A Request is what you want read. A Fill is the fictional realization of that request.
This meme is het, slash, femslash, and gen friendly.
We welcome all ratings.
Do I have to post anonymously? Well, it would be cool. Anonymity is cool. But we won't enforce it.
How long does this go on? The meme will last longer than the Cheese Festival itself. How long? Who knows! Hopefully a long time! But eventually, the meme probably will be closed after participation dwindles in order to avoid spam. We will put up warnings two weeks in advance if the meme is closing.
Yo, can I promote this? Yes, please! Find promotional banners here!
SUBMITTING A REQUEST? READ THIS FIRST.
Make one Request per comment.
Requests must include a character or pairing AND a prompt. Prompt can be anything from a single word to a detailed scenario describing what you want.
Please use this basic format: Pairing. Prompt. An example would be this: Phoebe/Gerald. Studying in the treehouse.
To request a sexual scenario, you must be 18 years old.
You understand that if you request a sexual scenario, a Filler must Fill your request with a depiction of the involved parties as age 18 or older. If a Requester or a Filler submits anything with explicit underage sex, it will be screened and/or deleted.
FILLING A REQUEST? READ THIS FIRST.
To post a Fill, post it as a reply to the Request you are filling.
Please format your subject lines like so: FILL: Title Goes Here.
Explicit and potentially triggery content (non-con, suicide, gore, etc.) requires warnings and a rating at the beginning of your Fill. Readers, please tread with caution.
Fill too big for a single comment? Post in multiple comments and make sure all subsequent parts define themselves as PART 2, PART 3, etc. in the SUBJECT LINE. But you will probably not need to do this because Dreamwidth allows very large comments.
May I write a continuation or sequel to someone else's Fill? No.
After you have posted a Fill, respond to THE LIST (the first comment on this page) with a link. That way links to all completed Fills can be found in one place.
I messed up my comment! Can I delete it? No, only a mod can delete anonymous comments. You'll need to re-post your (fixed) comment yourself, then visit The Stoop to ask a mod to delete the messed-up comment.
I'm real proud of this shit I wrote. If I post anon now, can I "come out" as author later? Yes, your work is your work. If you want to re-post in your journal or elsewhere, you may do so at any time.
Still as lost and confused as Harold on the subway? Come ask us anything at THE STOOP.
Remember to sign-out before you post if you want to remain anonymous!
Request: It's Phoebe that wants to have sex someplace where they could be caught. It's Gerald who obliges.
NC-17! Explicit sex!
Gerald pushed the door so that it swung open wide.
"Man, I am so tired of homework!" he announced. In the grand space of that university classroom, there lurked but one person, and she was too busy scratching her pen across the page to notice him. Gerald approached Phoebe's large, dark desk with a Stride of Purpose, but did not get any acknowledgement from her until he leaned against it and it budged. She flattened her hand on the surface in surprise, then immediately returned to writing.
"Hello, Gerald," she greeted, offering him a brief, but very genuine, smile.
"I cannot wait until tonight," he told her.
"Tonight...?"
"Oh no," he said turning and leaning forward on the desk, arms at wide angles. "You're not backing out now. I've got reservations and we are going to have a nice dinner. There will be candlelight, great food... no homework. Not a worry in the world."
The words and their meanings stood suspended in the air, but Gerald got the feeling he was the only one to have noticed them. Phoebe was so captivated by what was in the books piled up around her, one could almost think they aroused her more than a romantic date did. He turned around and scanned the rows of empty desks, resolving to back off since Phoebe was not of a mind to listen right then. But as soon as he did, Phoebe dropped her pen and rounded the desk.
"Don't worry, I wouldn't dream of cancelling." She smoothed her palm down his shoulder. "It will be lovely."
She licked her lips. "In fact, maybe we could do a little relaxing right now."
A feral smile grew between them. Then Gerald hesitated. "Here?"
"My next class isn't for..." She checked the clock. "Forty-five minutes."
"And I don't have classes for the day," Gerald said. "We should lock the door."
Gerald was surprised that Phoebe responded to that with a moment of odd silence.
"But wouldn't it be fun if... we didn't?"
Gerald frowned. "You... don't want to lock the door."
"We'll be quick," she insisted. "It'll be exciting!"
Any hesitations he had fell out of style when he studied the excitement thrumming through Phoebe's body. He affirmed his agreement by pulling her against him. They shared a lot of tongue in a brief kiss that was followed by Phoebe leaning against the desk, her hands sliding along the edge, and her eyes flickering down.
Instead of sweeping everything off the desk dramatically, they gathered everything by hand and moved it onto the smaller, student desks. The desk itself was not in view of the window next to the door, but if someone happened to wander in on them without knocking, no way could they miss the scene playing out.
With Phoebe's back flat down on the surface, Gerald leaned into the vee of her legs. To get things warmed up while their clothes were still on, he committed a leisurely kiss that started at her mouth and ended by her hairline. He jumped to her knuckles and left them wet before skipping to slide the shoes and socks off her feet. Phoebe's breaths had grown loud. He kissed the soles of her feet, then leaned down and kissed her right between the legs.
"Gerald," Phoebe implored. She sat up and put her mouth to his ear. "Fuck me right now."
"I will, baby."
They made quick work of Phoebe's pants and panties. Gerald didn't bother to step out of his own pants, letting them gather at his shins as he condomed and pressed his cock forward, first without haste, but after awhile haste grew and haste drove their every thrust.
"You like that, baby?"
"Harder," she demanded. He was all to happy to oblige.
His hold on his inhibitions began to slip. He groaned for Phoebe, let her know what she did to him, what she did for him. It echoed in the pale daylight of the large room. Phoebe grasped for the edge of the desk to keep herself in place and the sight of her wanting it, loving it, demanding it, was what he stared at as he came.
And it was damn good. That's all he had to say about that.
After a minute of floating in feelings, he re-awoke to the very physical, very ruffled form of his lover in front of him. Once again, they shared feral grins. Phoebe pinched his nipple through his shirt like the page of a book.
This is so beautiful - the descriptions, the imagery, the despair. You captured it all so well; and even though this story was very angsty and the plot was sad, I still loved it. You captured Helga's loss so well and kept in her character with how she tried to sabotage the wedding.
I also liked the little nod to Harold and how he managed to move on. I think it really says a lot about Helga's character that she cannot move on from loving Arnold no matter what.
Arnold had always thought of the boarding house as one big family.
Some would say it just couldn't be done. You might play family together, but you'd never be as tied together the way you are with blood. Well, Arnold had never had much by way of blood family. He survived them all by the time he graduated high school, save for a few cousins. But Arnold had stayed put and managed the boarding house with Suzie, who was as much family to him as anyone. Sure, someone drifted away sometimes. Oscar Kokasha was long out of the picture. Suzie eventually found a bigger job in a bigger city and the bond she and Arnold had shared barely subsisted on Christmas cards now. But maybe family doesn't have to be forever, either. People change, maybe families are better off changing too.
"Excuse me, Arnold!"
A crowd of cats and dogs rushed past Arnold to get inside the boarding house. Mr. Hyunh was coming down the stairs, his guitar case a much richer black than his hair now.
"Another gig, eh, Mr. Hyunh?" Arnold asked, scooching aside.
"Just a small country club!" Mr. Hyuhn told him as the taxi arrived.
Arnold took a cigarette from his pocket and fell into thought again. The window above let escape the sounds of Ernie and Lola's laughter, which bounced off brick and cement. Those voices struck chords of devotion in his heart. He cherished his boarding family. Traditional family sounded great and all, but Arnold didn't actually know what it was like, and didn't feel the need to find out.
He supposed it was these feelings that brought him to his unique situation today. Not simply in terms of family, but in terms of romance.
With scenes of romance playing out in his mind's eye, he didn't react to the footsteps until the feet were parked next to his on the stoop.
"Hey, man," Gerald said. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm just..."
"Daydreaming?" Gerald finished for him.
They passed the cigarette between them. "Yeah."
Gerald loosened his tie and told Arnold about his day. It was great weather, enough sun peaking out to warm them without making them sweat. Arnold tilted his head back and listened, humming understanding at all the right moments. He enjoyed this time they had alone together, which was rare and could only be caught in the first minutes of Gerald's arrival home from work. It wouldn't be long until the third and final component of their relationship arrived from hers.
One of Gerald's anecdotes had sent the two of them into cascades of laughter when Helga came walking fast from the bus stop.
"What'd I miss? What are we doing?" she asked, never wanting to miss a beat. She opened the box of leftover donuts she'd brought along, waving away smoke as she offered them up.
Arnold shut the box and held it.
"Dinner is cooking," he explained to their twin expressions of injustice.
Gerald glanced at Helga and she offered a shrug, as if to communicate some unspoken, inrefutable knowledge about Arnold being Arnold.
"Well, what is it then?" Helga asked.
"Spaghetti," Arnold said, skin flushing when Gerald's hand creeped across his stomach toward the donuts. "With meatballs."
Gerald relinquished his donut search and brightened at the mention of meatballs.
"Sounds good!" Helga declared and leaned across to plant a kiss on Arnold's forehead. Gerald held out his cheek expectantly, so Helga rolled her eyes and gave him a peck right on the mouth, then whispered, "Race you to the dining room!"
And with a dash they were gone, animals scrambling out the door they left open.
Helga and Gerald's interactions were still like those of kids, sometimes. Not that Arnold wasn't up for some childish fun once in a while, but Helga and Gerald's relationship seemed to subsist on playfulness and a lack of heart-to-hearts. He wasn't quite sure how that worked for them--Arnold personally couldn't imagine being with someone whom you couldn't speak plainly to about your emotions. But maybe that's what Arnold was for. They each brought something different to the relationship, and Arnold and his qualities were just one piece of their puzzle. He knew that Helga and Gerald appreciated... other... qualities about each other, enough to keep their interactions lacking old hostility most of the time. When they did fight, it was the worst, especially for Arnold who always wound up in the middle. But more often then not, they made it work. They worked at it, and they embraced all that it offered them. They shared secrets, and anecdotes, and advice.
And most importantly, Arnold thought as he fed the donuts to Abner Junior and the dogs, "we love each other. And that's family enough for me.
Harold just couldn't believe this. Here he was again at the Cheese Festival with the one girl he thought he'd never see again after school - or in his life, for that matter. But yet here he was: the old school dummy that turned out to be more than he looked, Harold Berman who successfully managed to graduate in business school for the surprise of many of his old friends; and there she was, extraordinaire fashion woman Rhonda Wellington Lloyd, with him. All of this seemed like a dream.
"Now come on, Harold, don't make me stand here waiting!" The young woman called out for him.
Nodding awkwardly, he started walking with her through the small boots. Rhonda didn't really fit in with the place at all; her clothes were far too elegant and formal for a small city festival like this. He was wearing a suit, since he had been in a business meeting regarding the local butchery not long ago, somewhat in a formal attire as well.
The last time they had been in the festival together had been so long ago. They were only ten - well, he was thirteen - and Rhonda had been the one who forced him to go. Later on she denied the event ever happened and even though he was happy to comply at the time regarding his tough reputation, Harold still could remember a small part of him break that day. After that neither one of them spoke alone again, the only exceptions being school works such as taking care of that stupid egg.
Their little date at the Cheese Festival was never mentioned again during their school years and they graduated from high school without ever discussing the subject. For him, it had been over very long ago. His only link to the school was the occasional hellos with his old guy friends from school and his then-girlfriend Big Patty. Unfortunately, it didn't work out for them.
Harold sighed a little sadly remembering the lost times with Patty. Their breakup hadn't been so recent, but he didn't date - till now, that is. Today had been one of the craziest days in his life: after waking up late and bumping into some of his old classmates in the city – he was still trying to hide from a very angry-looking Helga G. Pataki too - he ran into the one person he never thought he would ever see again. Rhonda. They didn't talk at all for the first minutes and then, out of nowhere, she dragged him through the streets and to the Cheese Festival.
Suddenly remembering his "date" for the evening, Harold looked at his side. Rhonda was talking about something regarding fashion, but he wasn't listening. In fact, he was just looking.
Rhonda looked the same, yet still different from the young girl and teenager he grew up with. Her hair was longer now, touching her shoulders, but it still looked as soft as ever. Her sense in style and fashion never waned either; her clothes were elegant and definitely expensive, but it didn't look exaggerated at all. Yet, there was something very different in this Rhonda. She didn't act and talk as haughtily as she did before. Her words seemed more controlled, as if she was afraid to talk to him - as if there was something holding her back.
Finally, his curiosity got the best of him. Taking a deep breath, Harold asked her.
"Rhonda, why are we here?"
Turning around, she looked at him with one of her famous you-must-be-really-stupid looks. As if expecting that her expression would explain everything, the dark haired woman just sighed and looked at him once more.
"Oh come on, Harold. We haven't seen each other in years and today, of all days, when I finally decided to get over the way Gammelthorpe got over me - which still shocks me; how could he just change his lifelong obsession for me to some other girl? - anyway, and begin a different stage of my life, look who shows up!" Rhonda was raising the volume of her voice with each word as excitement washed over face. Harold still couldn't understand. She frowned. "You, Harold!"
"Huh?"
Rhonda looked quite infuriated, but as she held one of the bigger man's hand in her own, there was also a twinkle in her eyes.
"You showed up, Harold." She smiled happily at him. "After all this time, I thought I'd never see you again and I firmly believed that my crush had become completely one-sided... That is, until you accepted my invitation to come here." Both of them purposefully ignored the fact that she had dragged him here instead of just asking. "Here, at the Cheese Festival."
Harold didn't answer her. He was still shocked with Rhonda's sudden reappearance in his life and strange ways of regarding things - but then again, he had never really understood Rhonda Lloyd and that had been one of the many things he liked (still liked) about her. Noticing her worried look - perhaps she thought he had forgotten? - he smiled at her as he held her hand more firmly, yet delicately.
"This reminds me when we were two little kids in a weird festival."
She smiled at his response. Still holding hands, both adults looked at each other in a nostalgic way as they approached the love tunnel. Laughing, Rhonda repeated her old phrase. A phrase that had never really lost its meaning to her; not really.
Author: Thank you very much, dear. I'm really glad you liked it! And yes, I don't think Helga, with the way she is, could ever truly move on from Arnold. After all every love she had was transfered to him - for the good and the bad. I believe Harold could've worked with Rhonda though, those two are funny together. Thanks!
The high-pitched scream echoed through the streets of Hillwood, coming from the Wellington Lloyd house. Inside there was a black-haired girl who was currently living her worst nightmare and no, she wasn't exaggerating. In her hands lay a simple, innocent toy which she now realized could only bring disaster.
Rhonda gasped as she realized what she'd done. With the devilishly little toy she had brought pain and lies to the lives of her classmates - those poor, deluded kids. How she must have given them nightmares of the worst kind and shattered their dreams and hopes. She knew all that and more because that was also happening to her, right now. She eyed the toy with disgust and, without flinching, threw it unceremoniously in the trash bin.
Oh, how many wrong doings she'd done with that broken toy. She'd have to correct them all and pronto. No, Rhonda Wellington Lloyd was no sadist - as proof she would never take pleasure in seeing another kid dressed so horrendously - and she would fix this. Eying the clock, she noticed there was only a few minutes before her bedtime, so she would only be able to correct things tomorrow. She just hoped no one would have nightmares tonight - because she surely would.
Tomorrow on the bus; that's when she'd correct her wrong doings and give hope to those poor children again. She'd tell Nadine, her best friend, first and then she'd tell all the girls: Sheena (the poor girl had been stuck with Eugene!), Phoebe (how would the little nerd ever end up with Gerald, anyway?), Lila (come on, Arnold's cousin? Who'd want that basket case for a husband?). Speaking of which, Rhonda remembered with a gasp: Arnold! The goody two shoes, the voice of reason and all in all a nice boy got Helga, the bully with absolutely no sense of fashion whatsoever (that pink bow still irked Rhonda in more ways than one). Arnold and Helga? She should have realized something was wrong from that.
It had been decided; Rhonda would say it all as soon as the day began.
Sighing, the girl said to herself. "Oh please, as if a toy could foretell your future love husband. I should have known better."
In the trash bin, among many patches of clothes, laid a piece of paper written, "Thadeus 'Curly' Gammelthorpe".
"So... You really don't know how to dance?" Rhonda asked in a voice slightly less confident than usual. The black-haired teenager was dressed in a slick red dress that matched her figure quite well.
Patty, who was still big, but no longer awkwardly so, nodded. The blond girl grew into a pleasant beauty. Her unibrow was neatly trimmed and her golden hair was over her shoulders. She wore a simple blue dress that complimented her dedicatedness. Rhonda called it her masterpiece.
With a sigh, the younger girl answered nonchalantly. "I see." Noticing Patty's frown, she added, "Then we must change this, obviously."
Patty's only hint of what the stylish girl was going to do next was a wink that sent a blush through her larger cheeks. Rhonda dragged Patty in a impressive fit of strength to the middle of the saloon where other couples were dancing. Patty realized with slight panic that they were the only girls dancing (or trying to, in her case) together. But as soon as she touched the other girl's hands, Patty felt lighter. The warmth of the smaller girl's hand and the aroma of fancy perfume almost made Patty overhear everything Rhonda was saying.
Only a few moments later did Patty realize she was actually leading, rather than being led. With a frown, she asked Rhonda.
"How come I'm leading? I'm a girl!"
"Oh please, Patricia. Surely you don't expect me to lead now, do you?" Rhonda answered haughtily, but there was also mirth in her words. "We can change later."
Something in Rhonda's tone and smirk made Party awfully uncomfortable - but the good kind of uncomfortable. She couldn't care less if others were watching and apparently, neither could Rhonda. Her previous statement had been somewhat of a lie as well; it's not that Patty didn't know how to dance, but she wasn't exactly skilled in it either. Her only experience had been with Harold, who ironically turned out to be her and Rhonda's ex - and the reason that brought them together after so many trials.
There was something different in this dance, however. Perhaps it was the fact that she was leading or because the was dancing with another girl, but there was definitely something different. Standing close to Rhonda and holding her hand with no qualms from the younger girl always made Patty much calmer. Rhonda also toned down her cruel remarks and snobbishness when near her since she knew how Patty hated that type of attitude. In a way, the completed each other with their differences.
A squeeze in her right hand brought her attention back to Rhonda's face and Patty realized she had been looking only at their feet for the last few minutes. Rhonda didn't seem to mind, though. With another one of the Lloyd's famous smiles and with a visible twinkle in her eyes, Rhonda whispered secretly to Patty.
"You lied, Patricia." Noticing Patty's frown - she would never lie to Rhonda - the black-haired girl continued with the same smile, "You do know how to dance."
Patty couldn't help but laugh lightheartedly. Rhonda always knew how to make things work.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fic_me_arnold) wrote2012-07-16 05:45 pm
Page 3 of 4