing-song, practically bouncing up and down in the seat behind Hayley. He hadn't stopped beaming since fifth period, and had, for the past three minutes and twenty-seven second, incessantly poked at Hayley's arm.
Even though they were in class, she caved and turned around. She'd been dying to find out what had happened, and besides, technically, she wasn't breaking any rules because they were in study hall. "What?"
"I have a date with Jake Collins tonight!"
"Jake. Collins. The rebel?"
"What is this, the '50s?" Felix snorted. "Who even says words like "rebel" anymore?"
"You have a date with the new guy?"
"Hayles, Jake's been at this school for the past three months. I think it's safe to consider him acclimated," Felix said, studying his nails.
"No, seriously. Jake is a bad boy."
"Hayley, people are going to think you're either a grandma or someone from, like, an Amish farm, if you use words like "bad boy" and "rebel.""
"He burned down the gym," she insisted.
"He did the school a favor. That moldy place was practically a bio-hazard."
"He showed up drunk at a school assembly."
"Well, he certainly livened it up. Principal Nuss was putting half the student body to sleep."
"Felix, the janitor won't even touch his locker."
"Yeah, that's a little gross," he admitted. "But hey, he's a teenage boy. I can teach him how to keep his station clean."
"Felix, listen to me. You're a nice guy, and he's a bad boy, and you've got to be careful."
"Don't worry. As soon as the date's over, I'll come over and dish," he promised. Hayley was quiet for a beat.
"Fine. But text me when you're leaving so I have enough time to soften the ice cream," she nodded. She poked him in the chest. "But don't be slutty and give it up on the first date."
Felix considered. "You're right. It's more of a second date thing to do." She snorted and shoved at his shoulder before turning back and finishing up her physics homework.
*Wait For You - Elliott Tamin - Big Time Rush (Griffin/Mama Knight)
Arthur Griffin stared down at the dark blue Harry Winston ring box Jennifer Knight had dropped onto his desk. He realized his mouth was agape, but it took him a little while to shake his head and look up at her defiant expression.
"Excuse me?" he asked in a low voice.
"No," she repeated firmly. "I will not be a bargaining chip anymore, Art. I thought I would be okay, I really have no idea why, because you're the CEO of the boys' record company, and I'm the mother of one of the boys- no. You've clearly shown that I am nothing except another way to market the band, and I was lonely, but I can't put up with this anymore."
"What exactly changed your mind?" He slowly stood up, balancing himself by splaying his fingers on top of his glass desk, gathering as much of the cold, calculating persona that he normally wrapped around himself and trying his hardest to exude to the woman in front of him. There was no reason to let his guard down, no reason to make himself beg, to seem vulnerable.
Jennifer took in a deep breath, as if steadying herself. Arthur set his jaw, resisting the urge to gnaw at the inside of his mouth. "You told me that this was as much a business partnership as a romantic relationship." She let out a strangled laugh. "To think that I believed you for saying that says so much about my disillusioned fantasies. You said you would keep the boys' best interest in mind. You said that you would treat Katie like a second daughter. You said that you would be there for me." With each point, her voice rose, and he noticed that she was clenching and unclenching her fists.
He stared back at her, setting his face on "impassive." He unstuck his hands from the tabletop and rounded the desk, so that it was no longer a barrier in between the two of them. She took an involuntary step back and, for a second, Arthur found it hard to breathe. "I do have the boys' best interests in mind. Please, enlighten me on what recent thing I've done that has made you so upset." He barreled on, despite that she had opened her mouth, to probably counter back. "I treat Katie the same way I treat Mercedes. They are both grown women, and they have unlimited access to the things I can offer them. And likewise, I said that I would provide for you, and what haven't I given you that you've asked for? Now, be reasonable. Take back the ring, and we'll still have our engagement. The press is so excited for our upcoming wedding." He tried on a strained smile, sliding the box back towards Jennifer.
Her shoulders slumped and her eyes closed, her lips straightening into a tight line. Then she sighed and reverted back to Mama Knight mode: shoulders back, eyes narrowed, her body a tense line. "Yes, Arthur, you're right. What on earth could I have been thinking?" He started. This was the first time she had called him Arthur. Usually it was Art or, on one occasion, Artie. "But," and her voice softened. "The engagement is still off. I give you back the ring. You don't want to be with me, not really. Find yourself a socialite, who'll fit in better with the higher-ups. I give you my blessing." She shouldered her purse. She wavered for a moment before closing the distance between the two of them and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek, her hand ghosting against his hair. Then she turned and walked out of Arthur's office.
He stood there, unable to move, unable to believe that Jennifer had refused to negotiate. Obdul found him like this ten minutes later. When Arthur still didn't move when Obdul politely cleared his throat from behind him, Obdul furrowed his brow and tentatively prodded his shoulder.
"Get this out of my office," Arthur demanded, his voice low and gruff. Obdul quickly looked around, trying to figure out what his boss wanted gone, and when he didn't immediately acquiesce, Arthur lashed out and swiped at the ring box, throwing it against the wall.
"Now get out," he snapped. Obdul quietly went over to pick up the box, pocketed it, and hurried out of the room. Arthur sat down in his leather chair - the best that money could buy, the sort that looked imposing, was custom built, and was just a little bit uncomfortable - and steepled his fingers together. He briefly leaned his forehead against the small finger pyramid, breathing out. He allowed himself this one moment of weakness, this one moment of vulnerability, this one moment of regret, and then he opened his eyes, smoothed the front of his suit, and pulled out the acquisitions contract that he had been looking over before Jennifer had walked in.
First he would sign this multi-million deal, fire the two incompetent idiots up in business affairs, discuss the terms of Big Time Rush's next year's contract with Mercedes, and then relax in his very expensive penthouse suite to wait for Jennifer's phone call. Because she would call. And explain that this whole episode was nothing but a glitch in the system, and that they were back to being the media's darling couple.
He was sure of it.
*A little nugget from a larger fic idea that I'll hopefully be able to flesh out sometime in the future.
+ (And also, shameless promoting, but pleasepleaseprettyplease ask me questions for the meme! I just need questions for numbers 1, 2, 4, 5, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 16, 18, 20.)
-
The "We're Dancing" segment was heavily inspired by Center Stage (2000).
The Troop drabble is an AU inspired by the "Vampsters" episode, which, I have to admit, I couldn't didn't finish, because, no. Just. No.
Better Get to Movin' - Heffron Drive - Miranda (gen)
"I really don't know why you keep insisting on bringing me out to these clubs, when you know perfectly well that something horrendous will happen. My skirt will fall off, or I'll scare off potential sperm donors, or I'll say something embarrassing about my body," Miranda complained.
Stevie quelled her rambling with a look, a look that, frankly, was a little much for a tiny person like her was supposed to properly grasp. But then, Stevie always had that whole "will persevere against expectations" thing going on, so quelling looks fell under that category, and Miranda usually just shut up and followed orders.
"Well, then, wear a dress this time, try not to get drunk, and stay close with Gary, me, and Clive," Stevie argued. She bent down and then lurched a gigantic handbag onto Miranda's bed. Miranda stared. (Really, it was big enough to fit...well. Nothing that really came straight to Miranda's mind, but, you get it, it was of Mary Poppins variety.) Stevie yanked apart the handles of the bag, reached inside its vast inside, and pulled out a tiny bright pink box.
"And I brought the secret weapon. Dress tape," Stevie pronounced proudly.
"Dress. Tape?" Miranda repeated, slowly drawing out the words. Because who on earth would package Scotch tape in an aesthetically feminine presentation and promise that it would fix the myriad of problems that came with slippery fabric and inevitable breast flashing when a woman donned a party dress? (Apparently, the people that appealed to Stevie. Oh, tiny people, she thought fondly.)
"Yes. Dress tape," Stevie snapped. She huffily put her hands on her hips - which were currently encased in a wispy purple shirt that was pretending to be a grownup dress - and pursed her lips. "Come on, then, Miranda. It's 7:30 and we promised to meet Gary and Clive outside the restaurant at 8:30. Chop, chop!"
Miranda pointed a finger at her best friend. "Never say those words again. We are not in a cooking competition, nor any sort of competition that requires witty comments that exist for the sole purpose for placing anxiety on poor victims-"
"Miranda!" Stevie shrieked.
"All right, all right," Miranda pouted, slinking over to her closet. When Stevie got shrieky and up a few decibels, it was best not to rile her up any further. She sighed as she rifled through the wardrobe. Why couldn't a proper top and slacks work at clubs?
"No slacks!" Stevie called. Miranda jumped. Jesus, could she read minds, now? "We don't want to look like we came straight from work, do we?"
"Maybe I do," Miranda snarked, pushing back her favorite pair of trousers, and woefully batting at the lack of silky dance outfits. She let out a yelp when Stevie shoved her aside. In a matter of moments, she had unearthed a previously unseen dress and brandished it at Miranda.
"Oooh, where did this come from?" she asked delightedly, grabbing the teal colored dress that had flattering short sleeves and an asymmetrical hem. "I've never seen this before. Now go away, Stevie. For I need to change," she said loftily. Stevie just rolled her eyes. Miranda shrugged (it was a shot, wasn't it?) and whipped off her sweats in favor of The Dress that was making her feel like a right princess.
"Now. I'm going to have a quick cup of tea before we leave," Stevie decided. She turned to step out of Miranda's bedroom, but paused, her hand on the doorknob. "Put on makeup, grab a bag, and we'll leave in fifteen minutes, yeah?" Miranda preened in response, fluffing her hair.
We're Dancing - PYT - Big Time Rush (Camille, Jo, Stephanie)
Camille was in the middle of ripping up her new ballet shoes when Stephanie sidled over and nudged her right shoulder with her own. She looked up in time to catch Stephanie wiggle her eyebrows lasciviously at the group of boys who had filed into the dance studio, and she followed her gaze to one boy who Stephanie was staring at in particular, a muscular Latino boy with the smoothest tanned skin she'd ever seen, who was laughing and playfully shoving at a taller boy dressed all in black, the monotone color broken up by an obscenely bright green bandanna wrapped around his head.
"Oh, god, Steph," Camille laughed.
"What?" Stephanie grinned. "It's been a whole two months since I've seen the beautiful Carlitos. Do you think he's finally playing for our team now?"
Camille looked over at the boys again, and yep. Right on cue, Kendall Knight draped himself over Carlos, sliding a possessive arm around his waist, and planting a hot kiss on his neck. "Nope. Not at all. Not unless Kendall had decided to give up on boys in tiaras."
"Ah, well," Stephanie made a dramatic long-suffering sigh. "A girl can dream, can't she?"
"Dream a little less boy band, and a little more out-of-work actor," Camille teased, pulling her friend up from the floor. Stephanie just waved one hand in the air in a limp wiggle, and the two girls made their way over to one of the several barres that lined the room. A few seconds later, Jo breathlessly threw herself in between the two of them, massaging the side of her stomach.
"I was last in line for hot water," she explained, making a face at Camille.
"Careful, Miss Taylor," Stephanie hissed from the corner of her mouth. "One more almost tardy, and you'll owe me and Camille something sparkly." Jo stuck her tongue out at Stephanie and extended her leg to poke her in the hip.
Nice Guys - Chester See, Kev Jumba, Ryan Higa - The Troop (Felix/Jake)
"Guess what?" Felix asked, sing-song, practically bouncing up and down in the seat behind Hayley. He hadn't stopped beaming since fifth period, and had, for the past three minutes and twenty-seven second, incessantly poked at Hayley's arm.
Even though they were in class, she caved and turned around. She'd been dying to find out what had happened, and besides, technically, she wasn't breaking any rules because they were in study hall. "What?"
"I have a date with Jake Collins tonight!"
"Jake. Collins. The rebel?"
"What is this, the '50s?" Felix snorted. "Who even says words like "rebel" anymore?"
"You have a date with the new guy?"
"Hayles, Jake's been at this school for the past three months. I think it's safe to consider him acclimated," Felix said, studying his nails.
"No, seriously. Jake is a bad boy."
"Hayley, people are going to think you're either a grandma or someone from, like, an Amish farm, if you use words like "bad boy" and "rebel.""
"He burned down the gym," she insisted.
"He did the school a favor. That moldy place was practically a bio-hazard."
"He showed up drunk at a school assembly."
"Well, he certainly livened it up. Principal Nuss was putting half the student body to sleep."
"Felix, the janitor won't even touch his locker."
"Yeah, that's a little gross," he admitted. "But hey, he's a teenage boy. I can teach him how to keep his station clean."
"Felix, listen to me. You're a nice guy, and he's a bad boy, and you've got to be careful."
"Don't worry. As soon as the date's over, I'll come over and dish," he promised. Hayley was quiet for a beat.
"Fine. But text me when you're leaving so I have enough time to soften the ice cream," she nodded. She poked him in the chest. "But don't be slutty and give it up on the first date."
Felix considered. "You're right. It's more of a second date thing to do." She snorted and shoved at his shoulder before turning back and finishing up her physics homework.
*Wait For You - Elliott Tamin - Big Time Rush (Griffin/Mama Knight)
Arthur Griffin stared down at the dark blue Harry Winston ring box Jennifer Knight had dropped onto his desk. He realized his mouth was agape, but it took him a little while to shake his head and look up at her defiant expression.
"Excuse me?" he asked in a low voice.
"No," she repeated firmly. "I will not be a bargaining chip anymore, Art. I thought I would be okay, I really have no idea why, because you're the CEO of the boys' record company, and I'm the mother of one of the boys- no. You've clearly shown that I am nothing except another way to market the band, and I was lonely, but I can't put up with this anymore."
"What exactly changed your mind?" He slowly stood up, balancing himself by splaying his fingers on top of his glass desk, gathering as much of the cold, calculating persona that he normally wrapped around himself and trying his hardest to exude to the woman in front of him. There was no reason to let his guard down, no reason to make himself beg, to seem vulnerable.
Jennifer took in a deep breath, as if steadying herself. Arthur set his jaw, resisting the urge to gnaw at the inside of his mouth. "You told me that this was as much a business partnership as a romantic relationship." She let out a strangled laugh. "To think that I believed you for saying that says so much about my disillusioned fantasies. You said you would keep the boys' best interest in mind. You said that you would treat Katie like a second daughter. You said that you would be there for me." With each point, her voice rose, and he noticed that she was clenching and unclenching her fists.
He stared back at her, setting his face on "impassive." He unstuck his hands from the tabletop and rounded the desk, so that it was no longer a barrier in between the two of them. She took an involuntary step back and, for a second, Arthur found it hard to breathe. "I do have the boys' best interests in mind. Please, enlighten me on what recent thing I've done that has made you so upset." He barreled on, despite that she had opened her mouth, to probably counter back. "I treat Katie the same way I treat Mercedes. They are both grown women, and they have unlimited access to the things I can offer them. And likewise, I said that I would provide for you, and what haven't I given you that you've asked for? Now, be reasonable. Take back the ring, and we'll still have our engagement. The press is so excited for our upcoming wedding." He tried on a strained smile, sliding the box back towards Jennifer.
Her shoulders slumped and her eyes closed, her lips straightening into a tight line. Then she sighed and reverted back to Mama Knight mode: shoulders back, eyes narrowed, her body a tense line. "Yes, Arthur, you're right. What on earth could I have been thinking?" He started. This was the first time she had called him Arthur. Usually it was Art or, on one occasion, Artie. "But," and her voice softened. "The engagement is still off. I give you back the ring. You don't want to be with me, not really. Find yourself a socialite, who'll fit in better with the higher-ups. I give you my blessing." She shouldered her purse. She wavered for a moment before closing the distance between the two of them and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek, her hand ghosting against his hair. Then she turned and walked out of Arthur's office.
He stood there, unable to move, unable to believe that Jennifer had refused to negotiate. Obdul found him like this ten minutes later. When Arthur still didn't move when Obdul politely cleared his throat from behind him, Obdul furrowed his brow and tentatively prodded his shoulder.
"Get this out of my office," Arthur demanded, his voice low and gruff. Obdul quickly looked around, trying to figure out what his boss wanted gone, and when he didn't immediately acquiesce, Arthur lashed out and swiped at the ring box, throwing it against the wall.
"Now get out," he snapped. Obdul quietly went over to pick up the box, pocketed it, and hurried out of the room. Arthur sat down in his leather chair - the best that money could buy, the sort that looked imposing, was custom built, and was just a little bit uncomfortable - and steepled his fingers together. He briefly leaned his forehead against the small finger pyramid, breathing out. He allowed himself this one moment of weakness, this one moment of vulnerability, this one moment of regret, and then he opened his eyes, smoothed the front of his suit, and pulled out the acquisitions contract that he had been looking over before Jennifer had walked in.
First he would sign this multi-million deal, fire the two incompetent idiots up in business affairs, discuss the terms of Big Time Rush's next year's contract with Mercedes, and then relax in his very expensive penthouse suite to wait for Jennifer's phone call. Because she would call. And explain that this whole episode was nothing but a glitch in the system, and that they were back to being the media's darling couple.
He was sure of it.
*A little nugget from a larger fic idea that I'll hopefully be able to flesh out sometime in the future.
+ (And also, shameless promoting, but pleasepleaseprettyplease ask me questions for the meme! I just need questions for numbers 1, 2, 4, 5, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 16, 18, 20.)
-
The "We're Dancing" segment was heavily inspired by Center Stage (2000).
The Troop drabble is an AU inspired by the "Vampsters" episode, which, I have to admit, I couldn't didn't finish, because, no. Just. No.