hackthis_archive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hackthis_archive) wrote2010-10-18 01:01 pm
hackthis_archive) wrote2010-10-18 01:01 pm
Inquiring minds.
Out of utter curiosity, if I was chained up in your attic (I prefer attics, basements are damp and cold, attics theoretically at least have windows), and I had to write you one story, what would you request? (demand?) Or alternatively, what's something you always hoped I'd write but know is never going to happen?
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Oh man. See, I would have a really hard time picking one fandom, but my favorite fandoms that you write would be… odd to crossover. (Like, what do Brad Colbert and Michael Phelps have to talk about except where to best find clothes for tall dudes or what lotion is best for slapping on after hours in the water? Though maybe they could have a breath-holding competition, I don't know.) Since you're the queen (or tyrant king, or Exalted Imperial Emperor, or whatever title you're going by) of AU's, it would have to be some kind of grand multi-fandom crossover AU scenario. Or swap their settings. Swimming RPF where they have superpowers and fight crime; everyone in GK going to Hogwarts; the Inception team as Olympic athletes and managed by Ari.
Though unrelated, I thought of you when talking with someone about how Tony Stark would be closely monitoring how many people dressed up as Iron Man for Halloween. And how stoked he'd be the first time someone did a parody porno, or how the first Iron Man vibrator will leave him elated for a week
"STEVE! STEVE I'M A SEX TOY!"
"... this is news?"
"NO. NO LIKE WITH SETTINGS. PEPPER. PEPPER, CALL THE COMPANY WE NEED TO LICENSE THIS."
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"STEVE! STEVE I'M A SEX TOY!"
"... this is news?"
"NO. NO LIKE WITH SETTINGS. PEPPER. PEPPER, CALL THE COMPANY WE NEED TO LICENSE THIS."
BEST EVAR! Also, hai, bb? How are you? I was thinking about you when I was in the pool today and like backflip turns? NO FUCKING WAY BITCHES. :D
(You know Brad would meet Michael and be all, "I already have a Ray, you're just taller.")
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You can totally do a backstroke flipturn, you just have to believe in yourself, and possibly have a hard skull. It's like parallel parking! Eventually you stop turning too late or too early.
(Man, see, I would think Ryan would be the Ray there. He wears grills. I have a thousand words hiding on my PC about Ray the breaststroker, Nate the multi-tasking fly and freestyler, Walt the backstroker, and...
Brad, being the Iceman and all that, is clearly a contender for the 1500m free, because you have to be kind of insane to do that race. (Grant Hackett did it in Athens on a collapsed lung and got the gold; I imagine he and Brad could find a lot to talk about.) He'd probably also do the 400m free, and maybe dabble in the 400m IM, because that's the other really grueling race.
...okay, it's late, I'm going to bed.)
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Brad, being the Iceman and all that, is clearly a contender for the 1500m free, because you have to be kind of insane to do that race. (Grant Hackett did it in Athens on a collapsed lung and got the gold; I imagine he and Brad could find a lot to talk about.) He'd probably also do the 400m free, and maybe dabble in the 400m IM, because that's the other really grueling race.
GIVE IT TO ME NOW! GIVE IT TO ME NOW AND I WON'T YELL ABOUT INCEPTION. today. Tomorrow may be another story, but definitely won't yell today.
OMG! OMG! *makes grabby hands* Please?
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"I have a theory that competitive race swimming is the second gayest sports at the Summer Olympics due to its contrasting focuses on individual and team performances, and synchronized swimming is actually contributing to the continuance of the Don't Ask Don't Tell policy," Ray announces, loudly enough that six of the eight nationalities waiting in the pre-race area all look up in some degree of interest or confusion. Apparently Ray has some personal beef with Alain Bernard that means the entire French team does their best to pretend that Ray and anyone associated with him doesn't exist; Nate, Brad, and Walt don't react because they're used to Ray.
"What's the gayest one?" Walt asks eventually, always willing to play straight man to Ray's pre-race antics.
Ray waves a hand in the air. "Water polo, homes, obviously. All that grappling. You know it's just an excuse to grab someone else's junk."
Brad tugs out one earbud, stretches his legs, and does a quick recon of Nate's expression; Nate looks back at him mildly. Unlike Brad, he rarely brings an iPod to listen to before the races, and certainly not during a relay. Nate takes being Team Captain seriously, which means whatever the image he's giving off of being completely focused on his own inner world, he's probably paying attention to everyone else and mentally cataloguing potential things to fix or exploit.
Right now, Nate's not quite smiling, but there's an encouraging tilt to his eyebrows which means Brad is free to contribute and allow Ray to escalate within reason. Nate' s perception of how these things work is why he got pretty much unanimously voted as captain, even though Dave and Craig bitched that he was too young. Fuckers only got their own votes because everyone knows this is their last Games before they're gone.
"I assume there's a link between the two components of your theory," Brad says, throwing his lot in with Walt, and Ray lights up like he's already on the victory stand.
This is Ray's way of blowing off steam, which in turn relaxes Walt, and frankly, Brad gets more than a little mental satisfaction of watching the other teams grind their teeth as they try to wrap their brains around a classic Ray Person monologue. Poke advanced a theory of his own while they were showering once, that Ray was actually more of a driving impetus to the increased number of world records falling than even the polyurethane suits.
"Motor-mouthed little motherfucker, they all want to get in the water and get the fuck away from him and his flapping jaw as fast as they can," Poke had said, "It's a race to the wall because everyone figures that he's got to shut up for at least a while in the water, and the sooner they get there, the sooner they get away from him."
"Don't tell him that," Brad said, "his ego's unmanageable enough as it is."
"We should convince him to switch to backstroke," Nate mused, eyes closed as he tilted his face up to the water and rinsed his hair. "Then he could talk while racing. We could replace the whole record book."
"This is why you're the captain, dawg," Poke had said, and Brad remembers the way Nate had opened his eyes and smiled. And Brad also remembers the way water had beaded in his eyelashes, and run down the cut of his hips right where the sharply delineated line between tanned and pale skin started, and all things considering, thank God for polyurethane suits. Nothing corrals a hard-on like them.
Brad has no time for hard-ons right now. He has to intimidate a room full of athletes, win a third gold medal, and then convince his team captain that they should celebrate the end of swimming events at the Olympics by fucking for as many hours as their taper-honed hormones can endure. A hard-on can only help with two of those things.
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