① Sleeping Beauty: Fallen into a deep, magical sleep, the only thing that can wake you is true love's kiss!
② The Little Mermaid: Oh no! The witch has stolen your voice! Use sign language, write a sign, get your love to kiss you or else get stuck in the ocean again.
③ Tarzan: He's a wild man! Will you teach him the ways of the world, and maybe the ways of love while you're at it?
④ Beauty and the Beast: The prince has been transformed into a beast by a spell, the only way for it to be broken is for someone to fall in love with him. Who will be the one to break through to him and break the spell?
⑤ Cinderella: They met at the ball and really hit it off, but when the clock struck midnight, that mysterious lover ran off! All that's left is a glass slipper, time to start knocking on doors...
⑥ Frog Prince(ss): Will you kiss that frog and turn them into your true love?
⑦ Rapunzel: Locked in a tower, will love ever come rescue you?
⑧ Aladdin: Can someone who grew up on the mean streets capture the heart of royalty?
⑨ Swan Princess: Swan in the daylight, human at night, can love conquer all and find a way to break the curse?
⑩ Open: Do any fairy tale you want or combine options to make your own. :)
Rules: ❦ POST with your character, canon and prefs in the subject line. ❦ COMMENT to other threads and pick a number. (Or let RNG pick.) ❦ THREAD out the scenarios! ❦ Have FUN.
[There's no one that really defines "street urchin" Like the McDonald boy. Fresh from the country trying to make it in the city. The thing is, the biggest and best thing about the city is the book shop.
He loves the book shop. Except that the owner doesn't like him in there. And he never has any money to take anything home. So sometimes...the books go missing.
They're always returned. Like today. That copy there? the dusty red thing with a few smudge marks on it? That was just returned.
Here is a lanky young man with hair hanging in his eyes looking for something new to read]
[the bookshop is almost a holy place to belle. from the moment she enters, she's nothing but awe and reverence, flipping through pages and fingers running over spines with the utmost respect to the words inside. she gives the older, "damaged" ones more care than the others. the respect-your-elders adage applies to books as well, apparently. the smudged one that he snuck back in? it's in her lap now, as she sits in the chair by the window.
her father doesn't like her coming here. neither does gaston, and he tries to chaperone her until she manages to slip away. a princess has duties, they tell her, but she's grown and there are no more lessons, no balls in the middle of the day, and even if she's desperate to escape him, she has a suitor. duties can wait.]
[Oh. Oh! New books. Lindsey is completely oblivious to the young woman - but not to the store proprietor.]
You! You're the one always stealing my books! Out! Out! -
[Lindsey protests as the proprietor backs him toward the door. At some point in the conversation, he mentions "Returning books" and points...to where the smudged book had been]
I swear I brought it back...
[More yelling. Dirty thief, street rat. Get out. Lindsey looks pained.] ...I'm sorry already!
[This argument is making a lot of noise, and possibly drawing a lot of attention from other shop patrons]
[the commotion jolts belle from her reading reverie and her attention is drawn toward it immediately. eyebrows drawn together and with a prominent frown, she rises from her chair and heads over in that direction, peeking over shelves to get a better look. it's not violent, just yelling - and names, and there's nothing in the boy's hands and she's sure he hasn't stolen, and:]
What's going on?
[she steps out from behind the shelf, straight-backed, staring the owner down.]
[belle hadn't anticipated being caught in the crossfire. Finger marking her place, she closes the book and holds it up, pointing at the cover - and then back to the front counter. she shakes her head.]
I found it up there. I just assumed it hadn't been shelved - if you want me to put it back, then I will.
[he's gone in a flash and belle is back behind one of the shelves, standing on tiptoe to peer over it at him, expression slowly turning into a scowl.]
Wait -
[she lets out a sigh before handing her book back to the owner and taking off after him, surprisingly quick. belle catches up to him easily, but she's out of breath when she reaches out to grab his arm and stop him.]
Royal balls were never really that enjoyable for security detail. It was just another place for the team to do their job, after all.
But on this particular evening, one particular security agent (his name is Dale) is granted an early evening, which means - if he so chooses - free time to mix and mingle. Or just go home.
Of course, even security detail has to have fun once in a while.
And so there he is - standing awkwardly by the punch table, glass perpetually glued to his hand while he observes his surroundings.
"You look very enthusiastic," she says, almost over his shoulder. She has a glimmer of a half-smile on her face and the sarcasm is more than obvious, even without the quirked eyebrow.
Oh, she knows. Truth be told, these formal engagements aren't much to her liking, either; they seem like fun, dancing, drinking - dancing some more until you collapse or the sun rises (whichever comes first). But there's the undercurrent of rigidity that Belle can't escape from, and she feels trapped - constricted. The fresh air outside does little to help.
And so wallflowers? They tend to find one another, apparently. Some kind of secret code, maybe.
The sudden voice makes Dale jump - but not too much. Because he isn't startled or anything.
He glances over at the - well, extremely pretty girl - and cracks a slight smile. "Do I?" he asks. "I guess I'm doing a pretty good job fooling myself too."
Belle tries not to laugh at his jolt. She puts her hand to her mouth and actually manages not to as she scoots around to stand next to him. "I - ah - take it you aren't used to things like this?"
She takes advantage of the pause to pour herself a quick drink. The punch is totally not spiked. Except for that it is. Turning around again, she whispers, "Though, I think everyone else here is as bored as you are."
"How'd you guess?" he replies, chuckling a bit himself. He takes a sip of punch, then clears his throat.
"I've never really attended one of these things outside of work. Decided to give it a shot. And - well - here I am." He makes a sweeping gesture towards himself.
Oh, he knows it's spiked. And it's rather unfortunate. What he would give for a cup of coffee.
"You must be extremely bored if you've reserved yourself to talking with me," he comments, his eyebrows raising as he takes another sip.
"You looked like you could use the company," she replies to his comment - completely innocently, no sense of judgment there at all. She takes a drink of her punch as well, and she grimaces. She'd been expecting the bitterness from the alcohol, but the punch doesn't dull it as much as she'd hoped.
It'd be rude to simply leave it on the table, though, so she just lets the hand holding the glass hang limply by her side as she turns to him again. "What do you mean, outside of work? What do you do?"
Well darn. That's actually pretty sweet of her. He tries not to look too touched. And takes another sip.
"I'm in security," he finally replies with another awkward clearing of his throat. "Was... actually... securing tonight's venue. But I managed a get-out-of-work-early card, I guess you can say."
His free hand pulls his coat open a bit, giving the girl a brief look at his shiny badge pinned to his shirt underneath. Just - you know - to make things legit.
Her expression turns from interested to actually impressed. Legit, indeed. What with her father's protection and their status, there have always been agents around (Belle once found herself very close to being engaged to one once - she still is regularly relieved that it didn't come to pass), but, oddly enough, she's never found herself conversing with one. There were attempts, of course, but they all seemed so strict and unmoving that she'd just stopped trying.
This man's awkward, of course. But he actually seems friendly enough. So, mission accomplished.
"I'm sorry we can't be more entertaining, since you put in all that work," Belle says with a light shrug. Then, she blinks, realizing something she's forgotten: "Oh - I'm sorry. I'm Belle."
"I knew you looked familiar," he blurts out, his mental filter not exactly catching his words. But he's quick to try and fix his mistake. "Ah - yes. Yes indeed you are. It's wonderful to formally make your acquaintance, Miss Belle."
He goes to extend a hand for a polite shake, then draws his arm back in. Should he be so bold as to shake hands with her? Would that be impolite? Instead, he just settles on a slight bow.
There's a bit of an awkward pause as he - well - doesn't shake her hand. And a frown. And then he's bowing and what is even happening? She laughs, but she hopes it won't change his attitude toward her; it's nice to have a normal conversation without formalities.
But for now, Belle humors him, taking the sides of her skirt into her hands before dipping into a bow. "A pleasure to meet you, Mister...?" And an expectant look. Good job on the introductions.
But that impressed look is back, and she says, "Well, a pleasure to meet you, Agent." That sounds weird. Back to formalities, she supposes, but she doesn't say anything about it until she rolls her eyes and shakes her head.
"You don't have to bow, you now," she tells him. "I won't tell my father if you don't."
"My apologies, Miss!" he quickly replies. "It's just - I feel like I'm always on the job. Things just get - ingrained, you know?"
Cooper rocks back and forth on the heels of his feet, taking another sip of punch from his glass. The last thing he needs is her father knowing he's been impolite. That would be horrid.
And then he's out of punch. Instead of refilling his glass just yet, he sets it down on the table. To keep his hands occupied for the meanwhile, they go in his pockets.
Now he's at a complete loss for words. He's never been alone with a girl of Belle's station before. So he'll just smile hopefully and glance around nervously.
Belle has the idea that laughing actually isn't going to help ease the awkwardness at hand - coming straight from him, as she's actually rather relaxed. Attending these things since childhood will do that to a girl. She says, "I understand," as reassuringly as possible, and then her punch glass goes onto the table next to his - half full.
Hand on her hip, she looks over at him and says, "I don't suppose I should ask you to dance, then, as you're new to this." Granted, the band isn't playing the most spectacular music ever, but one has to admit: it's more exciting than just standing around.
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bakerstreet2013-02-06 03:17 pm
belle ◦ ouat.
Aladdin of sorts?
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He loves the book shop. Except that the owner doesn't like him in there. And he never has any money to take anything home. So sometimes...the books go missing.
They're always returned. Like today. That copy there? the dusty red thing with a few smudge marks on it? That was just returned.
Here is a lanky young man with hair hanging in his eyes looking for something new to read]
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her father doesn't like her coming here. neither does gaston, and he tries to chaperone her until she manages to slip away. a princess has duties, they tell her, but she's grown and there are no more lessons, no balls in the middle of the day, and even if she's desperate to escape him, she has a suitor. duties can wait.]
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You! You're the one always stealing my books! Out! Out! -
[Lindsey protests as the proprietor backs him toward the door. At some point in the conversation, he mentions "Returning books" and points...to where the smudged book had been]
I swear I brought it back...
[More yelling. Dirty thief, street rat. Get out. Lindsey looks pained.] ...I'm sorry already!
[This argument is making a lot of noise, and possibly drawing a lot of attention from other shop patrons]
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What's going on?
[she steps out from behind the shelf, straight-backed, staring the owner down.]
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He's a dirty rotten thief! Coming in and borrowing my books when good customers like you are willing to pay for them! I'm calling the constable!
[Lindsey is standing there sullenly. The only thing keeping him from running - the man who has positioned himself to block the door.]
Look at that book - [he points at hers] That cover! That's mud!
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[belle hadn't anticipated being caught in the crossfire. Finger marking her place, she closes the book and holds it up, pointing at the cover - and then back to the front counter. she shakes her head.]
I found it up there. I just assumed it hadn't been shelved - if you want me to put it back, then I will.
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[The younger man shoots her a look - unreadable - before he nods] better keep better track of your inventory old man.
[He turns...and Lindsey snatches one of the other books near the door and runs. The old man too busy griping to see.]
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Wait -
[she lets out a sigh before handing her book back to the owner and taking off after him, surprisingly quick. belle catches up to him easily, but she's out of breath when she reaches out to grab his arm and stop him.]
What are you doing?!
so i rolled a 5.
But on this particular evening, one particular security agent (his name is Dale) is granted an early evening, which means - if he so chooses - free time to mix and mingle. Or just go home.
Of course, even security detail has to have fun once in a while.
And so there he is - standing awkwardly by the punch table, glass perpetually glued to his hand while he observes his surroundings.
Kinda like what he does on the job.
jfc.
Oh, she knows. Truth be told, these formal engagements aren't much to her liking, either; they seem like fun, dancing, drinking - dancing some more until you collapse or the sun rises (whichever comes first). But there's the undercurrent of rigidity that Belle can't escape from, and she feels trapped - constricted. The fresh air outside does little to help.
And so wallflowers? They tend to find one another, apparently. Some kind of secret code, maybe.
you're welcome.
He glances over at the - well, extremely pretty girl - and cracks a slight smile. "Do I?" he asks. "I guess I'm doing a pretty good job fooling myself too."
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She takes advantage of the pause to pour herself a quick drink. The punch is totally not spiked. Except for that it is. Turning around again, she whispers, "Though, I think everyone else here is as bored as you are."
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"I've never really attended one of these things outside of work. Decided to give it a shot. And - well - here I am." He makes a sweeping gesture towards himself.
Oh, he knows it's spiked. And it's rather unfortunate. What he would give for a cup of coffee.
"You must be extremely bored if you've reserved yourself to talking with me," he comments, his eyebrows raising as he takes another sip.
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It'd be rude to simply leave it on the table, though, so she just lets the hand holding the glass hang limply by her side as she turns to him again. "What do you mean, outside of work? What do you do?"
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"I'm in security," he finally replies with another awkward clearing of his throat. "Was... actually... securing tonight's venue. But I managed a get-out-of-work-early card, I guess you can say."
His free hand pulls his coat open a bit, giving the girl a brief look at his shiny badge pinned to his shirt underneath. Just - you know - to make things legit.
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This man's awkward, of course. But he actually seems friendly enough. So, mission accomplished.
"I'm sorry we can't be more entertaining, since you put in all that work," Belle says with a light shrug. Then, she blinks, realizing something she's forgotten: "Oh - I'm sorry. I'm Belle."
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"I knew you looked familiar," he blurts out, his mental filter not exactly catching his words. But he's quick to try and fix his mistake. "Ah - yes. Yes indeed you are. It's wonderful to formally make your acquaintance, Miss Belle."
He goes to extend a hand for a polite shake, then draws his arm back in. Should he be so bold as to shake hands with her? Would that be impolite? Instead, he just settles on a slight bow.
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But for now, Belle humors him, taking the sides of her skirt into her hands before dipping into a bow. "A pleasure to meet you, Mister...?" And an expectant look. Good job on the introductions.
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"Cooper," he replies shortly. "Agent Dale Cooper." Note the Agent. No Misters here, Miss.
And he goes into a somewhat-bow once again. Just to really bury himself in embarrassment. "At your service, Miss."
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But that impressed look is back, and she says, "Well, a pleasure to meet you, Agent." That sounds weird. Back to formalities, she supposes, but she doesn't say anything about it until she rolls her eyes and shakes her head.
"You don't have to bow, you now," she tells him. "I won't tell my father if you don't."
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Cooper rocks back and forth on the heels of his feet, taking another sip of punch from his glass. The last thing he needs is her father knowing he's been impolite. That would be horrid.
And then he's out of punch. Instead of refilling his glass just yet, he sets it down on the table. To keep his hands occupied for the meanwhile, they go in his pockets.
Now he's at a complete loss for words. He's never been alone with a girl of Belle's station before. So he'll just smile hopefully and glance around nervously.
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Hand on her hip, she looks over at him and says, "I don't suppose I should ask you to dance, then, as you're new to this." Granted, the band isn't playing the most spectacular music ever, but one has to admit: it's more exciting than just standing around.
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there was detailing of my secret breakfast date plan here but then you caught on so.
i'm the best investigator js.
or just psychic w/ever
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jfC. did you decide what he's going to lose yet?
he already lost it. you just don't know what it is yet.
oh god when do i get to find out.
right now i guess.