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el_em_en_oh_pee
rules:
- leave a comment with a prompt, anonymous or not (ip logging is off) and go forth and fill said prompts.
- fills can be made directly in comments, or posted on your own journal/ao3/etc. (i'd advise against tumblr, just for formatting purposes.)
- please don't post friendslocked fills.
- one prompt per comment; no limit on prompts or fills
- at least one member of one direction in each prompt must identify as female (does not have to be cisgender).
- veronica counts. (cisdude zayn dressing up like veronica doesn't)
- fic can be het, femslash, or gen. or any permutation of the three!
- warn for any comment triggers or hard kinks
rape, abuse (physical/mental/emotional/sexual/child/domestic/self), suicide, drug/alcohol addiction/habit, character death, slurs, non-sexual bodily fluids, injury, underage (defined as any participants under 14 or any age gap of more than ten years when one participant is under 17) - be nice
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no subject
Date: 2014-01-05 01:00 am (UTC)It’s Liam’s idea in the end, and she twists her baseball hat backwards, a tiny tuft of hair peeking out over the snapback, grinning at them all until even Niall’s rolling her eyes.
“Get on with it, then,” she says, shaking her head and reaching across Harry to nick some of Zayn’s chocolate covered potato chips, to a chorus of groans and those have gluten in them and don’t come crying to me when your head hurts later.
“Get on with what?” Liam asks, rocking back on her heels and dragging her backpack, the one that Louis sewed all those patches onto, in front of her and pulling out a glossy notebook.
“The rules,” Louis pitches in, perking up at the sight of Liam’s backpack. “I know, I know, you’ve spent all last night writing a million tiny little rules into that journal of yours, and I know you’ve spend ages practicing your speech about responsibility and helping and coloring inside the lines and—”
“Well it’s true,” Liam tells her, “I mean, this isn’t just for fun anymore, it’s—”
“For money, now,” Harry cuts in, grinning and fixing her braid, “and for other people, and for Stonybrook, and—”
“D’you think,” Zayn says suddenly, looking up from her sketchbook and dropping her pen unceremoniously onto the floor, “d’you think that I could make earrings from those seashells Niall got me last week?”
Louis tosses a pillow at Zayn for that, and then Niall throws the empty bag of chocolate covered potato chips, and even Liam’s giggling along with them, burying her face in Harry’s shoulder, and just like that, the first meeting’s fizzled out.
+
Liam calls round everyone’s house later that night, the little kids running by her and getting the telephone cord all tangled, half reading her list of rules and half chiding them all for the meeting earlier, and when they get to school the next day, they find Liam’s copies of the rules stuck to each of their lockers, decorated in stickers and crayon scrawled doodles courtesy of the little kids (and maybe Liam too, though she’d never admit to it).
no subject
Date: 2014-01-05 01:01 am (UTC)They make the boxes a few meetings in, after Harry got stuck during a thunderstorm at that freckled kid’s house with nothing on hand but her geography homework and an old doll of her mom’s. Even Liam waved aside the official business she’d planned for the night in favor of this, sprawling on Zayn’s floor with magazine clippings and glitter tubes and old coloring books, and it almost felt like old times, before they got so grown up with the club.
“S’good idea,” Niall says, leaning over and wiping the glitter off of her hands and onto Zayn’s black pants.
Zayn scowls at first, then shifts and, watching the glitter in the light, shrugs. “They needed something,” she says finally, “black by itself is just so boring.”
“Oh yeah?” Niall grins, wiggling her glitter-covered fingers in Zayn’s direction. “Think I can fix you up later then, if you like.”
“What about,” Liam says, a bit loudly, looking over at Harry and rolling her eyes towards Niall, “What about, maybe, I dunno, making up a set of pre-made games too? Like little pads of hangmen already set up, or little Mad Libs sets? For the older kids?”
“Or paper dolls,” Louis says, shaking out her hair, “with extra sheets of different outfits, and different scenes to put them up against, and little blank notebooks where we can write the stories the kids make up for them?”
“Like that idea,” Harry mumbles, bending over her box and sticking out her tongue in concentration as she glues a picture of a puppy onto the lid.
“Can I design the outfits?” Zayn asks, not even looking up from her box as she swats one of Niall’s hands away from her pants and the other hand away from her caramel cookies. “Gluten,” she says, missing Liam’s warning look at Niall and the tongue Niall sticks out in response.
“Only if I can help,” Louis answers, “we can go to the mall too, look around for ideas—”
“And shop too?” Liam asks, raising an eyebrow and fixing her baseball hat.
“Well there is this dress I’ve been dying for, but just trying it on doesn’t hurt—”
“And I can check out this sweater I’ve had my eye on forever,” Zayn agrees, “Not that I’m planning on buying it or anything,” she adds quickly. “Just, just checking on it.”
“Right, course, just checking.”
“You too,” Liam says, trying for stern and landing on fond instead, “are something else.”
“Thanks,” Louis grins.
“Not a compliment.”
“Love you too, Li.”
“Shut it, you, and get back to work on your box.”
“Aye, aye, captain.”
no subject
Date: 2014-01-05 01:01 am (UTC)They have their slowest night a few weeks later, with only a handful of phone calls, most of them just checking on their already scheduled sitters.
Harry’s in the corner with Louis, Louis’ knees pressed to Harry’s back as she works her fingers through Harry’s hair, ignoring Harry’s protests. “Oh, shush,” she says, reaching round to poke Harry’s cheek with a bobby pin, “you’ll have your braid back before you get home, this is just for, I dunno, fun, remember fun?” Harry opens her mouth to reply but sighs instead, pulling a face and settling back in against Louis’ knees.
Zayn’s sprawled across her bed, the telephone resting near her foot, painting those new white canvas sneakers she begged for. Niall’s half watching her paint, broad streaks of color across one and then tiny raindrops dotted on the other, flecks of paint like freckles spreading across her cheeks, her eyes shifting back to her English essay every few moments. “You gonna get in trouble for that?” Niall asks, blinking up at Zayn and letting her essay fall to the floor.
Zayn shrugs, swirling the colors on the heel of the raindrop shoe to make a sort of rainbow, wild and imperfect. “Can’t contain art,” she says finally, and Niall wonders if she’s quoting something, her grandmother maybe, or a line from one of those black and white movies she always tries to sneak on without anybody noticing, but then she looks up and grins, her eyes sparkling and the paint smudged against her cheekbone, and Niall gives in, smiling back and reaching down to grab her essay again.
And Liam’s sitting against Zayn’s dresser, the mismatched knobs digging into her back, the appointment book open at her feet and her backpack leaning against her knee. She thinks about doing homework, briefly, picturing the chaos of home and knowing she won’t be able to settle there till later, after the little kids go to bed, but she pushes her backpack away instead, shifting away from the knobs and watching her friends. She tries to remember the reasons she had for wanting to start this club, words like responsibility and college applications and leadership floating around in her head before she shakes them away, thinking instead that this is the real reason, that her stupid goofy friends are why.
She sits forward then, twisting her baseball hat and smiling for half a beat before flipping her pencil at Niall and reaching out to nudge Harry’s knee with her foot. “C’mon guys,” she says, “we need to brainstorm a bit more before the meeting’s over.”
no subject
Date: 2014-01-05 01:55 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2014-01-08 05:35 pm (UTC)