#there is not a single heterosexual cell in my body | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ivanaskye · 4 years

Text

I’ve been thinking about making this post for a while, since I finished reading Wheel of Time, a series whose first book I read many years ago and hated, a series which ended up being very much one of my favorite of all time if not my single favorite, a series that has my two favorite characters ever.

A series that is very flawed.

So behold, my long answer to the question...

Should you read The Wheel of Time?

I’ll split this into three sections (but not three posts): What Even Is The Wheel Of Time, Some Likely Dealbreakers, and Tl;Dr.

Under the readmore, of course.

1. What Even Is The Wheel of Time?

A system of circular time in which the same rough eras of humanity repeat

However, the fact that time in the series operates this way... doesn’t actually matter that much.

And out of seven total repeating ages, we only spend time in one, and only know anything at all about four others.

The last three? A mystery

Don’t worry about it

Okay, that’s probably not what you were asking. You were probably asking something more like: what’s the plot of this series?

Let me be straight with you about that one.

It’s a Chosen One plot.

But,

It also has a very large cast of characters, many of which are very Protagonist in their own right

Including the main character’s immediate foil, who is absolutely not a “Chosen One” except for the fact that she freaking chose herself, basically manufacturing her own call to adventure out of the main character’s.

The six Most Main characters (by most fans’ understanding), can IMO be divided exactly into three foil-pairs: the Central Saving The World one, the Self Awareness Whomst? I Hate People Of Course I’d Never Help Anyone (Trips over 139289131 Pictures of Helping Other People) one, and the Study In Leadership one.

And remember that Chosen One I mentioned?

Yeah, he actually has a shit deal with being Chosen

Specifically: he is 100% prophecized to destroy the world. Whether he also saves it is a little more up in the air.

He’s also almost certainly fated to Go Insane.

(...Which is why the first ~3 books of the series are just him Running Away From His Fate at Full Speed, which--spoiler alert--Does Not Work.)

See also: Alienating All Your Friends 101, How NOT To Accept Being Polyamorous, It’s War Crimes Time

(Yes, there is canon polyamory.)

(...And a LOT of canon war crimes.)

But. In order to go any further, I have to talk about the Possible Dealbreakers of these series.

2. So, About Those Dealbreakers

Broadly speaking, I’d say there are three: length, The Gender Binary, and Oh God Why Is Everyone Such A Dumbass.

Let’s go at these one-by-one.

Length

Let me be very clear here: WoT is over four million words long in total.

This has at times been calculated as perhaps the longest word count for any series... ever? It’s certainly one of the longest English-language series that occurs to random statistics geeks to look at the word count of.

For reference, in case you needed it... that’s longer than Homestuck. This is true even if you translate images, videos, and so on into equivalent word counts. And include the epilogue. And... yeah.

It’s like, shonen-long.

The upside of this, however... is that it’s really long.

That might seem like a weird upside, but if you’ve ever wanted to get really immersed in a series... especially if you read very quickly and usually get through things fast... well.

To put things in perspective, I often read 300-page books in one sitting without trouble. WoT took me about six months.

So uh

Do you want your life, mind, body, and soul to get eaten by a book series?

The answer to that question will probably tell you if you should read Wheel of Time

The Gender Binary

Okay, so here’s the thing: in the time period WoT takes place in, only women can use The One Power (the main form of magic in the setting).

The reason for this is that the One Power, despite being called one right there in the name, is divided into the Female Version and the Male Version. Only women can use the former, only men can use the latter. And the latter has been tainted such that any man who uses it goes mad.

Our main character is a man who can use the power.

The upside is that things actually go very un-sexistly from here. The different ways to access male (saidin) vs female (saidar) power don’t actually correlate to any consistent difference in personality or attitudes between men and women.

The fact that the MC is The One Man Using The Power and The Most Powerful, Because Chosen One... is actually also played shockingly un-sexistly.

However, there very much always is that binary. Trans people? Nonbinary people? Uh... you can headcanon if you want, but the canon is not giving you that much to work with.

To make matters a little worse, men and women distrust each other to an almost hilarious amount in the setting. (My guess is something about Mostly A Patriarchy + Women Are The Mysterious Powerful Magic Users has really frayed gender relations in this society.) There are many, many in-character statements of “All men are [x unflattering thing]” “all women are [y unflattering thing]”, but these do not seem to in any way reflect the author’s beliefs, and are never actually true in-world; the characters are just Bad At This.

(A common example of this is “Women are all gossips!” *cut to a group of women* “Men are all gossips!”. Of course, the truth is that there are both male and female gossips and non-gossips in the series).

You would think this situation would lead to more just-women and just-men groups, but except from Magic-User Stuff, there isn’t that much of that, becaaaaause

~Heterosexuality~

Sigh, yes, this series is very het.

It’s not as het as it is binary; the Aes Sedai (female magic users) have a word for women who are having sex with each other, and there’s an onpage FF kiss in the prequel.

But it’s... not a lot.

So if you need a hit of sweet, sweet LGBTQ rep, it’s... not going to be here. Sorry. (Thankfully, a very large amount of fantasy books coming out today do have rep! It’s not that hard to find!)

Thankfully, most of WoT’s het romances are pretty good and believable/shippable. Though not all are.

And, the final likely dealbreaker...

Everyone Here Is A Dumbass

Listen. Nobody in this series drank their Having Brain Cells juice, uh... ever.

(Okay, exactly two characters--Min and Loial--did, but that’s it)

You know how I was talking about the gender mistrust? That’s just one example of an endemic problem of absolutely no one trusting other people, telling anyone things, or in any way having functional conversations

Min Literally Saves Lives By Being The Only Person Who Tells People Things

In addition to interpersonal problems, the characters’ problem-solving skills are uhh

Uhhhhhh

Uhhhhhhhh

Well, as I said, Rand, our main character, spends three books running away from his problems at full speed

After that, he’s only uh... dodging! Jogging away! Yeah

Meanwhile, basically everyone is doing the I Must Put Myself In Extreme Danger To Protect My Friends Who I would Never Accept Doing The Same (bonus points for when two people are doing this to protect each other at the same time) thing

And I Will Face God And Run Into Danger At Mach Speed

The upside is... you might like reading about these kinds of characters

But if you prefer characters who are not walking trash fires

Then I’m sorry

WoT is probably not for you

3. Tl;dr

In summary, Wheel of Time is an almost comically long series about a large cast of characters who have never functioned in their life trying to prevent the end of the world and having a really bad time.

(For some reason it doesn’t have a reputation as a Dark SeriesTM, but it actually is very dark at times. Although far from grim--every action seems to really matter, nothing is meaningless, it’s just that sometimes those actions are war crimes and people dying and a shit-ton of torture).

IMO, some of the other series that might be good predictors for liking WoT are Homestuck, Hunter X Hunter, and ASOIAF. In other words, other very long, large-casted series about trash fires.

If you want one other bit of enticement, the main character has the lowest nadir of any character arc I’ve ever seen, followed by the most impressive high and resolution. So if that’s your kind of thing, and if the dealbreakers don’t break your deals. Go ahead and give it a try.

#wot #wheel of time

232 notes · View notes

enkelimagnus · 3 years

Text

Literature

Bucky Barnes Gen, 1756 words, rated T for Hydra shit

Jewish Bucky Barnes, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: Episode 3 Power Broker

Sam falls asleep on the plane over to Madripoor and leaves Bucky and Zemo alone. They actually talk to each other. I would say it's nice.

TW: brief allusion to past rape, internalized homophobia, brief mention of the holocaust

Read on AO3

Part 20 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

--------------

It’s an eleven hour flight from Berlin to Madripoor, even with Zemo’s private jet. Once drinks have been served, food has been eaten and threats have been made, they all find themselves settling.

Sam has dozed off on a seat, seemingly exhausted. After all, they’ve already travelled the eight hours from the states, and the day has been stressful at best. At least, Sam trusts him enough to fall asleep while Bucky watches Zemo. He wasn’t expecting that. Or perhaps his human physiology is betraying him.

Bucky needs less sleep than a normal human on regular days, and he also can survive much longer sleep deprived. He’s well aware of the limitations of his body. Hydra tested them thoroughly and multiple times. Zemo would know as well, that Bucky might look tired but it doesn’t diminish his abilities as much as it seems.

The man in question is at his seat with his book, though he’s regularly looking up through the windows of the plane or around the cabin. There’s something quiet and wistful about the way he stares at a spot where the carpeting is not perfectly set against the wall to the bathroom.

The silence is good, especially after earlier, where Sam and Zemo somehow managed to gang up on him about Marvin Gaye of all people.

It’s not that Bucky doesn’t like Marvin Gaye. He just doesn’t like much music. He’s sort of lost the taste for it. His brain is usually unable to perceive it as anything but unnecessary noise that keeps him from being completely aware of his surroundings. And at least 40s music doesn’t have death and rape associated to it.

And he doesn’t need to know what Steve thought of it, whether Steve loved it or not. He’s not Steve. Steve journeyed light into the 21st century. Everything was something new to learn and experience, it was exciting and bright. Bucky is travelling with baggage. And he has memories attached to songs and tastes and sensations and events.

Bucky simply can’t use the notebook the way Steve did.

Sometimes, he wonders if Sam forgets Bucky wasn’t simply on ice for 80 years. The issue with him is that he lived through most of it, and it was all torture.

Or maybe not all . He woke up craving Karpov’s kasha the other week, and it makes no sense. He only tasted it during one specific time of his life, when Karpov and him got stuck in a safehouse in the snow, with no way to reach the outside world, for two weeks. The Soldier’s rations and formulas ran out long before they were able to leave. Karpov was too smart to let him starve, and perhaps that time alone with the Soldier, away from the world, with no way to freeze him or unplug him had made him see he was still a man. The kasha was warm, and thick, and sweet and sometimes, Bucky remembers that feeling and craves it.

The danger with people like him, America’s Super Soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals.

Zemo’s right.

In all honesty, Bucky believes he’s forgotten who Steve really was.

Memories become blurry when they age and no matter how desperate Bucky is to crystalize them, to remember them, to be sure of what he lived, all he manages to do is to frame faded photographs and fill in the blanks himself.

Steve and him didn’t have time. He found him after two years of searching, only for Bucky to be back on ice within two weeks. After that, Steve visited a few times during his recovery, when he introduced him to the goats he’d named after the sisters he finally remembered. And then, there was the War, and the Snap and once Bucky was back to life, Steve was shattered. And two weeks later, he was gone.

They didn’t have time to learn each other again. Bucky doesn’t know who Steve is anymore, half of his memories feel tainted by Smithsonian explanations, and he hates it so fucking much.

He hates that he can’t remember right, he hates that Steve’s slipping away from him every second of every day, that all that is left is the fucking shield and Captain America. That Steve’s legacy doesn’t seem to run deeper than that, else Bucky would have less of a single-minded focus on that fucking piece of useless fucking metal.

It’s only been three months. Why does Steve feel like he’s been gone for a lifetime?

Bucky breathes out a shuddering breath.

When his eyes focus again, Zemo is staring at him.

The book is open on his lap. Bucky can read the title. Same Sex Fantasies in Heterosexuals. Fucking hell. He doesn’t need that right now. At all.

“You’re a different man than the one I remember,” Zemo says quietly after a moment. His voice is soft, just slightly above a whisper. He knows Bucky has sharp ears. He knows he doesn’t need to wake Sam up.

Bucky dignifies that with a huff and looks away for a moment. Zemo’s eyes don’t leave him. He can feel them on him, on his face, on his throat, on his hands, on his body. They make him itch. They make him want to punch him for looking at him like that.

Like what?

You know exactly like what.

When Bucky looks back, Zemo’s indeed still watching him.

“You’re old now,” Bucky says eventually, in a vague answer to what Zemo said earlier.

“Eight years have passed, James. You cannot blame a normal man for something he has no control over.”

Eight years. So Bucky was right. Zemo wasn’t dusted. He stayed in that solitary confinement cell for eight years as the world moved on around him, as the world fought and lost half of its people.

Had he wished to be one of the ones that were snapped out of existence? Probably. After all, every second Zemo breathes and exists is a second more he wasn’t supposed to have. He tried to kill himself in Siberia, once his mission was over.

“Do you ever read normal stuff?” Bucky asks, a bite in his words.

Zemo raises an eyebrow, head tilting slightly to the side. His eyes are still glued to Bucky’s face. He still wants to punch him.

“I would need you to define ‘normal stuff’ to answer this question.” There is a hint of mirth in those brown eyes though. He knows exactly what Bucky means.

Bucky huffs and rolls his eyes. “Machiavelli, fucking… whatever this shit is,” he makes a motion of his chin towards the book. It’s in German, something about boundaries in relationships. Hilarious, really. It’s not like Zemo has anyone to set boundaries with. Unless those eight years of solitary have somehow driven a rift between Zemo and his own dick. “That’s not normal stuff. Novels, popular stuff…”

“I wonder,” Zemo starts. “Have you any recommendations for titles of ‘popular stuff’ for me?”

Everything Bucky can think of is old. He’d told himself he’d look into acquiring books but… he hadn’t had the time or the energy.

“I see your taste in literature has elected to stay with your taste in music, then.”

Fucking ass. Bucky closes his eyes and sighs so heavily he’s pretty sure Sam’s going to wake up.

“To answer your question, James,” Zemo starts, conversationally, as if they aren’t enemies, as if they are just old friends, so old they have become strangers. “I do read normal stuff.” The phrasing is foreign in his mouth, in that accented voice of his. “I’ve read all the classics, and children’s literature. Eight years are long. I practiced my Russian with translations of Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings at first.”

Bucky hums, looking up at him for a moment. “I noticed your pronunciation had changed,” he says quietly. “Did you read it to yourself out loud? Pretended someone was telling you a story?”

It’s cheap. They’re both aware of how lonely the past eight years must have been. It’s cheap, and it’s low-hanging and Bucky almost feels guilty.

Zemo’s small smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Have you read Jules Verne?” Bucky asks, trying to erase his taunt with some more literary conversation. “Was obsessed with his work as a kid. Kinda like Tolkien, but even better because it was… full of invention, not of magic.”

There’s a floating moment, a few seconds of Zemo just watching him with that slight sadness in his eyes before it is washed away and replaced by a hum.

“I’ve read those books, yes. In the original French,” Zemo points out and Bucky is almost grateful for the boasting. “You should seek a new translation, if you’re not adept at the original language. The one I assume you read was a descendant of 1870 translations, riddled with errors and political censorship. They fixed that in the 60s. You’ll like the new ones better.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “I’ll take that under consideration, I guess.” He’s so sure he’ll like it.

“And if you find yourself in the north of France one of these days, you should stop by this little city called Amiens,” Zemo continues. “A fine place, old and new, in the way only Europe can be. Jules Verne died there. The city’s positively themed after the man and his work. You can even visit his house.”

Visiting a dead man’s last residence? “That’s kinda morbid,” he mutters and Zemo has a small chuckle.

“People visit Anne Frank’s house as if the walls aren’t hollowed with fear,” he points out. “Dying makes one the public’s intimate friend. You know that better than anyone else.” He gives Bucky a sidelong glance. They both know he’s talking about Steve, and the documentaries and exhibits and think-pieces.

Bucky nods quietly and looks back through the window. The sun is painted indigo and pink. It’s beautiful. He’s forgotten the sunset could be this beautiful.

When he looks at Zemo again, he notices the exhaustion written all over his face, in the small wrinkles and under eye bags and the way his eyes won’t settle on anything for too long, desperate to stay awake.

“I’m not gonna kill you,” Bucky says after a moment. “We need you.”

Zemo chuckles tiredly, a soft and muted sound. “If that is the one thing that is keeping me alive… I believe I shall keep myself useful, then.” It’s almost sarcastic. A man living on borrowed time, wishing desperately he could be executed.

“You do that.”

#bucky barnes #helmut zemo #fatws #jewish bucky barnes #mine #fic

2 notes · View notes

birthofvcnus · 4 years

Text

there is not a single heterosexual cell in my body thank u for ur time

#jamie #park jamie #park jimin #jamie park #jimin park #BRO 😭😭😭😭😭 i remember seeing her on asc w eric nam she was so cute

56 notes · View notes

jovialyouthmusic · 4 years

Text

Special Delivery

I get ready to move house, and confide in a friend about my new admirer.

Word Count 2790

A/N This is not my garden or my house, much as I would like to share them. Just allow me some artistic licence - after all, the ‘me’ in this story is younger and single (can I take a few pounds off too?) I don’t even seem to have written any fanfic in this fantasy. This is pure self indulgence, some fluff and a few tears are shed. Again, no allowances made for British references, if anything puzzles you let me know.

Warning - mention of the death of a parent. Get the tissues ready, sorry.

4 Ready to Move

‘Hi Martin – are you going over to my place this afternoon?’ I rang my close friend to spring the news of my new helper on him the next day. We had known each other for a long time and had shared a lot of confidences over the years. He was just going through a rocky patch in his relationship and was glad of the chance to get away from his partner, even though she would probably accuse him of sleeping with me when he got home.

‘Sure thing Lisa, I know that garden needs some knocking into place.’ He said in a tone that told me his partner was listening.

‘Martin, I need to tell you something.’

‘I’m sorry, I have to go out to the shops. I’ll talk to you later.’ he said, which was code for I’ll call you when Sue isn’t listening. I acknowledged his message, went back to clearing my wardrobe and waited for him to call back.

‘Hey Lisa, what’s the goss?’ He said as I answered a few minutes later ‘Sue’s really on my back so you’d better make it quick.’

‘I uh – I seem to have acquired an admirer – or a brother, I’m not sure which.’

‘Ooh.’ he said ‘Is he good looking? If you’re not sure if he’s an admirer or a brother, he’s gay.’

‘You always say that. According to you every man on the face of the earth apart from you is gay.’

‘Not true, just the good looking ones. Don’t get your hopes up, Lisa. I don’t want to see you hurt.’

‘Well anyway, if you come over to do some gardening you’ll meet him. I daren’t trust myself with him, he’s not only devastatingly handsome, he’s got a killer accent and he’s really sweet and kind.’

‘Gay.’ Martin asserted ‘So you don’t have to worry – but I might.’

‘Martin – pleeeease.’ I pleaded. ‘Come and tell me what you think.’

‘Okay, but you know I’m going to rip him to pieces.’ he asserted ‘Not literally, only behind his back.’

‘Thanks – I owe you. Coffee and cake sometime.’

‘Sure thing. Don’t worry, I’ll be there to chaperone you. Your virtue will remain unsullied.’

‘I sullied my virtue a long time ago.’ I scoffed.

‘Yeah, so you told me. Gotta go, see you later!’

-------

As promised, Fabio rang before he turned up, just after noon. I was already knee deep in boxes, deciding that if I worked on my bedroom first, we wouldn’t be working in it together and my mind wouldn’t keep straying in the wrong direction. I had lain awake for a while that night, telling myself over and over that Fabio was just a nice guy and it wasn’t leading anywhere. My dreams told me otherwise, and I woke in a cold sweat, almost expecting to see his head on the pillow beside me, but the weight I felt on my hip was the cat stretched out fast asleep. He grumbled as I moved, then settled in the crook of my knees instead, heavy and warm.

‘Hola, Lisa.’ Fabio said as he came in the door, and I remembered to turn my head slightly for the cheek kiss to ensure that his lips didn’t land anywhere that might give me ideas as to what else we could do together that afternoon.

‘Hi Fabio, thanks for coming.’ I greeted him. He looked at the empty boxes sitting by the bookcase, lifting his chin and nodding toward them.

‘Those will be heavy. I will pack them for you – you want them moved today?’

‘It would help keep the work down for the removal men. Anything that can go in a box, you can pack. I just want to keep a few things in the kitchen so I can make tea and a simple meal, but if we get a lot done I can always stay at the new place. There’s already some furniture of Mum’s there, it’s not so much a move as a reorganisation. I haven’t decided whether to rent furnished or empty.’

‘How about upstairs?’ he asked ‘I can carry heavy things down.’ He was already half way up the stairs, taking them two at a time with his long legs. I trailed after him, hovering anxiously on the tiny landing outside my bedroom as he looked around.

‘No, it’s okay.’ I said, my cheeks burning ‘I’ve already sorted the bedroom and I still need to sleep here.’

‘Lo seinto – I’m sorry Lisa.’ he replied, but in stepping out of the room we came very close to each other - close enough to smell his aftershave, which was becoming a familiar scent that made my tummy churn. Quickly I moved to the spare room, which was small and cluttered with a little foldaway bed, but I had some empty boxes standing ready.

‘Nothing in here is too important. It’s just clothes and - well junk mostly. A lot of this stuff should really go to the dump.’ He looked puzzled again. ‘It’s rubbish, I need to get rid of it’

‘Okay, you find what you don’t want, and I go down and pack books.’ he suggested. After an hour or so I had some boxes and bags to go to the dump, and went down to see what my helper was doing. He had emptied the bookcases and stacked the boxes by the door.

‘Do you want a drink?’ I asked ‘We could have tea or coffee and then load the car.’

‘Tea of course, I play at being English.’ he smiled, exaggerating the word in what he thought was an English accent. I laughed and we sat talking for a while as we drank, then loaded the car and drove off to the council dump. It wasn’t far, and thankfully not too busy – we drove straight in and started to unload the bags and boxes. The council was pretty hot on recycling, so I’d arranged things into separate bags – clothes, shoes, books, electronic gear, and stuff that was just rubbish. When we got back to the house I got Fabio to carry boxes down from the spare room, and again we loaded the car, this time to go to my new house.

‘I’ve asked another friend to do some gardening for me, he should be there now.’ I explained.

Before long we drew onto the drive, where I noted that my friend Martin’s car was already parked up and I heard the whirr of the lawn mower. I backed up close to the house so we could unload. Fabricio stared at the little white house with the pointed roof, the front half of the garden taken up by mature trees. Martin came across to the car, wiping his brow.

‘Lisa!’ he greeted me, and came up to embrace me. He looked askance at Fabio, but the two men shook hands amicably.

‘Martin – this is Fabio. He’s from Argentina, and he uh – he brought me pizza a couple of nights ago, and he’s offered to help me move.’ I hoped that was enough of an explanation for now – I knew that I’d be going into detail as soon as we were alone.

‘Pleased to meet you, Fabio.’ he said ‘It’s kind of you to help Lisa.’

‘She also has been kind.’ he smiled ‘We went for a walk yesterday’ Martin raised his eyebrows at me, his sideways glance telling me he thought I was mad. I went to unlock the door and showed Fabio where to put the boxes, and once he had started, Martin grabbed me and pulled me to a corner of the garden where we couldn’t be seen. He demanded an explanation and I gave him a quick summary.

‘Are you insane, Lisa?’ he hissed. ‘Never mind him taking your virtue, this man is a complete stranger. He could be a serial killer. I could be answering awkward questions in a police cell as your body sits in the morgue and he jets off back to Argentina.’

‘Don’t be so dramatic. He’s kind and sweet, and…’

‘And so good looking I’d fall for him myself if I wasn’t a red blooded one hundred percent heterosexual.’ He scolded, waving his arms. He took a deep breath ‘you can’t trust him. Lookers like that do what they like with people.’

‘Whatever happened to ‘he’s gay’?’ I asked. Martin grimaced.

‘He could have anyone he likes, he probably swings both ways. He’s probably got some STD. Drop him Lisa, drop him like a hot thing’

‘Gah, I knew I shouldn’t have asked you’ I grumbled ‘Go back to mowing the lawn, I’m helping Fabio.’ I started back toward the house.

‘What kind of name is Fabio?’ he gesticulated. ‘He’s trouble, Lisa, and don’t forget I said so.’

‘You’re jaded and cynical.’ I hissed. He looked sheepish.

‘I’m sorry Lisa, maybe I’m going over the top. I can see you’re determined to carry on with him. Just promise you’ll be careful’ he pleaded.

‘Careful is my middle name, that’s why I’m single.’ I snapped back. I could see Fabio taking another box into the house, and followed him. ‘I deserve a little excitement for once.’ I threw over my shoulder. But walking out in the Lakes and introducing Fabio to fish and chips wasn’t very exciting, I realised.

But Fabio was exciting, and it was the principle of the matter.

--------

Martin was called back home before Fabio had finished, and I walked through the house going over the pieces of furniture I wanted to keep and those I wanted moved back to the terraced house. I’d already cleared through the whole place throwing out unwanted junk and selling other pieces. I made a list as I went, and Fabio went outside to get some fresh air. I stopped in the downstairs bedroom, where I had found my mother only a few months ago. I found tears starting to my eyes, and I tried to blink them away as Fabio called from the kitchen as he came in again.

‘I can make tea.’ he shouted, but I couldn’t answer as my throat was tight and it was hard to breathe for the sob that threatened to bubble up. Suddenly he was in the doorway as I stood stock still staring at where the bed had been.

‘Do you want any…’ he started, and his voice faded as he caught sight of me. I made a superhuman effort to pull myself together, but failed spectacularly as my voice turned to an unintelligible squeak and the sob escaped at last. In an instant he was holding me against his broad chest, arms wrapped around me, gently pulling my head into his shoulder. I melted into him and let go, allowing the tears to flow. I had only cried once, at the funeral, and standing in her old room just brought it all back.

‘Shhh.’ he said soothingly. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay.’ He felt so solid – so safe.

‘I – I’m so – sorry.’ I blubbered. ‘This was her room. I found her…’ He rubbed my back soothingly.

‘Is okay to cry, you don’t have to be sorry.’

‘I thought I’d got over it.’ I sniffled after a while, when the tears and sobs had subsided.

‘It takes time. Perhaps we go back to the other house?’

‘I – I need to gather myself together.’ I said as he let me go to pick up a box of tissues that was on the windowsill. That almost made me start again, as it was the brand she used all the time, and had probably bought herself when I had taken her on her weekly shopping trips. I wondered how I would cope living in the house with so many memories. I blew my nose and mopped at my eyes. I laughed as he stood protectively watching me. ‘I must look a sight. Your shirt is wet - and slobbery, sorry.’ I held the box of tissues out to him.

‘It doesn’t matter.’ he reassured me, taking one and dabbing at his shirt. ‘Is sad that your mother died, but she wouldn’t want you to be unhappy’ I laughed again, blowing my nose.

‘She always said we should just have a big party when she’d gone.’

‘And did you?’

‘Just a little one, a sort of reception.’

‘Then perhaps you should have a party when you move in’ he smiled ‘We also had a big party when mi abuelo – my mother’s father passed away.’

‘That’s a nice idea. Did you mention tea? Perhaps I’ll feel better when I’ve had some.’ He took my hand and lead me to the kitchen so I could show him where everything was.

‘There’s a packet of biscuits in the cupboard.’ I pointed. He reached in and got out the chocolate biscuits. Tea made and biscuits on a plate, we took them outside where a table and two chairs were set up under the apple tree.

‘I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve made the right decision.’ I mused as I sipped my tea. He nodded and waited me for me to go on. ‘This is a bigger house, and I’m on my own. The other one is smaller, but it’s close to the shops and cheaper to run. I need a car to live here’

‘How long since your mother die?’ he asked.

‘Six months.’ I replied.

‘Is not very long.’ he said ‘you can…’ he paused and corrected himself ‘Can you change where you stay?’

‘At the moment, yes.’ I replied ‘I can live in either place. It’s a difficult decision.’ I looked around ‘This place would be better for a family.’

‘You don’t want to have children?’ he asked. I shrugged.

‘I’m single, it’s not the sort of decision I can make right now.’

‘If you could, would you?’ I smiled.

‘It would depend on my partner’ I replied ‘With the right one, yes.’ He smiled ruefully.

‘I am the only single one in my family.’ he said ‘Mi madre - always she say ‘when are you getting a girlfriend? When will you marry?’ He swirled the tea in his cup and gazed at it. ‘The right person – I never find her. I’m always travelling.’ His phone beeped and he took it out to look at it. ‘I need to get back and get ready for work. You are okay to take me? I can call a taxi.’

‘I’ll be fine to drive. Thankyou so much for helping – and I’m sorry I cried on you.’

‘Is okay, I’m glad I can help.’ He said gently. ‘And tomorrow?’ He asked.

‘I think I need some time to think things over, and I’ve moved most things now.’ His face dropped a little.

‘Okay, but you call me if you need – someone to talk to?’

‘Thankyou. I promise I’ll call you if I need anything.’

‘If you like, we can go out and eat.’ he said gently ‘I like to take you out, you don’t have to worry about what house to be in.’

‘That would be nice, thankyou.’ I got up and picked up the empty cups, taking them to wash up before I locked the house up.

‘Where will you stay tonight?’ he asked as we drove back into town.

‘The town house, I’ve still got Ginger to look after. It won’t be easy getting him used to his new home, though he’ll probably love the garden.’

‘He will be fine.’ he reassured me ‘Okay, you drop me at my flat please.’ We drove the rest of the short way in silence, and I felt a sense of loss as I parked on his street. He turned to me and looked me in the eye, his face full of concern.

‘Are you alright now? He asked, and I nodded ‘I hope you find out what to do. Remember, call me if you need. We can go out soon, yes?’ I nodded.

‘If I don’t call you tomorrow, I will the day after. Thankyou Fabio’ He leaned across and kissed me on the cheek again, but this time he drew back a little and looked searchingly into my eyes again. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

‘I’d like to be more than a brother.’ he said quietly, brushing my cheek with the back of his hand. I managed a tiny nod and a weak smile, but couldn’t speak. He paused for a beat longer then got out of the car, leaving me to pull my wits about me and drive home.

17 notes · View notes

raptured-night · 4 years

Note

Hi! I’m part of the lgbtq+ community and Severus is my favorite HP character and I was wondering (if you have the time and feel obliged) if you could please give me a few examples of how he’s queer? It’s been a few years since I reread the books, and def before I came out, so I’m a little in the dark here lol Thanks!!

First of all, I just wanted to apologize for how long it has taken me to properly respond to your ask. I’ve been dealing with some ongoing health issues that have turned me into something of a moody writer. I’ll get random spurts of energy and inspiration and then hit a wall of absolute writer’s block assisted by a major case of executive dysfunction every single time I try to respond to the multiple asks languishing in my inbox. Fortunately, I found myself involved in a discussion just today that addressed your ask so perfectly that I wanted to share it with you. In the very least, that discussion has also managed to shake off my writer’s block temporarily so that I have found myself in the right head-space to finally be able to give this lovely ask the thought and attention that I feel it deserves.

Although, in regards to the Snape discourse I linked above, I feel that I should warn you in advance that the discussion was prompted by an anti-Snape poster who made a rather ill-thought meme (I know there are many in the Snapedom who would rather just avoid seeing anti-Snape content altogether, so I try to warn when I link people to debates and discussions prompted by anti-posts) but the thoughtful responses that the anti-Snape poster unintentionally generated from members of the Snapedom (particularly by @deathdaydungeon whose critical analyses of Snape and, on occasions, other Harry Potter characters is always so wonderfully nuanced, thought-provoking, and well-considered), are truly excellent and worth reading, in my opinion. Also, as I fall more loosely under the “a” (I’m grey-ace/demisexual) of the lgbtqa+ flag and community I would prefer to start any discussions about Snape as a queer character or as a character with queer coding by highlighting the perspectives of people in the Snapedom who are actually queer before sharing any thoughts of my own.

In addition, I also wanted to share a few other posts where Snape’s queer coding has been discussed by members of the Snapedom in the past (and likely with far more eloquence than I could manage in this response of my own).

Source

Along with an excellent article in Vice by Diana Tourjée, in which a case for Snape being trans is convincingly argued.

Importantly, you’ll notice that while some of these discussions do argue the possibility of Snape being a queer or trans character others may only discuss the way that Snape’s character is queer coded. That is because there is a distinct but subtle difference between: “This character could be queer/lgbtq+” and: “This character has queer/lgbtq+ coding” one which is briefly touched on in the first discussion that I linked you to. However, I would like to elaborate a bit here just what I mean when I refer to Snape as a character with queer coding. As while Rowling has never explicitly stated that she intended to write Snape as lgbtq+ (although there is one interview given by Rowling which could be interpreted as either an unintentional result of trying to symbolically explain Snape’s draw to the dark arts or a vague nod to Snape’s possible bisexuality: "Well, that is Snape's tragedy. ... He wanted Lily and he wanted Mulciber too. He never really understood Lily's aversion; he was so blinded by his attraction to the dark side he thought she would find him impressive if he became a real Death Eater.”) regardless of her intent when she drew upon the existing body of Western literary traditions and tropes for writing antagonists and villains in order to use them as a red-herring for Snape’s character, she also embued his character with some very specific, coded subtext. This is where Death of the Author can be an invaluable tool for literary critics, particularly in branches of literary criticism like queer theory.

Ultimately, even if Rowling did not intend to write Snape as explicitly queer/lgbtq+ the literary tradition she drew upon in order to present him as a foil for Harry Potter and have her readers question whether he was an ally or a villain has led to Snape being queer coded. Specifically, many of the characteristics of Snape’s character design do fall under the trope known as the “queering of the villain.” Particularly, as @deathdaydungeon, @professormcguire, and other members of the Snapedom have illustrated, Snape’s character not only subverts gender roles (e.g. his Patronus presents as female versus male, Snape symbolically assumes the role of “the mother” in the place of both Lily and later Narcissa when he agrees to protect Harry and Draco, his subject of choice is potions and poisons which are traditionally associated more with women and “witches,” while he seemingly rejects in his first introduction the more phallic practice of “foolish wand-waving,” and indeed Snape is characterized as a defensive-fighter versus offensive, in Arthurian mythology he fulfills the role of Lady of the Lake in the way he chooses to deliver the Sword of Gryffindor to Harry, Hermione refers to his hand-writing as “kind of girly,” his association with spiders and spinners also carries feminine symbology, etc.) but is often criticized or humiliated for his seeming lack of masculinity (e.g. Petunia mocking his shirt as looking like “a woman’s blouse,” which incidentally was also slang in the U.K. similar to “dandy” to accuse men of being effeminate, the Marauders refer to Snape as “Snivellus” which suggests Snape is either less masculine because he cries or the insult is a mockery of what could pass for a stereotypical/coded Jewish feature, his nose, Remus Lupin quite literally instructs Neville on how to “force” a Boggart!Snape, who incidentally is very literally stepping out of a closet-like wardrobe, into the clothing of an older woman and I quoted force because that is the exact phrase he uses, James and Sirius flipping Snape upside down to expose him again presents as humiliation in the form of emasculation made worse by the arrival and defense of Lily Evans, etc.).

Overall, the “queering of the villain” is an old trope in literature (although it became more deliberate and prevalent in media during the 1950s-60s); however, in modernity, we still can find it proliferating in many of the Disney villains (e.g. Jafar, Scar, Ursula, etc.), in popular anime and children’s cartoons (e.g. HiM from Powerpuff Girls, James from Pokemon, Frieza, Zarbon, the Ginyu Force, Perfect Cell, basically a good majority of villains from DBZ, Nagato from Fushigi Yuugi, Pegasus from Yu Gi Oh, etc.), and even in modern television series and book adaptations, such as the popular BBC’s Sherlock in the character of Moriarty. Indeed, this article does an excellent job in detailing some of the problematic history of queer coded villains. Although, the most simple summary is that: “Queer-coding is a term used to say that characters were given traits/behaviors to suggest they are not heterosexual/cisgender, without the character being outright confirmed to have a queer identity” (emphasis mine). Notably, TV Tropes also identifies this trope under the classification of the “Sissy Villain” but in queer theory and among queer writers in fandom and academia “queering of the villain” is the common term. This brings me back to Snape and his own queer coding; mainly, because Rowling drew upon Western traditions for presenting a character as a suspected villain she not only wrote Snape as queer (and racially/ethnically) coded but in revealing to the reader that Snape was not, in fact, the villain Harry and the readers were encouraged to believe he was by the narrator she incorporated a long history of problematic traits/tropes into a single character and then proceeded to subvert them by subverting reader-expectation in a way that makes the character of Severus Snape truly fascinating.

We can certainly debate the authorial intent vs. authorial impact where Snape’s character is concerned. Particularly as we could make a case that the polarizing nature of Snape may well be partly the result of many readers struggling against Rowling subverting literary tropes that are so firmly rooted in our Western storytelling traditions that they cannot entirely abandon the idea that this character who all but had the book thrown at him in terms of all the coding that went into establishing him as a likely villain (e.g. similar to Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights, Snape is also coded to be associated with darkness/black colors and to represent danger and volatile/unstable moods, while his class status further characterizes him as an outsider or “foreign other,” and not unlike all those villains of our childhood Disney films which affirmed a more black-and-white philosophy of moral abolutism, such as Scar or Jafar, the ambiguity of Snape’s sexuality coupled with his repeated emasculation signals to the reader that this man should be “evil” and maybe even “predatory,” ergo all the “incel” and friendzone/MRA discourse despite nothing in canon truly supporting those arguments; it seems it may merely be Snape’s “queerness” that signals to some readers that he was predatory or even that “If Harry had been a girl” there would be some kind of danger) is not actually our villain after all.

Indeed, the very act of having Snape die (ignoring, for the moment, any potential issues of “Bury Your Gays” in a queer analysis of his death) pleading with Harry to “look at him” as he symbolically seems to weep (the man whom Harry’s hyper-masculine father once bullied and mocked as “Snivellus”) memories for Harry to view (this time with his permission) carries some symbolic weight for any queer theory analysis. Snape, formerly portrayed as unfathomable and “secretive,” dies while pleading to be seen by the son of both his first and closest friend and his school-hood bully (a son that Snape also formerly could never see beyond his projection of James) sharing with Harry insight into who he was via his personal memories. For Harry to later go on to declare Snape “the bravest man he ever knew” carries additional weight, as a queer theory analysis makes it possible for us to interpret that as Harry finally recognizing Snape, not as the “queer coded villain” he and the reader expected but rather as the brave queer coded man who was forced to live a double-life in which “no one would ever know the best of him” and who, in his final moments at least, was finally able to be seen as the complex human-being Rowling always intended him to be.

Rowling humanizing Snape for Harry and the reader and encouraging us to view Snape with empathy opened up the queer coding that she wrote into his character (intentionally or otherwise) in such a way that makes him both a potentially subversive and inspiring character for the lgbtq+ community. Essentially, Snape opens the door for the possibility of reclaiming a tradition of queer coding specific to villains and demonstrating the way those assumptions about queer identity can be subverted. Which is why I was not at all surprised that I was so easily able to find a body of existing discourse surrounding Snape as a queer coded or even as a potentially queer character within the Harry Potter fandom. At least within the Snapedom, there are many lgbtq+ fans of his character that already celebrate the idea of a queer, bi, gay, trans, ace/aro, or queer coded Snape (in fact, as a grey-ace I personally enjoy interpreting Snape through that lens from time-to-time).

Thank you for your ask @pinkyhatespink and once again I apologize for the amount of time it’s taken me to reply. However, I hope that you’ll find this response answered your question and, if not, that some of the articles and posts from other pro-Snape bloggers I linked you to will be able to do so more effectively. Also, as a final note, although many of the scholarly references and books on queer coding and queering of the villain I would have liked to have sourced are typically behind paywalls, I thought I would list the names of just a few here that I personally enjoyed reading in the past and that may be of further interest should you be able to find access to them.

Fathallah, Judith. “Moriarty’s Ghost: Or the Queer Disruption of the BBC’s Sherlock.” Television & New Media, vol. 16, no. 5, 2014, p. 490-500.

Huber, Sandra. “Villains, Ghosts, and Roses, or How to Speak With The Dead.” Open Cultural Studies, vol. 3, no. 1, 2019, p. 15-25.

Mailer, Norman. “The Homosexual Villain.” 1955. Mind of an Outlaw: Selected Essays, edited by Sipiora Phillip, Random House, 2013, pp. 14–20.

Solis, Nicole Eschen. "Murder Most Queer: The Homicidal Homosexual in the American Theater." Queer Studies in Media & Pop Culture, vol. 1, no. 1, 2016, p. 115+.

Tuhkanen, Mikko. “The Essentialist Villain.” Jan. 2019, SBN13: 978-1-4384-6966-9

#severus snape #pro snape #snape discourse #snape meta #snapedom #snape community #queer theory

74 notes · View notes

szopenhauer · 4 years

Text

Walking into a party, what’s the first thing you look for? someone I know lmfao also a toilet Who was the last person you ate with? my mom, sister and niece

What do you do when you’ve had a bad day? depends Kiss on the first date? maybe Have you ever had a best friend who was of the opposite sex? yes Are you too shy to tell people when you’re developing feelings for them? wouldn’t say so If you could pack up and leave to move away, would you? yeah Do you wish you were with someone right now? I wish my dad was already home and everybody else OUT or just leave me alone, I wouldn’t mind my gf’s company much either How many more people do you think you’ll kiss before you die? nobody else unless CPR will count if I will ever need it Do you like messing with people when they’re drunk? nothing rude/dangerous Whats a song you absolutely hate? Gangnam style for example Your opinions on bi people? most of them end up in heterosexual relationships anyway because it’s easier Song playing right now? Melanie Martinez songs Has anyone ever mistaken you for someone else? my mom and sister

What color dominates your wardrobe? dunno

Do you prefer color photos or black-and white? color, black and white or sepia only if they’re really old - elseway they usually remind me of death What color is your house? What about car? white What color “emotion” are you feeling right now? I’m feeling blue? Have you ever seen a double rainbow before? yep, even this year Do you own anything that is rainbow-colored? like one item that I don’t even use anymore Do you enjoy coloring? not really

If you had the chance to get the cast of any canceled tv show back together to make one “reunion” season, would you? Or do you think it’s better remembering it the way it was? If so, what show would you choose? BUFFY!

Do you find music helps you sleep? Which type of music do you sleep to? recently it helps me survive until I feel sleepy enough to not overthink/cry/get anxiety attacks

Would you try to hold back your tears if you were attending a funeral? I didn’t cry but I believe it depends on who’s funeral it is

If you could be one age forever, how old would you be? I just want to be a kid

Do you have a particular shoe brand you favor over others? nah

If you had the choice, what would your final words be? telling my loved ones that I love them

What is one thing you always wanted as a child, but never received? big stuffed black panther and a treehouse mostly

What social situations tend to make you most nervous? all of them?...

What is one medical myth you’re tired of hearing? for an example that severe illnesses are visible all the damn time

Do you like making up nicknames for people? love, they’re catchy and other ppl start to use them to :D

Delete a year of your life, or start over in a new town? deleting one year wouldn’t help unless it was a year I was born like in Shrek movie...

What do you call your grand-parents? babcia

What’s your favorite song by Taylor Swift? Why is that your favorite? the only one I liked was Bad blood mostly because of the music video

What do you think about your hair right now? ugh...

Do you do your homework at the last minute? oh well...

Would you rather get a new brother or sister? new as in a way of replacement or another?

Have you ever used a Polaroid camera? I wanna buy one someday

What is your favorite thing to do online? lots

Have you ever gone to see a movie just to make fun of it? that’s stupid

Would you rather watch Family Guy or South Park? Simpsons

Does it bother you when people wear pajamas out? I’d do that myself :3

Have you ever tried online dating? How did it go? I tried and every single “relationship” failed, not that there were many of them, I met plenty of people that I wish I didn’t tho

Who was the last person you took a picture with? my sister and niece but shadows only

Do your parents allow smoking in your house? nooo

Is your last name shorter than your first name? longer

Last two numbers in your phone number? personal

Who’s in your house? my fam just went to the garden and I have a moment of silence, finally

What magazine(s) do you look at the most? interior design

Are you paranoid? kind of

What item should never be shared? toothbrush, bloody period pad, underwear, towel, used piece of toilet paper, gum that someone already had in their mouth etc.

Do you sleep with a fan on? I don’t even own a fan

How many plants are in your home? too many

Do you ever type “kik” instead of “lol”? it never happened :o

Do you know how to play chess? forgot

Are you picky? about some stuff, sure

How tall is the person you like? tall, much taller than me

Are you excited for winter? if I was then only for Christmas or New year eventually my birthday but it’s doubtful

If it was free and it would work perfectly, would you get plastic surgery? but it ain’t safe and painless etc.

Have you ever been called prince or princess? I dislike that

Do you like your body? pfft

What do you hear right now? dog barking

Last thing you wrote your name on? documents

Where did you get the pants you’re wearing right now? I don’t even remember anymore

When is the next time you will see your grandma? ...

What is it tomorrow? Sunday

Have you ever laughed at someone because they had a funny name? not face to face, I heard some funny names during mass or my mom told me about them and I saw some online or in movie credits Speaking of names, why do celebrities always call their kids stupid ones? to be unique If you have a problem with someone, will you confront them? maybe

Are you more likely to be called a hard worker or lazy? lazy What is your sense of humor like? quite dark, sarcastic, dry, witty, puns, daddy jokes, memes Have you ever had a dream in black and white? I don’t recall What about a dream with no sound? it’s possible What types of people do you tend to avoid? ... all of them? What is one personality trait a potential friend must have? understanding and similar sense of humor Have you ever been in a helicopter? no What color car would you like to have? DeLorean is grey but if I had a jeep then yellow, red, gree, black or silver

What is your favorite mode of travelling? on foot or train, definitely not plane Are your favorite characters often what the majority like? I hardly ever like the main character so I doubt it but who knows? Is it dark outside right now? not yet Do you get scared when it’s a full moon? when I’m outside it’s bothering If you travel anywhere, do you always buy souvenirs for people? often Are you waiting on anyone coming home right now? YES Do you like the way your voice sounds? nope Can you see the stars from your house? not currently but at night - if it’s not cloudy - yup How would you react if your favorite band made a song with your first name as its title? awesome! unless it was real bad Are you considered an awkward person? it seems Is there a light on in the room you’re in? too bright for that What day were you born on? Saturday, my mom said I shouldn’t be lazy then but I responded with - I was half an hour late for Friday Do you like having a favorite everything or do you enjoy keeping open? I often say I have a lot of favorites of things as I have a hard time choosing just one for most of them

How often do you feel pressured to be better than or different than you are? For example, how often do you feel pressured to be skinner, tanner, prettier, etc? Keep in mind that pressure doesn’t always have to come from others; In fact, we can put a lot of pressure on ourselves. ugh...

Would you rather it snow for three days or rain for a week? rain for a week if it didn’t cause the flood

Have you ever changed the look of a survey because you didn’t like the way it was presented? This can even include adding or deleting numbers to the questions. many times

Does it bother you when surveys ask questions that Google could answer? I agree

When is the last time you had a cell phone that wasn’t a smartphone, if ever? 3 years ago

Do you know anyone who can speak more than 5 languages fluently? noooo

Would you rather write an essay on global warming or UFOs? UFO

Do you like sailing? When was the last time you went, if at all? never been and don’t wanna Favourite Pokemon? Mimikyu and Pikachu Do you or have you done martial arts? Which type? karate, self defence

Favorite animal. raccoon

Any turn ons? personal

3 most important people in your life right now? my dad, my gf and my mom

Do you respond to texts quickly? depends

Who was the last person you called? dad

Winter or summer? summer

What is the secret to a happy life? good health, enough money, peace and quiet, either no people around or only good ones, no worries/problems

What are some phrases/words you say often? MAYBE

What are some of your greatest fears? personal

Spicy food:Like or dislike? my stomach doesn’t like spicy food

Do you like to travel? nope

Do you like rain? yup

Would you rather visit the past or the future? future to see if it’s worth living for - past if not to enjoy once more what I lost

How often do you go to parties? never?...

Do you think you’re ambitious? I know I’m not

What makes you nervous? what doesn’t?...

First mobile phone? grey Siemens

Do you like sharing? sharing what?

What was the last picture you took with your phone? single tiny cloud

If you had one word to describe yourself, what would it be? ME

Are you more creative or logical? why can’t I be both?

Would you rather lie or hurt someone with the truth? I don’t know anymore

When you imagine yourself as really, really relaxed and happy, what are you doing? sleeping well and having a good dream?

What is the best news you could hear right now? that I have no allergies

2 notes · View notes

lewishamil10n · 5 years

Note

Can you write a wincest fic where Sam and Dean have been hiding their feelings for each other for all this time until Dean finds Sam's diary from his childhood/teenage years

sure thing, anon!

under a cut because it got kinda longer than expected.

send me a prompt

-x-

“Dude, where’s your journal?” is how Dean greets Sam when he walks into the kitchen, disheveled in a way that indicates he’s literally just rolled out of bed.

“Good morning to you too,” Sam replies sarcastically, not looking up from his laptop. “What do you need my journal for?”

“Cas just called,” Dean explains, holding out his cell phone to show Sam. “Had some questions about the hunt he’s on, he thinks it’s a pontianak, not an angry spirit. I told him I’d get back to him after checking with you.”

“Oh.” Sam does look up this time, frowning as he thinks. “Pontianak… Dean, that hunt was a couple years ago, it’s not gonna be in this journal. I just started it.”

“Where do you keep the old ones, then?” Dean asks as he starts the coffeemaker.

“Uh…” Sam racks his brains for a second. “Check Archive Room Three, should be there. You might have to look for a while, though, I don’t remember which journal I wrote it down in.”

“It’s fine,” Dean tells him. “If I can’t find it I’ll just holler for you.” And with that, he grabs his mug and heads back out again.

Sam watches him leave, and then goes back to his laptop, idling scrolling through the local news. There isn’t a lot going on when it comes to hunts, or at least challenging ones. Sam misses them a bit, he won’t lie – misses the research and the detective work, even the witness interrogation and, most of all, the pure exhilaration of finally putting the monster down, of winning using nothing more than his own blood and sweat (and occasional tears). He’d wanted to go on the hunt that Cas is on right now with Jack, but it was Dean who’d said no, saying it should be an easy case and Jack needed the experience.

Easy case. As if life ever went according to plan for the Winchesters.

So here he is, bored out of his skull, browsing through paranormal sites on his laptop and wondering absently if the Ghostfacers would mind too much if he hacked their site and made their background bright pink with comic sans as the font. It’s the least they deserve after the migraines they give Sam with their shitty website and their insistence that they’re legit.

He’s jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps, and he looks up just in time to see Dean re-enter the kitchen. He’s holding an old leatherbound journal in his hands, and his expression is stormy, determined.

“Dean?” Sam questions, raising an eyebrow. “Something wrong with the journal?”

In response, Dean just slams it down on the table in front of Sam, making him jump. “What the hell is this, Sam?”

“My journal?” Sam answers, confused. “What’s wrong with you, man–” He stops short when he gets a closer look at it, though, and then his heart sinks right down to his toes. “Oh.”

Dean huffs, and sits down across from Sam. “Got a lot of explaining to do, Sammy.”

Sam eyes the journal, placed exactly halfway between them on the table, and then puts his laptop aside. He knows this one, recognizes the battered cover and torn edges very well, and the spine worn thin from overuse. He’d spent a good portion of his teenage years writing in it, every single thought that came into his head, unedited, uncensored.

Every single damn thought.

“What did you see?” he asks softly. Maybe, if he’s lucky, Dean’s just found one of the ruder sections he’d written after a particularly nasty fight with John, and that’s all this is.

Right. Like that’s going to happen. Winchester luck, after all.

Instead of replying, Dean just opens the journal and flips to a page somewhere in the middle, and then hands it over silently. His eyes remain on Sam’s face even after Sam’s taken the journal from him, heart beating uncomfortably fast in his chest as he looks down at the yellowed pages.

It’s not about his arguments with John, or his yearning for a life outside of hunting, or even one of his numerous rants about Dean’s bad habits. It is about Dean, though, and Sam can’t read it for longer than a few seconds before he slams it shut, cringing. “Dude,” he says, though he has no idea what the hell he can even say.

Dean leans forward in his chair, reducing the distance between them. “Is it true?” he demands. “You were in love with me?”

“I – yeah,” Sam admits, and looks away. His heartbeat is deafening in his ears, and he feels sick to his stomach.

“For real?”

“Yeah.” In his head he’s already going over all the possible places he can stay when Dean inevitably kicks him out. It’s a pathetically short list.

Dean exhales, long and slow, and then takes the journal back. Sam watches as he flips through some more pages, and wonders uneasily what the fuck Dean’s thinking. His brother’s face is unreadable right now, stone cold and flat, and it scares Sam that he can’t tell what’s going on in his mind, that he doesn’t know what to expect.

If Dean tries to make him read any more, though, Sam’s going to get up and leave. No way is he doing that to himself.

To his immense relief, though, Dean snaps the journal shut again and puts it back on the table, this time gentler than before. His expression is twisted with conflict, and he’s biting his lip, looking like there’s some great debate raging on inside his head. For all Sam knows, there probably is. It can’t be easy, finding out your kid brother’s been harboring some decidedly unbrotherly, non-heterosexual feelings towards you for literal decades.

Dean sucks in a breath, and then says, “And now?”

“Now?” Sam swallows. “Um. I don’t know, Dean. I’ll – I’ll leave if you want me to.”

“Not what I meant,” Dean says. His gaze on Sam’s face is intense, laser-focused, and Sam can feel his face heating up in response to it.

“Then?” he asks, voice so low it’s almost inaudible. He can’t help but feel like the situation is spinning out of his control now, not that he had much of it in the first place.

“You still feel like that now?” Dean clarifies, and his tone is so odd that it makes Sam look up again. His expression is shuttered, eyes narrowed as he waits for Sam to answer, and he’s got his hands knotted on top of the journal.

Sam should lie, he knows. Tell Dean that it was just teenage hormones, that he’s grown out of it, knows better now. Say that it’s all in the past and he’s over it, and it’s not gonna be a problem. It’s not gonna change anything between them.

But that’s bullshit, and it will, it’s already beginning to, and Sam’s frustration and helplessness peak suddenly, coming out in a burst of painfully blunt honesty. “What do you want me to say, Dean? Yeah, I do, all right? I tried really fucking hard not to, and it just never works, okay? And I know you don’t feel that way, and you know what, that’s fine, it is, but I just–”

“Who says I don’t?”

Sam comes to an abrupt halt. “What?”

“Who says I don’t?” Dean repeats, slower, enunciating each word. His expression is still a bit off, but Sam can see the mask cracking, can sense the uncertainty under it now.

“You don’t what?”

“Feel the same way,” Dean clarifies, untangling his fingers and leaning even more into Sam’s space. “Sam… shit. So many fucking years. All that time wasted, I just… fuck. All that time.” The cracks widen; Dean’s expression is clearing, the intensity of his feelings beginning to leak through.

“What are you talking about?” Sam asks. He doesn’t understand. This isn’t… he’s so lost.

In response, Dean gets to his feet, and gives Sam a look that has him freezing into his seat, deer in headlights and counting down the moments till he’s run over. He knows that look, knows it intimately, because it’s the expression Dean wears when he literally cannot find words for just how fond he feels of Sam, or when he’s so happy he can’t speak, can’t do anything but laugh.

Something flips in Sam’s stomach.

“Dean?”

And then Dean kisses him. It’s just a soft press of his lips to Sam’s mouth, feather light, but Sam’s whole body responds so quickly that it must be instinct, what else could it possibly be, the way he just melts into Dean, eyes falling shut.

Dean chuckles against his mouth, and kisses him again. “Idiot,” he says fondly, and Sam opens his eyes to see that expression still on Dean’s face, fond and so full of love. “All that time, Sammy… why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” Sam challenges, a little breathless even though they haven’t even done anything yet.

“Didn’t know how to,” Dean tells him as he sits down next to him. He presses a kiss to the corner of Sam’s mouth. “Didn’t know what to say, Sammy. Guess I still don’t.”

“I don’t, either,” Sam admits. “I never did. I just… all I did was look, ‘cause it was all I could do.”

“All this time,” Dean repeats, and looks a little dazed. Kisses Sam’s mouth again, like he can’t get enough, and Sam’s whole body is tinging with it, head to toe. “All this time, Sammy… I was looking too.”

“God, we’re really stupid, aren’t we?” Sam says with a wet laugh, closing his eyes.

“We really are,” Dean agrees, lips moving against Sam’s. “But you know what, Sammy? That’s all right. We got there in the end, didn’t we, baby?”

Sam’s whole body heats with the nickname, the softness behind it, and he smiles against Dean’s mouth. “What now?” he asks.

“Guess we figure it out together,” Dean tells him. Sam doesn’t know when Dean’s hand landed on his waist, but he’s not about to complain.

“Like we always have,” he says quietly.

“Like we always have,” agrees Dean, and kisses him again.

-x-

this got a bit longer than expected, but i hope it’s okay, anon! thanks so much for the prompt!

#wincest #supernatural #getting together #my writing #ficlet #anonymous

32 notes · View notes

lets-talk-appella · 6 years

Note

33 Bechloe OTP Drabble challenge quote list ( don’t do that again you scared the shit out of me)

Thanks for the prompt! Here is the finished fic that I previewed a few days ago, and I’m excited to finally share it will you guys.

Black Sabbath

Summary: Motorcycle Beca. Need I say more? (as in, Beca riding a motorcycle, not some weird cyborg stuff where Beca’s half-human-half-motorcycle. Though that might be cool too, I guess.)

Timeline: Set during Beca’s junior year.

Word Count: 4.8k

Rated T

AO3 and FFN

Chloe canremember with borderline-alarming clarity each and every single time she’d had tohold herself back from pinning Beca Mitchell to the nearest wall and smashingtheir lips together. She’s always surfing at least a small wave of attraction,of course; when Beca looks like that,it’s hard not to be attracted to her. But sometimes, Beca says or doessomething to send Chloe into overdrive, to make her mind empty and her bodyscream for Beca’s touch.

Somethingthat isn’t possible when Beca’s in a relationship with Jesse.

However,Beca’s unavailability doesn’t change the fact that sometimes, she doessomething that makes Chloe want to jump her right then and there. For example:

1. Theinstant “No Diggity” fell from Beca’s lips at her first-ever riff-off (thesheer bravery that must have taken astounds Chloe).

2. WhenBeca’s eyes met hers over the mashup of Justthe Way You Are and Just a Dream(Beca made the Bellas – made Chloe – better).

3. Thetime she and Beca had gotten a flat tire on their way to get groceries, andwithout missing a beat, Beca had hopped out of the car to change it (Chloeremembers the way her arm muscles had popped out as she’d turned the lugwrench).

4. Everyinteraction Beca had ever had with a dog (she might pretend to be grumpy, butthat girl is a total softie).

5. Andnow, when Beca roars into the driveway of the Bella house, a jet-black HarleyDavidson motorcycle cradled between her legs (yes, really).

Sure, therider has a helmet on. But Chloe can tell it’s Beca by the chocolate hairpoking from under it and the petite frame wrapped under the leather jacket.

Beca hasmost definitely pulled up to the Bella house astride a motorcycle.

Chloe’sjaw literally drops, so quickly that it pops. All she can do is stare out theliving room window in stunned disbelief, her Tolstoy book completely forgottenin her hands. She hadn’t even known Beca has a motorcycle license.

Apparently,even after two and a half years into their friendship, Chloe still doesn’t knoweverything about Beca.

The throatyroar of the Harley’s engine cuts off, but not before it draws the attention ofFlo, Stacie, and Cynthia-Rose, who had been having lunch in the kitchen. Stacieflies over to the window so eagerly that for a second, Chloe thinks she’s aboutto smash right through the glass. Cynthia-Rose and Flo manage to restrainthemselves slightly more, but they’re still right on Stacie’s heels.

Partingthe already open blinds for a better view of Beca, Stacie emits a low whistle,then practically moans, “That’s so hot.”

Nodding inagreement, Cynthia-Rose draws out, “Dammmnnn. It’s a shame I’m taken.”Absentmindedly, she raises a hand and bites down on her own index finger as Flocranes her neck for a look at Beca on the bike.

Chloe seesall of this in her periphery; she hasn’t been able to tear her eyes away fromBeca.

And if shethought that Beca riding the Harley was hot, the image of Beca disembarkingfrom it is positively sinful. Time slows and Chloe’s vision tunnels until she,Beca, and that black motorcycle are the only things in the world; she stareswith blatant desire as Beca shifts her weight to her right foot, which is plantedfirmly on the ground, and lifts her left leg to swing it smoothly (and slowly,so unbelievably slowly) up and over the seat of the bike. Because Beca is sucha small person and the Harley is so huge, the move should look ridiculous… butinstead, it makes Chloe’s mouth go dry and grip tighten on her book.

Standingbeside the Harley, Beca reclaims her hands from the handlebars and moves them casuallyto the straps of her helmet. Chloe watches closely as her strong fingers workat the buckle, tugging the strap and pulling it through the restraint. A visionof those same fingers working at Chloe’s belt buckle – or at other leatherrestraints – hits Chloe hard and her breath hitches at the wildly inappropriate(but no less welcome) thought. And when Beca finally pulls off the helmet toreveal porcelain skin, stormy eyes, and long hair (time is moving so slowlythat Chloe can count every strand as Beca shakes her hair out) Chloe stopsbreathing completely.

But Beca’snot done yet. She sets her helmet down on the seat, then grasps the collar ofher leather jacket with her right hand while the left eases the zipper down,down her body. Even though Chloe is sitting inside, perched on the very edge ofher chair (how did that happen?), knuckles white on her book and lower lipsnared between her teeth, she can hear every snick snick snick thezipper makes as Beca drags it down with agonizing purpose. Chloe’s eyes trackBeca’s movements until the jacket is completely unzipped, and then her gazeshifts to the low cut of the T-shirt Beca’s wearing. Beca shrugs free of thejacket with a roll of her shoulders, then places it next to the helmet on themotorcycle seat.

Chloeknows she should feel bad about objectifying her best friend. But in thatmoment, Beca is so unbelievably sexy that it makes heat shoot between her legsand drags a soft, “Oh, fuck,” fromher lips.

“You wish,”Flo’s snort shatters the illusion and life resumes its normal speed. Chloelooks up at her, flustered, warmth rising from her neck to her face, and knowsshe’d been caught staring. Ogling.

She’sspared from having to answer Flo’s smug look by the opening of the front door.Chloe hastily rises from her chair, trying (unsuccessfully) to make herselflook less hot and bothered. She stands awkwardly half-hidden behind the otherthree Bellas facing the entryway, but nevertheless feels her face light on firewhen Beca turns the corner to see them all watching her.

There’s abeat of silence, during which Beca smirks at her audience. She looks pastStacie, Cynthia-Rose, and Flo to make direct eye contact with Chloe before askingin a low tone, “Can I give you a ride?”

The breath flies from Chloe’s lungs in an audiblesqueak, causing Stacie to turn to her in delight. After an embarrassingly longpause during which Chloe’s brain cells struggle to rearrange themselves, shemanages to gasp out, “Give… what?”

Becaraises an eyebrow. Chloe doesn’t blame her.

“You know.On my motorcycle. Would you – any of you – like a ride?”

“Oh,”Chloe says softly, hoping that a hole will open in the floor below her feet.Anything to avoid the gleeful looks Flo, Cynthia-Rose, and Stacie are currentlyexchanging at her expense.

Becashifts her weight, looking thoughtful. “You know what,” she starts, “maybe nevermind. I only have the one helmet, and I don’t feel like scraping any of you offthe road if something happens, so… I’ll order another one and we’ll talk then.”

That doesit. Beca’s protective streak is what sends Chloe flying over the edge intoinsanity. The urge to run to Beca, to tear off that shirt, to feel Beca’s skinunder her fingers, to shove her tongue in Beca’s mouth rips through Chloe; herfingers twitch and she shifts her weight to move forward when –

“When didyou get your license?”

Cynthia-Rose’svoice jerks Chloe back to painful reality – the one where there are otherpeople in the room and Beca is in a committed heterosexual relationship.

“Meh. Awhile ago,” Beca answers with a shrug, though her eyes never leave Chloe’sface. White hot panic floods Chloe – if Beca guessed what she’d been thinking….

Before Chloecan start hyperventilating, though, Stacie snares Beca’s attention by saying ina sultry tone, “I’d definitely like a ride, Beca. I’m assuming I’d have to wrapmy arms around you and hang on tight? Maybe press myself nice and close?”

For aninstant, Chloe hates Stacie. Some kind of roaring monster rises in her chest,urging her to lash out, to do anything to keep Stacie’s hands away from Beca’sbody, to claim Beca as hers – eventhough Beca isn’t hers – but then she sees the smallest of smiles lifting thecorners of Stacie’s lips. She realizes it’s only a joke, meant to fluster Becaa little, because that’s what Stacie loves to do. The monster in Chloe’s chest goesdormant as suddenly as it had awoken, though leaving her shaken. She knowsshe’s a jealous person, but still. That was a lot.

Beca on amotorcycle clearly does things to her.

It doesn’thelp at all when Beca, instead of blushing or choking over her words, merely bitesher lip and leans casually against the door frame leading into the living room.

“You’dhave to hold on tight for sure,” she says with quiet confidence, “not everyonecan handle that much power between their legs.”

And shewinks directly at Chloe before turning to go up the stairs to her room.

The otherBellas laugh and make “ooooh” noises,so they don’t notice Chloe as she wobbles her way back to her chair on shakylegs. She takes several deep breaths to calm herself, actually shaking her headside to side in an attempt to clear it. She has reading to do. Even if she’splanning on failing one more time, she does actually want to learn thematerial.

She forcesherself to look back down at the book in her hands. Instead of Tolstoy’s words,however, all she sees is the arch of Beca’s neck as she shakes her hair freeand the cool satisfaction in her eyes as she looks at Chloe like she’s the onlygirl in the world.

Chloeshifts uncomfortably in her chair.

Studyingwill have to wait.

By somemiracle, Chloe manages to keep Beca’s motorcycle off her mind often enough overthe next few weeks that she can function like a normal human being, rather thanacting like a horny teenage boy drawn in by all that leather and horsepower.Every now and then, though, Beca revs the Harley unexpectedly or says someoffhand comment about weaving around traffic that makes Chloe’s face warm andheart race.

She’s alittle annoyed with herself over the whole thing, but she can’t help it; Becaon a motorcycle is hot.

True toher word, Beca had taken each of the Bellas in turns out on the back of theHarley once a second helmet had arrived. She experienced varying levels ofsuccess with this; Stacie had loved every second, while both Cynthia-Rose andAmy absolutely despised it – Amy had even forced Beca to let her off and had walkedherself home rather than staying on the “deafening death contraption.” Jessicaand Ashley had been relatively indifferent, though Jessica knew a surprisingamount about motorcycles in general – as it turns out, her dad is a mechanic.Flo had enjoyed the experience, but said she preferred the safety of cars, andas for Lilly… well, Chloe was never sure exactly what happened there, but upontheir return to the Bella house, Beca had made it very clear that Lilly wouldnot be allowed on her Harley ever again.

And Chloewould give anything to say that she loved the Harley, and to an extent, it’strue; she adores the speed, the feeling of the wind pressing against her, andthe freedom riding the motorcycle brings. More than that, she welcomes havingthe excuse to wrap her arms around Beca’s waist and told on tight to the warm,solid presence seated in front of her. Beyond all else, though, she loveshearing Beca’s laugh before the wind whips it away; she can’t remember the lasttime she’s heard Beca laugh like that.

However,she can’t get over how dangerous thewhole thing seems. Even though she knows Beca won’t let anything bad happen(she’s an excellent driver), she worries about tipping over or hittingsomething and losing control or – and this is the most terrifying – getting hitby someone else in a car or truck. She feels too exposed on the motorcycle, andwhile that is part of the fun, the fear of fiery death takes precedent.

Nevertheless,she’s been on that motorcycle behind Beca more than any of the other Bellashave.

And yet,at the moment, Chloe isn’t thinking about how ridiculously breathtaking Becalooks riding the Harley or how scary the whole thing can be; instead, she’sfocused on absorbing as much of Dr.Zhivago as she can before her test next week. Sure, she’s planning onfailing the test anyway (Beca has another year left, and so, Chloe does too),but it’s still a really good book.

She’s juststarted the next chapter when her phone rings. It’s only by chance that sheeven hears it; normally, she sets her phone to “Do Not Disturb” while she doeshomework, but she’d obviously forgotten. Instead, the sound of Beca’s latestmix – a mash-up of Taylor Swift’s I KnewYou Were Trouble and Bad Blood –permeates the air and shatters her concentration. She glances at her phone tosee an unknown number. She almost ignores it, but something tells her to answer.

“Hello?”

A beat,then, “Is this Chloe Beale?”

Shefrowns, not recognizing the woman’s voice. “Yes, who’s asking?”

“This isBarden Central Hospital. You’re listed as the emergency contact for a BecaMitchell. Does this sound correct?”

Chloe’sstomach jolts as if she’s been punched; the air rushes from her lungs and for amoment she can’t even think.

“MissBeale?” the voice prompts. “Do you know Beca Mitchell?”

Chloesnaps out of her shock, blinking against the dots that appeared in her vision.Clutching her phone tightly, she chokes out, “Y-yes. What – is she okay?”

“She’sbeen involved in an accident.”

Gratefulshe’s already sitting on her bed, Chloe feels her legs go numb, as if the previouspang to her stomach has traveled to her limbs. No. Not Beca. Not Beca on hermotorcycle, so open and exposed.

“MissBeale? Are you there?”

Chloedimly registers that the woman’s talking to her, but it’s as though she’slooking down on herself from above. She sees the phone in her grasp, takes inthe stunned and fearful expression on her own face, but all she can hear is ahigh-pitched ringing, like she’d recently attended a loud concert.

“What?”Chloe finally asks, pulling herself back into her own body with a tremendouseffort.

“I said,you may wish to come to Barden Central.” The voice sounds so calm. Chloe is farfrom calm.

“Is Becaokay?” she hears herself ask again.

It’s the onlyquestion in the world that matters.

“I’mafraid I can’t release confidential information on the phone.”

Chloe suddenlydespises the woman’s casual tone, as if she doesn’t care that Chloe’s terrifiedout of her mind. As if she doesn’t care that Beca could be seriously hurt, oreven…. All Chloe can see is Beca’s motorcycle torn to shreds, its rider tossedaside and shattered like a China doll.

Beca, notcoming back home to her.

“Oh, but –I’ll be there soon.” She hangs up abruptly. Arguing with the woman aboutconfidentiality won’t fix Beca.

For asecond, she’s frozen on her bed. She thinks she might be sick and looks arounddimly for her trash can. But then she realizes – she’s wasting time! Beca needsher, Beca might be in pain, Beca might be dying.

She has toget to Beca. Her nausea vanishes.

Chloebolts off the bed, her legs almost giving out as she sends her homework flying.She’s shouting for the Bellas before she even leaves her room. She doesn’t slowdown, just keeps yelling for the others. When the confused faces of Ashley andJessica – apparently the only other Bellas currently in the house – appear, shedoesn’t explain, only barks, “It’s Beca – we need to go now!” at them. Without pause, she launches herself down the stairsand to the front door, barely remembering to grab shoes, her keys, and her purse.

“Wait!”Ashley catches her arm in a surprisingly strong grip, dragging her to a halt asshe’s halfway out the door.

Chloealmost shoves Ashley away for slowing her down, but manages to control herself.She stares at Ashley wild-eyed, wondering what could possibly be more importantthan getting to the hospital. Getting to Beca.

“Where arewe going?” Ashley asks, quick and to the point.

Oh. Thatis an important detail.

“Hospital,”Chloe manages, fear rising in her throat at the single word.

Surprisedconcern flashes across both Ashley and Jessica’s features, but they schooltheir features quickly.

“I’lldrive,” Jessica says firmly, reaching for the keys. “Let’s go.”

Even inChloe’s haste (she practically throws herself out the door and into thepassenger seat of her own car), she finds herself appreciating Ashley andJessica more than ever.

The driveto the hospital is hazy and confused, tainted with terror. Chloe’s gratefulthat Jessica’s driving; if she’d been the one behind the wheel, she’d probablyhave caused another accident. They’re somehow driving simultaneously too fastand not fast enough; Chloe dreads getting to the hospital, dreads the news shemight be about to receive, but also can’t bear the thought of not being withBeca.

All toosoon (and not soon enough), Jessica’s pulling into the guest lot. It’s full,though, and finding parking will be impossible. Chloe only has to make eyecontact with Jessica before Jessica says, “Go! Get out and I’ll meet youinside!”

Chloedoesn’t have to be told twice. She fumbles for her seatbelt release, then thedoor handle, shoves the door away from her, and spills out of the car, almostfalling again before she catches herself. Ashley climbs out from the backseatto walk with her, her face grimly determined.

Theyhalf-jog into the hospital’s main entrance, Chloe nearly plowing over anelderly woman in her rush. Firing an apology over her shoulder, Chloeapproaches the reception desk where a woman (maybe the one on the phone?) typesaway at her computer.

“Hello,”Chloe says breathlessly, desperate to get the woman’s attention.

“Onemoment,” the woman says without taking her eyes away from the screen as shetypes.

Resistingthe urge to launch herself over the desk and commandeer the computer, Chloesettles for tapping her foot rapidly on the floor to dispel some of her nervousenergy. Ashley reaches forward to touch her on the arm, but even that is onlyso soothing.

God, she hateshow hospitals smell.

Chloestares hard at the woman’s face, silently daring her to meet her gaze. It’s notuntil she feels she could have bored a hole into the woman’s forehead with theintensity of her stare that the woman finally looks up at her with milddisinterest.

“Yes?” sheasks calmly. It’s definitely the woman from the phone.

“We’rehere for Beca Mitchell,” Chloe says in a rush, surprised she can speak aroundthe lump in the back of her throat. “I got a call about her.”

“Hmm.Mitchell… Mitchell…” the woman’s eyes return to the screen. She types, clickssomething, scrolls, then clicks again. Pause. Another scroll. Another click.Pause. Scroll. The woman raises the hand not currently scrolling to scratch hernose.

Chloe’seye twitches.

“We are abit worried about her,” Ashley nudges much more gently than Chloe would have.

“Hmm,” thewoman replies.

“Okay, listen,you –” Chloe starts to explode until the woman levels her with a serious look.

“MissMitchell is currently in room 412, awaiting doctor assessment. She was involvedin a collision with a pickup truck and is –”

Chloedoesn’t wait to hear the rest of the sentence; she’s waited long enough to seeBeca. She turns away from the desk, Beca’s room number echoing around the wallsof her mind. She doesn’t wait for Ashley, but goes ahead and slams her hand onthe elevator call button. Thanfully, the doors slide open immediately and shesteps inside, assuming that Ashley will meet up with Jessica and go uptogether.

As the elevatordoors close behind her, Chloe blinks back tears. She can’t cry yet, becausethat seems like giving up on Beca. A motorcycle versus a pickup truck. Itdoesn’t take a genius to figure out the winner in that scenario. Her handsclench into fists as her panic starts to boil. Not Beca, anyone but Beca, please.

Theelevator drags itself up to the fourth floor, then opens with a deceptivelypleasant ding. Chloe’s eyes zero inon the room directory; 412 is to the left. She turns that way and starts to walk.Time does that strange liquid thing again, until the walls are quivering aroundher. She wonders if she might pass out, then thinks idly that at least she’salready at a medical center. Let it be meinstead, let me trade places with her, just not Beca.

She passes410 on the right, then 411 on the left, which means – yes, there’s 412. Thedoor is open a crack. Chloe sees her own hand reach for the door, knocking oncebefore easing it open to slip inside the white-walled room. She’s terrified ofwhat might be inside that room. Beca BecaBeca Beca –

“Finally,Jesus Christ, how long do I have towait before –” Beca cuts off her tirade the instant her eyes meet Chloe’s.Chloe blinks in shock and jerks to a stop, rooted to the floor. Beca is sittingup on the edge of the bed, dressed in a gown but not connected to the machinesnext to the bed. She’s got a dark bruise on her right arm, but otherwise seemsperfectly fine.

“Uh,”Chloe says. She’d been expecting to see Beca’s broken body lying in a coma andhooked to dozens of different wires. This is not the case.

There’s abeat of awkward silence, then Beca grimaces. “I guess they called you, huh?”

Chloe’smind catches up with her and relief floods her body. She walks forward untilshe’s right next to Beca, then pulls her into a crushing hug. “Don’t ever dothat again! You scared the shit out of me!” she says fiercely into Beca’sshoulder even as she inhales her familiar perfume.

“Chlo, I’mtotally fine,” Beca insists, and Chloe can almost hear her rolling her eyes, but Beca still returns the hug withequal force.

Chloe pullsaway after a moment, blinking rapidly. “Why the hell did they call me and tell me to come here, then?” she asks,equal parts angry and relieved.

Beca shrugsapologetically. “I don’t know, maybe they have to call an emergency contact inan accident? The doctor has to come in and see if I have a concussion oranything.”

“You meanyou haven’t even been checked over?” Chloe asks incredulously.

“Nah.You’re faster than the actual doctor,” Beca adds with a grin. “Didn’t they tellyou that at the desk? What did you think was happening?”

Ashley’svoice suddenly comes from behind her: “Yeah, she didn’t exactly give them achance to tell her anything.” Chloe glances back to see Ashley and Jessica hadjoined them in the room. Ashley continues, “She heard the room number and cameflying up here like a bat out of hell before the receptionist could explain.”

“Probablyran over a kid on the way, too,” Jessica adds, looking immensely amused. Chloefeels her face warm and she looks at her feet, only then noticing that in herhaste, she had put two different shoes on. Awesome.

“Chlo?”Beca’s unexpectedly soft voice makes her look up. “I’m sorry you were worried.I’m okay, though, seriously.”

“Well,what did you expect me to think?” Chloe asks, feeling foolish and defensive. “Ijust got a call from the hospital saying that you were in an accident, so ofcourse I –”

“Thank youfor coming so quickly,” Beca interrupts. “It really means a lot.” Something inher expression, some sort of tenderness mixed with something that Chloe can’tquite identify relaxes Chloe immediately. She hears a soft click behind her;Ashley and Jessica left the room to wait outside and shut the door behind them.

“I’m just soglad you’re okay,” Chloe whispers into the space between them, her fingersghosting over the bruise on Beca’s arm.

Becasmiles at her gently. “I’m okay,” she repeats. “It was the other guy’s fault.He pulled out in front of me and I ran right into the side of his truck bed,”she winces, rolls out her right shoulder, then continues. “I fell, and I’mokay, but Black Sabbath went flying off in a different direction and anothercar ran her over. She’s very much not okay.”

Chloeraises an eyebrow. “Black Sabbath?” she asks. “Her?”

Beca’scheeks tinge pink, but she meets Chloe’s stare and says proudly, “That’s what Inamed her. Yes, her.”

Chloesmiles, then frowns. “So… she can’t be fixed.”

Beca pullsanother face. “No, it didn’t look like it.”

“I’msorry.”

“It’sokay, actually,” Beca dismisses, waving a hand. “I’m not sure… well, it wasmore of a, uh, mid-college crisis. I mean, I loved it, but… I don’t need a newone for a while.”

Chloetries valiantly to hide her own disappointment; she wishes suddenly she’d takena photo of Beca on that motorcycle. You know, for the memories.

Becainterrupts the momentary fantasy when she asks tentatively, “Um, did you tellmy dad? Or Jesse?”

Chloe’sstomach pangs with guilt; she’d honestly forgotten all about Dr. Mitchell andJesse. “No…” Chloe shakes her head slowly, “should I have?”

“No!” Becaexclaims, so vehemently that Chloe’s startled. Beca rubs a hand over the backof her neck, then says, “I mean, sorry, it’s just. They don’t need to know. Dadwould freak out, and Jesse… well. He never really saw the point of it. TheHarley. And, well. We’ve been fighting a lot and, uh.” She shrugs again,looking immensely awkward and uncertain.

“Bec, Ihad no idea,” Chloe says once she finds her voice. She hopes she manages tokeep her petty satisfaction at bay – she knows something about Beca that Jessenever will. “Are you two… are you okay?”

Becashrugs almost indifferently. She refuses to meet Chloe’s eyes. Undeterred,Chloe reaches to envelop one of Beca’s hands in hers and squeezes gently.

Becaexhales slowly, tracing her thumb over the back of Chloe’s hand, before sheglances up and whispers so quietly that Chloe has to lean in to hear her, “It’s…Chlo… I think I might be –”

“HelloBeca!” a loud female voice startles them both, and Beca yanks her hand awayfrom Chloe’s as if she’d been stung. Though they hadn’t heard a knock or thedoor open, they both turn to see a woman looking at Beca expectantly. Shesmiles and says, “I’m Dr. Lorenz, and I’ll be checking up on you before we canrelease you today, okay?”

“Oh, uh,yeah,” Beca manages, clearly flustered and looking anywhere except at Chloe.

Chloelooks back and forth between Beca and Dr. Lorenz until it occurs to her thatshe should wait outside to give Beca some privacy. She glances to Beca one lasttime, trying to search her face for whatever it was she’d been about to say,but Beca isn’t looking at her. Instead, she stares down at her lap, chewing onher lower lip.

Chloeswallows hard and says, “I’ll… just wait outside?”

Becadoesn’t look up. Dr. Lorenz merely smiles at her tiredly. Utterly perplexed,Chloe leaves the room to join Ashley and Jessica out in the hallway. She closesthe door behind her and sinks down into a chair next to Ashley.

“How isshe?” Jessica asks from Ashley’s other side.

“She’sgood,” Chloe replies vaguely, her thoughts running circles in her mind. In thepast hour, she��d gone from rushing to what she thought might be a dying Beca tohaving a normal conversation with her to now wondering if Beca’s about to breakthings off with Jesse.

She needstime to think.

Chloeknows then that she won’t be getting anything else done for the rest of theday. Her mind is too preoccupied with Beca and her now-questionable future withJesse to concentrate on anything else.

That’sokay, though. It’s not like she needs to study Russian Lit anyway; not when theopportunity she’s been waiting for might finally be within her grasp.

#bechloe #bechloe prompt #my writing #beca x chloe #pitch perfect fanfiction #beca mitchell #chloe beale #jesse swanson #motorcycle fic because why not #Anonymous

165 notes · View notes

alamhiganbard-blog · 5 years

Text

Bio and Description

Arthur “Red” Redington

-Basic Info-

Age: 28

Birthday: 11th Sun of the 4th Umbral Moon

Race: Ala Mhigan

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Relationship Status: Single

OOC:

Timezone: EST

Server: Balmung

-Physical Appearance-

Hair: Reddish brown in color. Faded up the sides and long on the top, tied into a knot at the back with some hanging loose. His beard matches his hair in color and is well groomed. It’s thick and meets his sideburns.

Eyes: Vibrant Aquamarine

Height: 6′5″

Build: Muscular, fit.

Distinguishing Features:

Scars: One laterally oriented scar under his left eye. One diagonal scar above his right eye. The rest of his body has a few battle scars but not too many.

Tattoos: If you were to ever see him in short sleeves or shirtless he has a full sleeve tattoo on both arms that stop just before the wrist. They would join on his back and the upper part of his chest. They are mostly depictions of traditional Ala Mhigan Warriors in combat up the arms, the chest would be of the battles turning to music notes that lead to the body of a lute (not the neck) where the notes are coming from. The back would turn into a larger scene of battle that meets in the spine with a lighting bolt down each side of the spine and Rhalgr's beacon on the actual spine.

Metal Claws: While this should fall under Equipment, it is more of distinguishable feature in my eyes. Whenever he is outside of the house he wears black metallic claws rather than gloves.

Common Equipment:

More often than not, he wears a belt cluttered with various tools, gadgets, and vials of potions and samples. Always attached to the back of the belt is a small bag to carry various other, smaller, items.

Whether you see it your not, he is always carrying a boot knife and a pistol, though the pistol is concealed. This is on top of whatever his main weapon of choice at the time is.

Because they truly are important, I will say them again. He often wears black metal claws in place of gloves.

He never leaves home without his trusty flask filled with Ala Mhigan Bourbon.

Around his neck he wears protection charm. It has a wolf’s tooth attached to a black piece of twine, with two red beads on either side of it.

-Personal-

Profession: Bard | Red Mage | Businessman | Ex-Resistance | Void Investigator

Likes:

Ala Mhigan Bourbon on the rocks with a splash of Vermouth, but Ala Mhigan Bourbon straight is a-okay too

Spending time with friends

A good performance

Music

A good mystery

The pursuit of knowledge

Cooking

Fishing

Reading

His companion, Talon (Chocobo)

Fellow Ala Mhigans (Especially other Ex-Resistance fighters)

The Bull of Ala Mhigo

Dislikes:

Traitors to Ala Mhigo

Slavers

Rapists

Abuse of Knowledge

Languages:

Common

Garlean

Residence:

Shirogane, Hingashi (Apartment)

Mists, Aldenard (Company House)

Birthplace: Ala Mhigo, Gyr Abania

Religious Beliefs: The Twelve, but he isn’t too religious

Fears:

Being seen as weak

Finding love and it being ripped away

Loneliness and being abandoned

Never living up to his potential

Never having a family of his own

-Relationships-

Significant Other: N/A

Spouse: N/A

Children: N/A

Parents:

Slade Redington (Deceased): A proud and powerful Ala Mhigan businessman and warrior. He was smart and rich, which made him a threat. He was executed in the streets in front of Arthur and his mother. His final words were “Liberty or Death!” He was truly a son of Ala Mhigo.

Emma Redington (Deceased): A sweet and loving Ala Mhigan mother and performer. While she was busy raising Arthur, she often would help Slade with the books. She would also travel around Gyr Abania putting on shows for the populace in an attempt to lift their spirits. She sacrificed herself to get Arthur out of Garlean Occupied Ala Mhigo and to the Shroud.

Siblings: N/A

“Extended Family:”

Gemeaux Beaudonet: The youngest of the Beaudonet Noble family of Ishgard. Gem is like a brother to Arthur, going through some training with him, and being a staunch, albeit it pompous, friend to him.

Suto Shadowbell: Ysegawa Toyatomi’s younger, adopted, brother. Co-owner of the Crimson Tide Trading Company, and manager. Suto is like a younger brother to Arthur, and he acts like it too.

Ysegawa Toyatomi: Another man who is seen as a brother in Arthur’s eyes, who greatly helped the Resistance effort and Arthur as well after the liberation.

Pets:

Edger: A loving and annoying black cat who Arthur adopted shortly after the Liberation. He resides in Arthur’s apartment, knocking over things and trying to eat his food.

-Traits-

*Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

-Additional Information-

Smoking Habit: Yes, he smokes a custom blend of tobacco leaves, dried vanilla fruit, and cinnamon. The smoke is always sweet smelling, taking on the aroma of the vanilla and cinnamon more than the actual tobacco.

Drugs: Dabbled in the past, however has been off them since the Liberation.

Alcohol: All the fucking time.

-RP Hooks-

Businessman: Arthur is a businessman and the Co-Owner and Head Honcho of the Crimson Tide Trading Company. He is always looking for new contacts, friends, and especially personnel. His father would be very well known around Ala Mhigan business circles, and his last name would catch attention of those within these circles.

Resistance Fighter: A proud member of the Ala Mhigan resistance movement for over five years, he grew through the ranks to become a Commander of one of the splinter cells of the resistance. He would have been known for leading numerous successful raids and counters against the Empire. His name would not be a unknown one to those who were members of the Resistance, especially those stationed in or around the Peaks, or who fought in the Liberation. He would have been known as the Bardic Commander, a skilled archer and musician who would serenade his troops when they were in the camps, attempting to calm their nerves and garner morale.

Who you gonna call?: His experience from learning void detection and investigation under House Beaudonet has given him the skills and ability to effectively and efficiently investigate and hunt voidsent. This is more of a side job to him, but he is more than willing to look into matters for those in need. If anyone is looking for a case to be solved, or even another investigator is looking for a second pair of eyes or a second blade on a case or hunt, he is open and willing to help.

Musician: He was taught at a young age to play various instruments, by his mother. She was a great performer and he seemed to have a natural knack for it. When she died, he set aside playing music for a while, until he joined the Resistance. There, he became known as the Bardic Commander, a skilled bowman, but most importantly a performer for his fighters, often raising morale when there was little. He always keeps an instrument on his person, just in case.

Red Mage: While he is no master, he is also no novice. His Aether would show his dedication and skill to the practice of red magic. The rapier often at his hip would also be quite telling.

Mercenary: While working as a businessman, he has realized that the world of trading is not quite for him. While he still works with and for a trading company, he has returned to a life of combat as a mercenary. At least in his spare time.

Ala Mhigan Soldier: With the recent outbreak of war, Arthur has returned to the front lines as a soldier for his homeland, Ala Mhigo. From time to time he gets deployed to the field and cannot be reached.

-Contact Information-

Discord: Red=VX9=#8235

Tumblr: @alamhiganbard

If anyone is interested in Rping or something, feel free to contact me. I’m laid back for the most part about being contacted. As for how to better get my attention the fastest, discord. Its on my phone and Tumblr isn’t. Rp in game is preferred, however if you really want to Rp in discord, then just ask first. I am EST, so for those on the west coast, I’m up early and down late for you. But that is no problem on my part, it just might mean that I wont get back to you until the next day. Rp themes for me would fall under the All category. Hope you enjoyed the read, and if you didn’t, that sucks haha!

17 notes · View notes

takerfoxx · 2 years

Text

Jurassic Park 4: Doki Idol Live Festival! (Part 2)

magic5ball submitted:

At first I wasn't sure if I should show this to you, but considering some of the content, I figured you'd want to see this.

For maximum enjoyment, imagine this being narrated by Calliope Mori.

. . .

Chapter 2: This Chapter was Brought to you by Arby’s: We Have the Meats!

The next day, after Mami had left for her exhilarating job at the potato factory, F-Bomb took Lil’ Nagisa to school. School was their kitchen table, because he knew his glorious child would be eaten alive by the brutal Hoikkaido education system. Literally. Cannibalism was a serious problem at Buttanal Elementary, the only school/college in the prefecture.

F-Bomb boldly set his daughter down in her favorite chair: the one made of cheddar cheese that was starting to mold.

“Alright, kiddo, today we’re gonna learn about lying. If anybody asks who Daddy is, my name is Vincent Cannoli, I’m 24 years old, and I eat more Nazis in a single day than the entire state of Israel has in its’ miserable existence. Anyway, I’ve gotta get to work, where nothing that could kill me is happening. Byyyyyeeeeeeee!!!”

F-Bomb sauntered outside wearing red velvet high heels, so nobody would recognize him, but not before giving Lil’ Nagisa a half-eaten potato and a bottle of his used phlegm to play with while he was out.

Looking at her playthings, the little body pillow knew she would follow in her Father’s footsteps and become a Satanist.

Making his way downtown, walking fast, faces passing as he was workbound, F-Bomb pulled out his pistol-tongue, which was also a cell phone.

“Hey Karen? I need your help with something. Long story short, just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in!”

. . .

Following their partner’s letter, A-Hole and D-Bag were sitting at MILF Tiddies, fondling their deep fried hot dogs in a platonic, heterosexual fashion. It was a good thing they were wearing their fake mustaches, otherwise the waitresses would have thought that was weird. Weird they were fondling deep fried hot dogs when they could have been fondling roast beef sandwiches at Arby’s: We have the meats!

“I don’t get it, D-Bag. Why they call this place MILF Tiddies when there’s no MILFs an’ no tiddies?” googled A-Hole, who did not know what either of those words meant six hours ago.

“Call this a precognition, Boss, but I think it’s a ‘lure’ sorta thing. Draw the crowd in with sex, then keep them with the real quality goods. Like that band, Barenaked Ladies.”

“Firstly, youse using that word wrong. A ‘precognition’ is a high class prostitute. I read it in the Urban Dictionary.” He made sure to say this loud enough for the whole café to hear. All three customers.

“Second, what kinda crapsack establishment LIES like that?! Next you’ll tell me they pay these floozies livable wages and give them socialized medical care on the way out! This place is HELL, D-Bag, HELL I-“

A-Hole was cut short by a certain velociraptor in a maid outfit clicking the hammer on his mouth-pistol. This was probably the second most heroic act in the history of the universe.

Then F-Bomb made a fart noise by putting his hand under his armpit and jerking it back and forth. This was velociraptor for ‘Shut up hookers and meet me in the break room.’

. . .

Inside the breakroom was a tall pink haired chick standing in front of a chalkboard. That way, people knew she was cool and smart. She was also wearing a giant inflatable T-Rex costume, because F-Bomb gave it as a Christmas present.

And she didn’t like letting her star employee down.

“What up, deadbeats?” She roared as the trio sauntered in.

F-Bomb squawked “Alright hookers, here’s the deal! This fine specimen of Tyrannosaurus kickassicus standing before us is Karen Demondice, my boss and the manager of this whole operation!”

Karen Demondice was 24 years old, a professional rap artist, music video director, animator, video game enthusiast, and in a homosexual relationship with a piece of fried chicken. But she lost her virginity at Arby’s. Which has the meats.

“We go way back, and like me, she has survived the DILF. Now, I know what you hookers are thinking: ‘Oh, that F-Bomb! He’s being such a little weiner schnitzel! It’s just some stupid idol competition! What could possibly be so bad about that?! There’s no way this could result in long, sleepless nights staring at the ceiling, flashing back to the day you saw one of your closest friends desecrated corpses by the side of the road, legs ripped clean off, ravens pecking out her eyes as SWEET MOE ANIME JESUS IT’S HAPPENING AGAIN! GOD DANG YOU NICO!!!!! GOD DANG YOU STRAIGHT TO THE DEEPEST PITS OF ANIME HELL!!!!!!”

This showed he had not been scarred or meaningfully affected by the DILF in any way shape or form.

A-Hole and D-Bag didn’t care. They were thinking Arby’s. Because they have the meats.

“F-Bomb’s right,” interjected Karen, activating a television. “If you look here, you can see last year’s winner, Baby Metal. Their lead singer, Rick Sanchez, had to eat his fellow idols to win the final round.”

A-Hole and D-Bag grinned like mammals. That sounded awesome as f*ck!

“Why’s that bad?” A-Hole queried “Wes eats da humans alla da time.”

“I think its’ different when they do it, Boss, like, ah, social taboo, or somethin’.”

“And that’s why they’re all NERDS who are GAY!” Realized A-Hole, who was very skilled at connecting the dots.

“Exactly!” Said Karen, who believed in the power of positive reinforcement, lest she be eaten by dinosaurs.

F-Bomb clicked his pistol-tongue again. “Don’t you get it, you idiots?! You don’t f*ck the DILF, the DILF f*cks you!”

Which was fine with A-Hole and D-Bag, who were always down for a quickie, but not so much F-Bomb, who preferred to take things slow and steady before commitment to a partner. A partner like Arby’s. Which has the meats. And, if rumors are to be believed, roast beef sandwiches.

“SECOND!” continued F-Bomb “Would you guys mind explaining this little thing I found on Youtube?!”

A-Hole pulled a laptop out of his A$$. Literally. That’s where dinosaurs store things when they’re too swanky for pockets. He’d also kept it open, because power saving mode is for pussies.

The video had 97 views on YouTube. A great many number. You might even say it had multiple digits. But I can’t dignify it with a description, especially when I could be describing Arby’s, which has the meats.

Boy could I go off on that.

In the time it took me to mention Arby’s (which has the meats), A-Hole had ripped out the laptop’s insides as if it was a feral goat.

“You like? Weze calling ourselves ‘Frankie Valli and the Four Seasonz!’” A-Hole boasted like he’d just named his fourth child.

“YOU CAN’T DO THAT!” F-Bomb eviscerated.

“No, it’s okay! We added a ‘z’ to the end. That way we don’t break the law AND gets the brand recognition! I checked with my best friend, Donald Trump! He’s a genius! Absolutely terrific! Like ‘The Art of the Deal’! Greatest book I ever picked up! Absolutely incredible!”

“No, you floozie! Its because Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons was the name of MY old crew!”

Karen patted his back. Telepathically. The tragic backstory exposition dump could wait for another time.

“ANYWAY,” roared F-Bomb “If we want to hit the big time, we’re gonna need good lyrics. And NO, A-Hole, none of the chuckleheads in the crowd what to hear about you banging Abe Lincoln!”

“Okay, this is gonna sound crazy, but what if we sing about banging Abe Lincoln… consensually?”

Karen interjected “Too late, deadbeats. The banging U.S. presidents consensually fad ended four months ago. JPOP has moved on.”

A-Hole scratched his forehead hard enough to draw blood. Not even the Trumpster’s wildest ramblings had prepared him for this!

“What we need right now is a lyricist, and fortunately, my manager/ former fellow idol Karen here knows just the guy!”

Karen flickered the T.V. to life with her tiny inflatable dinosaur claws. Claws that would have been more useful if she’d gotten them from Arby’s, which has the meats.

The T.V. showed a wrinkly old human wearing tacky Hawaiian shirts.

“Floozies, meet Jimmy Buffett. Probably the single greatest lyricist in the history of music. If anybody could nab us a hit, its’ him!”

“He’s written every hit JPOP song for the past eighty years, AND the lyrics to all my raps.” Added Karen. “Dude was spitting out hits in the WOMB.”

“There’s just one teeny, tiny probelino-“

“He’s doing time in Guantanamo.” Mansplained A-Hole. “Poor idiot parked in the ‘TRUMPS ONLY’ section of Arby’s, which has the meats. I know this, Karen, because my best friend, Donald Trump, wrote about it in his book, ‘The Art of the Deal’. Absolutely terrific piece of literature by the way. Single page gets all the sh!t right off you’re a$$.” He said the last part in a way that implied Karen did, in fact, have a lot of sh!t on her a$$. Which she did, because inflatable dinosaur suits make good portable latrines.

“So here’s the game plan!” Squalled F-Bomb in a most manly fashion, “We Storm Guantanamo! We spring the prisoners! We eat the hookers! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!”

“SIR YES SIR!” Saluted A-Hole, who liked being the passive one in the relationship, platonic or otherwise.

“Not to be that dinosaur, but hows we gonna do that?” Queried D-Bag, who was absolutely being that dinosaur and knew it.

Instead of actually giving him an answer, Karen pulled a McGuffin out of her a$$ and tossed to A-Hole.

“My wife got this magic beanie on ebay, It has the power to summon and control the parrtoheads, who are Jimmy Buffett’s ten most devoted fanboys. The instructions should be inside it.”

F-Bomb put the beanie on his head, and reading the instructions, spun around three times singing

“Deja deja deja du! Believe it and it will come true! Deja deja deja nay! If you siing this song you are GAY?! I didn’t sign up for this!”

But it was too late. Jimmy Buffet’s ten most devout followers had apparationed into the room. Their names were Flandre Scarlet, Gollum, Dinobot, Mewtwo, David, That Chick from Skyrim, Scrooge McDuck, Dream of the Endless, Ironmouse, and Boeing 747. That sounds awesome as f*ck, but they were really just thirtysomething white dudes who had legally changed their names to look good on their resumes. Their resumes for Arby’s, which has the meats. The two exceptions were Ironmouse, who was Puerto Rican, and Boeing 747, who was a plane.

They prostrated themselves before F-Bomb. Yes, even the f*cking plane.

“O Master of the hat!” They cried “What do you wish of us?!”

F-Bomb cracked his neck and grinned like only a dinosaur can.

“Buckle up hookers! We’re flying to Guantanamo!”

Everyone climbed into Boeing 747’s anus.

Except Arby's. We have-

realized just what the hell we're getting into and pulled our sponsorship.

I present this early 2010's-styled crackfic I have been given without commentary, criticism, or judgment, in hopes you too might also join me in staring silently at your computer screens, followed by an equal period spent staring silently at the wall, head empty save for the single lingering question of "Why?"

#submission

0 notes

magic5ball · 2 years

Text

Jurassic Park 4: Doki Idol Live Festival! (2)