The Beginning’s End: A Condensed Memoir 

I don’t think there’s any speech that could upstage the one Alex just gave here, but I can’t not put my own twist on things. My sentiments are most likely going to be one in the same with hers, however hard I try to vary them, simply because every good thing she listed here applies to my experience as well.

Alex and I chat every night. Every single night, and we have for ages now. We see each other at school during the day, yet still come home and talk ritually. I swear I might even still have the message from when she hinted that a Glee role play (a foreign concept to me at the time, as all I had on tumblr was my personal account) was in need of some characters, namely a Jesse St. James, who she knew was one of my favorites. After some prodding from her and a few delirious decisions from my exam-riddled brain, I wound up applying with some horrendous piece of fanfiction and still to this day wonder how I was accepted with that shit. The theme for my account was equally as awful, and I can’t say that I’m proud of the url, either. My first para was like four sentences and I occasionally have to keep from kicking myself over that. 

Yet in the scheme of things, how sucky I once was cannot even hold a candle in comparison to how much I’ve grown through this role play and the priceless experiences I’ve been through with each and every one of you. As a collective group, you were here when I was the St. Douchebag, screwing up relationships and making friends with ice cream instead of other people. You were here when I fell off horses or was hit with softballs or had sore fingers from violin or was completely over my head in summer assignments. My vacation turned into one of stepping away from having to deal with people and spending my time at this place called The Beginning, but more synonymous with home than anything. From all of those fantastic inside jokes we created in the old OOC Room Does anyone remember crossing out creepy things? to the ups and downs of our characters’ lives and our personal lives, I wouldn’t trade my anti-social tendencies this summer for the world. Although I have to admit, dogsitting and watching at Alex get flustered over having to write smut (especially in my presence) was both social and fantastically hilarious.

I firmly believe that this role play has helped me to foster and take note of my deeper love for English (however yucky this sentimental post seems in the grammatical sense), thus putting me on my desired track for the next few years at least. It’s aided me in realizing that I sometimes need to step away from the books and take a break from those ridiculously long rehearsals, and I’m forever grateful for that. It was here that I met some of my first and greatest internet friends, it was here that you all comforted me when they left without wrod. I have a wonderful real-life family, but what’s the problem with expanding it to include all of you? 

Corinna, Monique, Alex, Veronica, Anna, Anita, and everyone else here have managed to brighten not only my internet life, but my day-to-day one as well. I am eternally thankful for the experiences we’ve shared, the laughs, tears, and overall flailing. I know that all of you were one of Jesse’s anons at one point or another. Eight months have come and gone faster than I could ever have hoped it to (Can you believe that when we started here, there was no “Answer Privately” option or limit on an ask?). Maybe they weren’t the best eight of my personal life. That’s one minute detail in the scheme of how positively amazing my time was here.

With this RP, there’s a little piece of me leaving. It’s not dying in any way. No, a piece of me is cherishing the past and moving on from it, growing up. I started here as a Devlicious, and I leave here as one half of Devrinna. Believe me when I say that I am 100% okay with that, if not ecstatic. There’s no way around the fact that I’m slightly broken up over The Beginning coming full circle, and I could start breaking out the Elton John/Lion King lyrics over it, but I think it will suffice to say that the bittersweet note we play today on February 8th, 2012 is a grand one. I normally say, “Bless your soul” in a comical sense. Today, I deem you all Quinn’s angels and send the best of well wishes your way, whether they be for RP endeavors or personal ones. I know this isn’t as a grand a response as Alex’s; my case is rested, however. Thanks to all, and to all a good night.

Best of regards to you all,

“Hi, I’m Devan, and I play Jesse St. Douche James! It’s nice to meet you.”

Murder Incorporated | Bruce Springsteen 

lesmercredis:

Someone graffitied the entirety of Bohemian Rhapsody on the sidewalk near Strozier. Whoever did this, I applaud you.

Mission: Competition Scope | St. Berry 

• INVOLVED → Rachel Berry, Jesse St. James
• LOCATION  → Rival school’s auditorium
• TIME FRAME → Friday, January 27th, Evening
• AUTHOR’S NOTE → No worries!

Rachel Berry:

Rachel took the time to look everything over, wondering how they even came up with this stuff. Judging from the ‘dollar per person’ entrance fee, they were in desperate need of financial help. Rachel shrugged to herself, maybe if she had actually known some of the contenders she would have happily donated. Her dads were always in on charity, they were very generous people. She placed the thoughts in the back of her mind as she took in her surroundings. Right away she noticed the severity of what she was looking at, the footlights looked as though they were ready to jump in the middle of the stage. And the risers just screamed ‘help’. She shook her head at the sight, sad… but she was not going to let this get to her head. She was going to lead New Directions to a first place trophy, and it was going to be a very memorable moment for her and her Glee club. Because they were going to win out of sheer talent.

Rachel couldn’t help but feel sorry, she wasn’t engulfed in worry for the rival team, but looking at the setting you couldn’t help it. Though, Rachel did know a few people who wouldn’t feel sorry for them, and instead see them as just another team they could easily beat. She instantly thought of Jesse. He was one of the only people she knew who would think that, though it was a good attitude to have when entering show business, she couldn’t help but admire his thrive for success. It was one of the many things they had in common.. most of the time. She knew she could be a little less pushy and dedicated when it came down to her future and doing the right thing. It was in her nature to be helpful in the toughest of times. Though, Rachel would never let anyone see her softest side, unless they were special to her. She would always remain in diva mode around strangers.

Rachel had hoped Jesse wouldn’t notice her, she had hoped he was too engulfed in his hand-out that he wouldn’t look over. She made an attempt to get up, but immediately felt eyes on her. She uncomfortably settled into her seat, preparing herself for the worst reunion. She smiled at his comment. “I’m sure of it, though ‘rejects’ is sort of what you’d call my crowd.” She gestured towards the team, hoping Quinn especially wouldn’t notice her conversing with her boyfriend. Rachel’s mouth dropped, in a sarcastic way. “Hey, figuring I’ll be here for a while, I am going to make the most of it. They don’t have a lot to offer, so I’m going to make the most of what little I have to work with.” Her sarcasm turned into a sweet smile. Though, it was a bit rushed. She didn’t want him thinking she was automatically grateful she sat by him, she was not. If anything, she was worried about what the others might think of it. Though, they didn’t seem to take notice to her absence, as usual.

Jesse St. James:

The amount of times Jesse had been subject to the ridiculous twists and turns life continued to bring forth had leveled off at that point, meaning that he was expecting just about anything to rise from the depths Ohio had to offer and attempt to ruffle his feathers. Yet there was hardly any success rate in the malicious intent of a geographical location aside from the curse he deemed it to be, and there was very little that could shock him. Rachel Berry turning up at a rival’s podunk performance in hopes of either an ego boost or a chance to check out what her own miscreant club would be up against wasn’t one of those gargantuan surprises. It hardly fazed him at all, considering her more recent intent on making amends of their haphazard acquaintanceship. Whether her coming across him here was result of her genuine interest in the other team’s set—highly plausible—or the product of her using whatever ins she had to seek him out.

If the latter was truly the case (He in now way doubted her ability to arrange for a New Directions field trip in order to benefit both herself and them in terms of showing them what they could beat if they put forth effort.), then the irony of the entire situation almost had him barking out a dry laugh at the irony. When it had been his mission to get on decent terms with Rachel after the blowout years prior, she wouldn’t have any of it. Granted she had no reason to trust him then after his move that generally fell under the douchebad category, but it seemed almost cruel of the world, in a way, that now, when he was most focused on himself for once; erasing bitter from his vocabulary and persona. Now, when things finally had begun to ebb their way towards a more acquiescent path, the past was on his doorstep and waiting in the rain. 

If anything, allowing the entity to remain in poorer weather while he warmed the fireplace was the more sensible option. At a time like this, with Nationals nearing, focusing on his sole tasks was imperative. It was time for Jesse St. James to centralize even more than he had previously and work on earning what he deserved, like Rachel had mentioned. The more gracious side of him, however, was preaching about how it was only gentlemanly of him to extend the same courtesy of forgiveness to her as she had hinted at toward giving him. The place and time thankfully afforded him a while longer to sort his thoughts on the matter, as soon he’d be critiquing a performance in the auditorium’s blackness, assuming that the school was even able to afford dimmers for the house lights. “Their lack of activism in the theater world makes it difficult to label them as rejects, per se. Disinterested is more the term I’d go with for most of them,” he said, tipping his head in a nod towards the group behind him. “How very proactive of you. Good luck with getting anything out of this state.” 

-barbrabrachel:

Jesse, stop. You’re going to be the death of me. It’s perfectly okay to have uncertainties about the way you look.

"People are just such idiots, you know?"  - Quinn Fabray

I know, I can’t believe my Sunday evening has been reduced to this either. Entertain me. 

fuckyeahsurveys:

1. Had sex?
2. Bought condoms?
3. Gotten pregnant?
4. Failed a class?
5. Kissed a boy?
6. Kissed a girl?
7. Used a little paper bag for lunch?
8. Had a job?
9. Slipped on ice?
10. Missed the school bus?
11. Left the house without my wallet?
12. Bullied someone on the internet?
13. Sexted?
14. Had sex in public?
15. Played on a sports team?

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wombatfractal:

I took the drums and guitar off of Don’t Stop Me Now so you could appreciate the vocal work of Freddy Mercury in a more stripped down context

Mission: Competition Scope | St. Berry 

• INVOLVED → Rachel Berry, Jesse St. James
• LOCATION  → Rival school’s auditorium
• TIME FRAME → Friday, January 27th, Evening
• AUTHOR’S NOTE → Oh my, thank you. You’re wonderful. That’ll do just fine, I’m sure! I’m sorry for the wait, I was out this morning for a bit.

Rachel Berry:

Rachel had been pacing around her room. She was about to break, wasn’t she? This was her life, getting that acceptance letter from NYADA. She needed it, desperately. People had always tried to convince her it was just a letter, but Rachel ignored them. This was so much more than just, a simple letter. This was her future, she needed this for Broadway. And, nothing and nobody would ever be able to get in Rachel’s perfected vision, of standing on that stage, belting out ‘Don’t Cry For Me Argentina’ for a more than accepting crowd. One day, everyone would come to terms with her inexplicable talent, and they would all faint at the sight of her simply walking in the room. She was going to be one of the most famous women on Broadway, she was sure to be someone’s idol. Hopefully, as important as Patti Lupone, or Barbra Streisand.

Rachel just flopped down on her bed, she was going to die waiting for that wretched letter. Rachel’s oh-so sensitive hearing, automatically picked up the faint sound of her phone vibrating against the wooden desk carefully placed in the front of her room, she got up and saw it was a message from ND, saying she was needed. Of course, she was more than happy with their decision to check out their competition. It was something needed, mostly for personal reasons. Rachel wanted to get these thoughts of a horrid future out of her mind at once. Though, she was planning on spending the evening engulfed in Funny Girl, and nothing more, nothing less. But her team priorities would always be put ahead of her less important events.

As soon as the brunette arrived in the auditorium, wearing a seemingly bright yellow dress and her usual favorite pair of Mary-Janes, she waited for her fellow classmates to sit down. Staying behind for a bit to grab a program, and looking it over. They were singing some pretty decent, though old songs. Herself, being herself, would have lowered the tone of the songs. You never wanted to baffle an audience right away, you save the best reactions for last. Most people didn’t understand this logic, though. Rachel noticed she was standing there now, for a longer amount of time than she had hoped. Heading into a random row she quietly sat down, squirming and trying to make herself comfortable in the obvious worn-out seats. She wondered what the school budget was. Judging from the looks of things, they were on a pretty tight one. Rachel’s stomach twisted, showing off the faintest feeling of guilt. She wasn’t going to let it get to her, New Directions needed to win this year, and Rachel was going to make sure they were going to. 

The small girl began to think, about Glee club situations, and how hard she knew it could get, and be. New Directions had had their fair share of problems, and that was probably the same story with every other Glee club in the United States. Pity party’s were a known strategy for most. Though, Rachel hated them. It was seen as cheating to her. Getting led to the top because people felt bad for you, it showed you obviously had no talent at all. Rachel scoffed at the thought of someone actually going down that path, thinking it would get them into a decent college, or on Broadway. Rachel cleared her throat, trying to give a hint to the guy sitting next to her she was about to talk, he too had been looking at his program. She bit her bottom lip out of habit. “Any idea who anyone here is?” She looked up from her pamphlet, looking at him. Letting out the smallest of gasps once she saw the familiar face. She had unknowingly sat by Jesse St. James. 

Jesse St. James:

Years of experience led Jesse to cast his technical eye over everything before him, taking into stock small details, like the footlights on the stage, as well as more noticeable issues that a show choir of renown would have been sure to avoid, such as the unsafe distance the risers were placed from the backdrop. It appeared that the rival group—they called themselves Notoriety, which was ironic in itself—had little to know tech crew working on their side, as that was something that anyone could take a look at from the booth and radio to have fixed. This was the short version of the full critique impending after the performance, ready to be relayed in detail to Shelby, who would then pull off her usual tricks and find footage to threaten her group with. Their more appreciable qualities would be displayed, and then Vocal Adrenaline would rehearse until it was absolutely clear that they were superior.

It still baffled him that any form of the arts, be it a symphony or show choir alike, could receive such little support from the community around them. In the economic crisis everyone near and far was feeling (or so he’d heard), there was dirt cheap entertainment being put on throughout high schools. While its quality may not rival that of a professional show, there was effort behind it. As he’d thought before, the purchase of a few tickets may mean better costumes or a new music stand to the program. The lack of support from the greater Ohio area for the arts was almost appalling when he took the time to think it over, having grown with the rarity of Carmel High School’s afforded affiliations with the arts. Rather than being subject to a reality of the horror stories he had heard time and time again from schools like McKinley, Vocal Adrenaline was considered their alma mater’s must-see event, selling more tickets than the Varsity football or soccer teams. The concept of fundraising was entirely laughable, but there wasn’t a doubt that Notoriety was in serious need of some.

Given what he’d seen thus far, there was no reason he shouldn’t expect costumes of less grandeur than he was used to wearing and dancing around. While appearance wasn’t a perfect indicator of the performance to come, it sufficed in giving him a decent idea of how underwhelmed he would be. Still, he had the decency to accept that maybe some of Notoriety’s members might be able to to pull the assumed doomed set out from shambles. Leafing through the clearly student made program handed to him at the door by a decidedly bored parent, he came across a few familiar faces, having met them through auditions or community theater productions, but never paying them much mind. Making friends with the person going for the same role as him was in no way wise, and he didn’t want to deal with any hard feelings when he ultimately snagged the part.

Talent was something Vocal Adrenaline simply had, being the product of a more populated high school in a more well off area than most. They were funded through checks signed by wealthy business owners looking to get their name on a plaque for their charity while keeping their sons and daughters out of trouble by keeping their rigorous extracurricular activities afloat. All if required was the production of a benefit concert by the show choir, and they’d get their recognition and handing over another large sum of money. Their being so privileged was envied by other clubs, of course, but in a way, it seemed logical that Vocal Adrenaline earned through their stellar performances and high success rate. A small voice next to him pulled his focus and he disinterestedly answered, “One or two, but I only know them as rejects from my extensive career with Carmel’s Community Theater. I’m sure you’ll be wishing you didn’t know them by the time this is said and done.” After speaking, he took the courtesy to close his program and figure out exactly who it was that was so interested. Upon recognizing none other than Rachel Berry, he let out a disbelieving laugh. “I should have known you’d spend your spare time feeding off of everything Ohio’s show choir industry has to offer.”