red braces. wait. what. i am insane. proof in fic.
I was having a moderately shit day at work today, but then I saw a COUPLE of MFB* FIRE RESCUE BLOKES. OH DUDE. I WAS INSTANTLY HAPPY. Their "uniform" (as they call it. I call it a costume) is a bit different from regular firies who have the yellow pants-navy top-red braces combo (which I know and love). Fire Rescue Dudes have heavy-duty brown trousers which look like they're made of blankets and are a bit too big on anyone who wears them. Which is saying something because one of these blokes was hella tall. Hence the need for some SERIOUS RED BRACES ACTION. These red braces were chunkier, I think, than the braces in the other firie costume. But I guess if you require some "Fire Rescue" you'd want as much red braces as possible. OH YES. I could write in caps at you some more, but I think I will instead write a little story to illustrate just how much I love red braces. If such a thing can be measured.
*Melbourne Metropolitan Fire Brigade
Title: For the Love of Red Braces
Pairing: My delightful Mary-Sue character paired with just about everyone. Gary Oldman. Clea Duvall. And all the rest of you.
Rating: PG
Warning: Read if you dare!
Word Count: WTF, 1492?!?!?! I appear to have gone insane.
Disclaimer: Not real. IN CASE YOU COULDN’T TELL.
Author’s Notes: WTF? This is much longer that I anticipated. But writing LOL bad-fic is FUN! I expect no one to read this. Not even a beta. It’s just THAT GOOD. It’s pretty much TEH BEST thing I have ever written and I might as well give up now. ;-P
Author’s Notes II: See also: the relevant LOLmanips of some firefighting hotties.
Summary: It was fairly hot, but then kissing a lady fireman would always be hot, hotter still if the lady fireman is Clea Duvall and is wearing some pretty damn smoking hot red braces.
Jessie Rust-Bucket was lounging in a chair, nibbling on a piece of Taleggio and twirling a knife in her hands. She was wearing a rather attractive pair of 18th Century Whore boots, the frame of a skirt and bustle, through which could be seen a pair of stylish bloomers, stockings and suspenders. She was wearing a strappy, buckled top and a steampunkish leather hat and goggles on her head. Her curly hair was sticking out the back. She was pondering the schism between the online and offline worlds.
Gary Oldman approached. He was dressed as a MFB Fire Rescue Man.
"Hi Jessie Rust-Bucket," he said.
"Hi Gary Oldman," Jessie said.
They looked at each other for a long moment. Jessie eyed Gary's shiny red red braces. They were so red. A deep reddish red that was charmingly offset by the navy of Gary's top. They were thick and chunky. She was willing to wager that they'd feel good to touch. Gary was not bad either. He was Gary Oldman after all and being a sexy bitch was his job.
"Are you playing the role of a Fireman Fire Rescue Dude?" Jessie inquired.
"No," replied Gary. "In this reality, I am actually a Fireman."
"But I thought being a sexy bitch was your full-time job?" exclaimed Jessie, somewhat shocked.
"No, I do that in my spare time," replied Gary.
"Oh right," said Jessie. She nibbled on another small piece of Taleggio. She wondered if she should offer Gary Oldman some Taleggio. But then, maybe he didn't like cheese. She didn't want to risk discovering something as horrid as that about someone she so admired.
"So, ah, Jessie," Gary stammered. He looked nervous. Jessie wondered why.
"Yes, Gary Oldman?" she said.
"I am kinda madlypassionatelyinlovewithyouandwouldlikeyoutomarrymeandimpregnatemewithallyourdemonarsebabiesandfeedmecheesefortherestofourdays." He gulped. "Failing that," he continued. "Would a small amount of ravishing be out of order?"
Jessie pondered. Gary looked nervous. Still.
Eventually, she spoke. "I don't know if I'm ready to commit to demon arse babies and marriage and all that stuff that normal people are meant to do. But a small portion of ravishment would be delightful."
They began. First they kissed. For a hetero kiss between people who more or less identified as male and female (that is, one as a male and one as a female), it was pretty hot. For some of it, Jessie was imagining she was Tim Roth and for some of it, Gary was imagining that he was Tallulah Bankhead, which made for a hotter, queerer experience for both.
They attempted a bit of touching. Tallulah touched Jessie's shoulder. Tim Roth touched Gary's hair. But then reality took over and Jessie found herself overcome with a sudden, urgent, wanton desire. She ran her hands, and then her tongue and mouth, up and down Gary's red braces. She kissed and bit, prodded and pulled, touched and tasted, and a whole lot of other stuff that perhaps cannot be described or, if it can be described, perhaps no one should read it.
Eventually, the red braces came off Gary's body. Jessie and braces were entwined on the floor. Gary took a step backwards, holding up his trousers to stop them from falling down.
"So this is your decision?" he asked Jessie in a small sad voice. He looked at her sadly.
"It is," she said.
Gary walked sadly away. It was sad.
Eventually, Jessie had composed herself, righted her clothing and was seated again on the chair. The red braces were tucked discreetly into Jessie’s steampunkish suitcase. With effort, she steadied her breathing and tried to think of something other than red braces. Jeremy Clarkson’s collection of shirts, for example. Recent former Prime Ministers of Australia. Mini-Chol soy “imitation cheese”. These thoughts were not having the desired effect. Perhaps a cold shower was needed. She had never know a lust so strong. And yet, beneath it, she felt a sure and steady, and also very strong, love. Her head felt light.
She looked up and, to her surprise, she saw Clea Duvall approaching. Clea Duvall was dressed as a MFB Lady Fireman.
“Hi Jessie Rust-Bucket,” Clea Duvall said.
“Hi Clea Duvall,” said Jessie Rust-Bucket.
Jessie looked at Clea’s costume. Bright yellow trousers, navy shirt and beautiful red braces. Jessie couldn’t tear her eyes away.
Eventually she spoke. “So are you performing the role of a Lady Fireman in an upcoming play, or perhaps a film?” she asked Clea.
“No,” said Clea. "In this reality, I am actually a Fire Fighter."
“Oh,” said Jessie. “So you are not a well-admired actor who frequently plays queer characters but has yet to confirm or deny your own lesbianesshood?”
“No,” said Clea. “I am actually a Fire Fighter and I am quite comfortable and open with my bisexuality/pansexuality.”
“Awesome,” said Jessie.
Clea smiled. “So you wanna, like, do some sex? And then afterwards, I could give you a back rub and then cook us dinner. I make a mean potato and Gorgonzola pizza. Then we could watch an episode or two of Doctor Who in which no characters from any sort of minority group (racial, sexual, ability-wise or other) end up dead.”
“Oh sure,” said Jessie, playing it cool. “We could do that. It’s not like I have anything on today.”
And so they began. They did some kissing. It was fairly hot, but then kissing a lady fireman would always be hot, hotter still if the lady fireman is Clea Duvall and is wearing some pretty damn smoking hot red braces. And luckily, in this scenario, she was! So it was pretty hot, if you like that sort of thing.
Then they tried some touching. Clea touched Jessie’s elbow and Jessie touched Clea’s collarbone. Her fingers skated over the red braces and an electric shock shot through her entire body. It wasn’t a real electric shock, don’t worry. It’s not like Clea Duvall had her red braces wired up with some electrical current or anything to try and trick Jessie. Clea was not mean like that. Oh no. It was a metaphorical electric shock, but really it was a shock of lust that ran the length of Jessie’s body, focusing particularly on the area beneath her stylish bloomers.
Jessie found she could not hold herself back from the red braces. She twanged them. She licked them. She fondled them. She caressed them. Eventually, the red braces came off Clea’s body. Jessie and the braces were entwined on the floor. Clea took a step backwards. She had to hold up her trousers with her hand to stop them from falling down.
“So you don’t want to try my potato and Gorgonzola pizza?” Clea said in a small sad voice. She looked at Jessie with sad, but beautiful, but sad, eyes.
“Um,” said Jessie. In between thinking about red braces, she was thinking that she could make her own potato and Gorgonzola pizza. “Um. I’m sorry, Clea.”
Clea walked away sadly. It was sad.
Then, basically, the same thing happened over and over again. A whole heap of people that Jessie found attractive seemed to have joined the Fire Service, put on red braces-themed costumes and came forward to declare their feelings for Jessie Rust-Bucket.
They included, but not limited to: James May, Wolverine, Spike (William the Bloody), Faith, The Doctor in his Ninth incarnation, The Master, Donna Noble, Freema Agyeman, Rose Tyler, Sirius Black, Mick Jagger, David Bowie, Peter Dinklage, Patricia Arquette, Martha Wainwright, Tim Roth, Tilda Swinton, Mr Tumnus, Andy Gallagher, Ash (Dr. Badass), Sam and Dean Winchester (together), Connor and Murphy McManus (again, together), Tegan and Sara (also, together), Fred and George Weasley (Jessie was beginning to wonder if she was a sibling magnet), Simon Tam, River Tam (they were separate, so Jessie stopped worrying), Jayne Cobb, Kaylee Frye, Ian Henderson (a faun in red braces was a fine sight, Jessie discovered!), The Stig, Robert Smith, T-Rex, Gene Hunt, Sam Tyler, Julian Barratt, Mike Fielding, Vince Noir, Dave Brown, Mia Dyson, Richard Roxburgh, Billy Boyd, Johnny Depp, David Wenham, Eugene Hurtz, Penny Wong, also Oliver (the car), and The Impala (the declarations of both cars being a sight which defies description, needless to say they were cute and hot respectively, and resistance was difficult), also various members of Johnnypurple’s Jessie Rust-Bucket’s flist for whom Jessie had oft found herself secretly admiring from afar.
She considered it strange, because she hadn’t even done her hair that morning or even drunk anything alcoholic, which is what was usually required for first-time sexy fun times with a new person. However she found herself - often against her will or better judgement - rejecting person after faun after car after person after vampire after person after wolverine after little person after alien after dinosaur after person after siblings.
At the end of a long night, Jessie Rust-Bucket was alone. She looked down at her steampunkish suitcase and smiled. It was filled with a delicious tangle of red braces. Too many to count but not too many to love. She sighed, contented.
The End.
*Melbourne Metropolitan Fire Brigade
Title: For the Love of Red Braces
Pairing: My delightful Mary-Sue character paired with just about everyone. Gary Oldman. Clea Duvall. And all the rest of you.
Rating: PG
Warning: Read if you dare!
Word Count: WTF, 1492?!?!?! I appear to have gone insane.
Disclaimer: Not real. IN CASE YOU COULDN’T TELL.
Author’s Notes: WTF? This is much longer that I anticipated. But writing LOL bad-fic is FUN! I expect no one to read this. Not even a beta. It’s just THAT GOOD. It’s pretty much TEH BEST thing I have ever written and I might as well give up now. ;-P
Author’s Notes II: See also: the relevant LOLmanips of some firefighting hotties.
Summary: It was fairly hot, but then kissing a lady fireman would always be hot, hotter still if the lady fireman is Clea Duvall and is wearing some pretty damn smoking hot red braces.
Jessie Rust-Bucket was lounging in a chair, nibbling on a piece of Taleggio and twirling a knife in her hands. She was wearing a rather attractive pair of 18th Century Whore boots, the frame of a skirt and bustle, through which could be seen a pair of stylish bloomers, stockings and suspenders. She was wearing a strappy, buckled top and a steampunkish leather hat and goggles on her head. Her curly hair was sticking out the back. She was pondering the schism between the online and offline worlds.
Gary Oldman approached. He was dressed as a MFB Fire Rescue Man.
"Hi Jessie Rust-Bucket," he said.
"Hi Gary Oldman," Jessie said.
They looked at each other for a long moment. Jessie eyed Gary's shiny red red braces. They were so red. A deep reddish red that was charmingly offset by the navy of Gary's top. They were thick and chunky. She was willing to wager that they'd feel good to touch. Gary was not bad either. He was Gary Oldman after all and being a sexy bitch was his job.
"Are you playing the role of a Fireman Fire Rescue Dude?" Jessie inquired.
"No," replied Gary. "In this reality, I am actually a Fireman."
"But I thought being a sexy bitch was your full-time job?" exclaimed Jessie, somewhat shocked.
"No, I do that in my spare time," replied Gary.
"Oh right," said Jessie. She nibbled on another small piece of Taleggio. She wondered if she should offer Gary Oldman some Taleggio. But then, maybe he didn't like cheese. She didn't want to risk discovering something as horrid as that about someone she so admired.
"So, ah, Jessie," Gary stammered. He looked nervous. Jessie wondered why.
"Yes, Gary Oldman?" she said.
"I am kinda madlypassionatelyinlovewithyouandwouldlikeyoutomarrymeandimpregnatemewithallyourdemonarsebabiesandfeedmecheesefortherestofourdays." He gulped. "Failing that," he continued. "Would a small amount of ravishing be out of order?"
Jessie pondered. Gary looked nervous. Still.
Eventually, she spoke. "I don't know if I'm ready to commit to demon arse babies and marriage and all that stuff that normal people are meant to do. But a small portion of ravishment would be delightful."
They began. First they kissed. For a hetero kiss between people who more or less identified as male and female (that is, one as a male and one as a female), it was pretty hot. For some of it, Jessie was imagining she was Tim Roth and for some of it, Gary was imagining that he was Tallulah Bankhead, which made for a hotter, queerer experience for both.
They attempted a bit of touching. Tallulah touched Jessie's shoulder. Tim Roth touched Gary's hair. But then reality took over and Jessie found herself overcome with a sudden, urgent, wanton desire. She ran her hands, and then her tongue and mouth, up and down Gary's red braces. She kissed and bit, prodded and pulled, touched and tasted, and a whole lot of other stuff that perhaps cannot be described or, if it can be described, perhaps no one should read it.
Eventually, the red braces came off Gary's body. Jessie and braces were entwined on the floor. Gary took a step backwards, holding up his trousers to stop them from falling down.
"So this is your decision?" he asked Jessie in a small sad voice. He looked at her sadly.
"It is," she said.
Gary walked sadly away. It was sad.
Eventually, Jessie had composed herself, righted her clothing and was seated again on the chair. The red braces were tucked discreetly into Jessie’s steampunkish suitcase. With effort, she steadied her breathing and tried to think of something other than red braces. Jeremy Clarkson’s collection of shirts, for example. Recent former Prime Ministers of Australia. Mini-Chol soy “imitation cheese”. These thoughts were not having the desired effect. Perhaps a cold shower was needed. She had never know a lust so strong. And yet, beneath it, she felt a sure and steady, and also very strong, love. Her head felt light.
She looked up and, to her surprise, she saw Clea Duvall approaching. Clea Duvall was dressed as a MFB Lady Fireman.
“Hi Jessie Rust-Bucket,” Clea Duvall said.
“Hi Clea Duvall,” said Jessie Rust-Bucket.
Jessie looked at Clea’s costume. Bright yellow trousers, navy shirt and beautiful red braces. Jessie couldn’t tear her eyes away.
Eventually she spoke. “So are you performing the role of a Lady Fireman in an upcoming play, or perhaps a film?” she asked Clea.
“No,” said Clea. "In this reality, I am actually a Fire Fighter."
“Oh,” said Jessie. “So you are not a well-admired actor who frequently plays queer characters but has yet to confirm or deny your own lesbianesshood?”
“No,” said Clea. “I am actually a Fire Fighter and I am quite comfortable and open with my bisexuality/pansexuality.”
“Awesome,” said Jessie.
Clea smiled. “So you wanna, like, do some sex? And then afterwards, I could give you a back rub and then cook us dinner. I make a mean potato and Gorgonzola pizza. Then we could watch an episode or two of Doctor Who in which no characters from any sort of minority group (racial, sexual, ability-wise or other) end up dead.”
“Oh sure,” said Jessie, playing it cool. “We could do that. It’s not like I have anything on today.”
And so they began. They did some kissing. It was fairly hot, but then kissing a lady fireman would always be hot, hotter still if the lady fireman is Clea Duvall and is wearing some pretty damn smoking hot red braces. And luckily, in this scenario, she was! So it was pretty hot, if you like that sort of thing.
Then they tried some touching. Clea touched Jessie’s elbow and Jessie touched Clea’s collarbone. Her fingers skated over the red braces and an electric shock shot through her entire body. It wasn’t a real electric shock, don’t worry. It’s not like Clea Duvall had her red braces wired up with some electrical current or anything to try and trick Jessie. Clea was not mean like that. Oh no. It was a metaphorical electric shock, but really it was a shock of lust that ran the length of Jessie’s body, focusing particularly on the area beneath her stylish bloomers.
Jessie found she could not hold herself back from the red braces. She twanged them. She licked them. She fondled them. She caressed them. Eventually, the red braces came off Clea’s body. Jessie and the braces were entwined on the floor. Clea took a step backwards. She had to hold up her trousers with her hand to stop them from falling down.
“So you don’t want to try my potato and Gorgonzola pizza?” Clea said in a small sad voice. She looked at Jessie with sad, but beautiful, but sad, eyes.
“Um,” said Jessie. In between thinking about red braces, she was thinking that she could make her own potato and Gorgonzola pizza. “Um. I’m sorry, Clea.”
Clea walked away sadly. It was sad.
Then, basically, the same thing happened over and over again. A whole heap of people that Jessie found attractive seemed to have joined the Fire Service, put on red braces-themed costumes and came forward to declare their feelings for Jessie Rust-Bucket.
They included, but not limited to: James May, Wolverine, Spike (William the Bloody), Faith, The Doctor in his Ninth incarnation, The Master, Donna Noble, Freema Agyeman, Rose Tyler, Sirius Black, Mick Jagger, David Bowie, Peter Dinklage, Patricia Arquette, Martha Wainwright, Tim Roth, Tilda Swinton, Mr Tumnus, Andy Gallagher, Ash (Dr. Badass), Sam and Dean Winchester (together), Connor and Murphy McManus (again, together), Tegan and Sara (also, together), Fred and George Weasley (Jessie was beginning to wonder if she was a sibling magnet), Simon Tam, River Tam (they were separate, so Jessie stopped worrying), Jayne Cobb, Kaylee Frye, Ian Henderson (a faun in red braces was a fine sight, Jessie discovered!), The Stig, Robert Smith, T-Rex, Gene Hunt, Sam Tyler, Julian Barratt, Mike Fielding, Vince Noir, Dave Brown, Mia Dyson, Richard Roxburgh, Billy Boyd, Johnny Depp, David Wenham, Eugene Hurtz, Penny Wong, also Oliver (the car), and The Impala (the declarations of both cars being a sight which defies description, needless to say they were cute and hot respectively, and resistance was difficult), also various members of Johnnypurple’s Jessie Rust-Bucket’s flist for whom Jessie had oft found herself secretly admiring from afar.
She considered it strange, because she hadn’t even done her hair that morning or even drunk anything alcoholic, which is what was usually required for first-time sexy fun times with a new person. However she found herself - often against her will or better judgement - rejecting person after faun after car after person after vampire after person after wolverine after little person after alien after dinosaur after person after siblings.
At the end of a long night, Jessie Rust-Bucket was alone. She looked down at her steampunkish suitcase and smiled. It was filled with a delicious tangle of red braces. Too many to count but not too many to love. She sighed, contented.
The End.