It's got CUTE BOYS. And CATS.
Quite a while ago I started to write a Brad/Ray fic about them coming home from war and dealing with real life again. I started it in my notebook (like, with actual paper and ink), and scribbled maybe 800 words of Brad being emo and missing Ray. This was a few months ago. This week I decided to keep going with it, and I've got twenty million ideas and I've been writing bits all out of order and I've got this huge arc and it's going to be about six hundred million words (I'm currently up to 3000, so I have a ways to go). But I just reread the transcript of those original 800 and realised that in my infinite wisdom I had decide to write it in present tense, and the other 2200 or so are all in past tense.
SIGH.
I hate converting tense. HATE IT. It's boring and nothing will make me open up LJ and start doing something else quicker than having to go through every sentence and change 'is' to 'was', 'darts' to 'darted'. 'sees' to 'saw'. SIGH.
(This is the drunk-dialing story, by the way. Other things that happen in this story include - Walt gets married (TO A LADY!) and Ray is fluent in Ancient Greek. I am feeling very creative).
Also, I'm trying my hand at writing Nate, and having him (or the idea of him) be a bit of a catalyst for Brad and Ray's relationship. In my mind, Nate is like Hector from The Iliad, noble and brave and too perfect to really exist. Brad and Ray love him. But not like that, which is very important for this story. It's kind of intimidating.
Anyway, everyone has posted story snippets in the last couple days, so here's my contribution.
He was listening to the phone ring before he even realised he’d pressed the button.
“Brad? What the fuck?”
Brad was slightly thrown, until he remembered the concept of caller ID. Way too much whiskey. He rubbed his eyes, moment of clarity long gone.
“Ray. Ray, it’s me.”
Ray’s pissiness seemed to vibrate right through the phone, and Brad felt himself start to relax for the first time since he’d been home.
“Yeah, I’ve established that, homes, I’m a fucking recon Marine. Any fucking reason why you’ve chosen to call me at fuck-you-o'clock in the morning?” He paused and his voice sobered. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing, nothing’s happened,” Brad said, and cursed himself. He should have known Ray would expect the worst. “I just wanted to call and…” And what, Brad. He squeezed his eyes closed, head swimming. “And call.”
“Are you serious? What, you just wanted to call and hear my voice? I’m goddamned honoured, Iceman, I’m sure if it wasn’t two am I’d be jumping for joy and everything.”
Brad heard the flick of a lighter and then a long inhale as Ray lit up. “You smoking in bed, Ray?”
“Fuckin’ A I am, Brad. You’re lucky that’s all I’m doing. I could have been getting laid in here for all you know.”
Brad felt a pang at that, and consciously chose to ignore it. “You wouldn’t have answered the phone in the highly unlikely case of you actually getting laid,” he said, and listened with interest to the way his voice was slurring. He gazed up at the sky, phone pressed against his cheek, and tried to see if he could catch the moon in motion.
“Wait, are you drunk?” Ray asked, sounding highly amused at this turn of events. Brad squinted one eye shut, he wasn’t sure if the moon was moving or just the clouds around it.
“No I’m not drunk,” he said, lying blatantly. Ray laughed.
“You are! You fucking drunk dialled me, that’s precious.” Brad could hear him shifting around in bed, juggling the phone around. “What, did your finger slip when you tried to call the LT?”
Brad thought about that for a second, thought about calling Nate when he was like this. The idea of Nate seeing anything other than the best of him made him want to cringe. Nate was a man you stood up straight for. Nate brought out the good in everyone, he made Brad want to be a better soldier, a better person.
Ray just made Brad want to be Brad. Warts and all.
“No,” he said slowly, “No, I definitely wanted to talk to you, Ray.”
So that's happening.
In other news, I'm going to the footy tonight (Saints v Pies, if my boys lose I'm stepping in front of a bus) with my Grandma, who's visiting from Adelaide. This is going to be an...experience, because Gramma bought us tickets for the COLLINGWOOD supporters section and there is no way in hell I'm going to a St Kilda match without wearing my colours and screaming for my team. So there's a CHANCE I might be mauled by rabid Pies fans tonight. If that happens, I want you to know that I love you all, and I regret nothing.
Also, ethrosdemon linked to the best website ever created cute boys with cats. I am spending the rest of my LIFE there, omg. So great.
I'm formulating the first we_pimpin post in my mind. I have a feeling we should start things off with a bang, right? How does and epic picspam party post sound? The simple things are always best, after all. But I'll wait until we've got a header and stuff, first. And if anyone can think of anything else to put in the user info, any affiliates etc, let me know. OH, also I want to put together a giant Ray/anyone rec list, so if you all want to email me your favourite Ray-Ray fics, please do!
--Beck
SIGH.
I hate converting tense. HATE IT. It's boring and nothing will make me open up LJ and start doing something else quicker than having to go through every sentence and change 'is' to 'was', 'darts' to 'darted'. 'sees' to 'saw'. SIGH.
(This is the drunk-dialing story, by the way. Other things that happen in this story include - Walt gets married (TO A LADY!) and Ray is fluent in Ancient Greek. I am feeling very creative).
Also, I'm trying my hand at writing Nate, and having him (or the idea of him) be a bit of a catalyst for Brad and Ray's relationship. In my mind, Nate is like Hector from The Iliad, noble and brave and too perfect to really exist. Brad and Ray love him. But not like that, which is very important for this story. It's kind of intimidating.
Anyway, everyone has posted story snippets in the last couple days, so here's my contribution.
He was listening to the phone ring before he even realised he’d pressed the button.
“Brad? What the fuck?”
Brad was slightly thrown, until he remembered the concept of caller ID. Way too much whiskey. He rubbed his eyes, moment of clarity long gone.
“Ray. Ray, it’s me.”
Ray’s pissiness seemed to vibrate right through the phone, and Brad felt himself start to relax for the first time since he’d been home.
“Yeah, I’ve established that, homes, I’m a fucking recon Marine. Any fucking reason why you’ve chosen to call me at fuck-you-o'clock in the morning?” He paused and his voice sobered. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing, nothing’s happened,” Brad said, and cursed himself. He should have known Ray would expect the worst. “I just wanted to call and…” And what, Brad. He squeezed his eyes closed, head swimming. “And call.”
“Are you serious? What, you just wanted to call and hear my voice? I’m goddamned honoured, Iceman, I’m sure if it wasn’t two am I’d be jumping for joy and everything.”
Brad heard the flick of a lighter and then a long inhale as Ray lit up. “You smoking in bed, Ray?”
“Fuckin’ A I am, Brad. You’re lucky that’s all I’m doing. I could have been getting laid in here for all you know.”
Brad felt a pang at that, and consciously chose to ignore it. “You wouldn’t have answered the phone in the highly unlikely case of you actually getting laid,” he said, and listened with interest to the way his voice was slurring. He gazed up at the sky, phone pressed against his cheek, and tried to see if he could catch the moon in motion.
“Wait, are you drunk?” Ray asked, sounding highly amused at this turn of events. Brad squinted one eye shut, he wasn’t sure if the moon was moving or just the clouds around it.
“No I’m not drunk,” he said, lying blatantly. Ray laughed.
“You are! You fucking drunk dialled me, that’s precious.” Brad could hear him shifting around in bed, juggling the phone around. “What, did your finger slip when you tried to call the LT?”
Brad thought about that for a second, thought about calling Nate when he was like this. The idea of Nate seeing anything other than the best of him made him want to cringe. Nate was a man you stood up straight for. Nate brought out the good in everyone, he made Brad want to be a better soldier, a better person.
Ray just made Brad want to be Brad. Warts and all.
“No,” he said slowly, “No, I definitely wanted to talk to you, Ray.”
So that's happening.
In other news, I'm going to the footy tonight (Saints v Pies, if my boys lose I'm stepping in front of a bus) with my Grandma, who's visiting from Adelaide. This is going to be an...experience, because Gramma bought us tickets for the COLLINGWOOD supporters section and there is no way in hell I'm going to a St Kilda match without wearing my colours and screaming for my team. So there's a CHANCE I might be mauled by rabid Pies fans tonight. If that happens, I want you to know that I love you all, and I regret nothing.
Also, ethrosdemon linked to the best website ever created cute boys with cats. I am spending the rest of my LIFE there, omg. So great.
I'm formulating the first we_pimpin post in my mind. I have a feeling we should start things off with a bang, right? How does and epic picspam party post sound? The simple things are always best, after all. But I'll wait until we've got a header and stuff, first. And if anyone can think of anything else to put in the user info, any affiliates etc, let me know. OH, also I want to put together a giant Ray/anyone rec list, so if you all want to email me your favourite Ray-Ray fics, please do!
--Beck