(no subject)
Well, I'm still writing it, but it is no longer my bandomficathon fic. I'm probably going to get into trouble for that, but I really can't help it. I hit a wall with it and decided to write Bob/Brian fake!real!boyfriends instead.
But here's a snippet of the former anyway:
By the time Sandy, the twenty-something secretary that always stares at Bob with these big moon-eyes, has dropped off their lattes, tossed her hair at Bob and been publicly humiliated by Jamia’s leering at the aforementioned hair-tossing, Jon has read through the novel-length e-mail that Seymour Barnabus, the CEO, sent regarding the current situation.
“Fuck,” he hisses, downing a mouthful of his venti white mocha. Jamia takes a prim sip of her own drink and glances over at him.
“Too hot, Walker?” she smirks, and Jon glares at her. She laughs, which kind of detracts from Jon making his serious face, but whatever, Jamia never takes him seriously anyway.
“According to Seems, those protestors are all pissed off about our project,” he states grimly. Bob swears under his breath and reaches up to press at his temples, and Jon gives him a look. Bob dutifully ignores it, which is pretty much par for the course with Bob, but that doesn’t stop Jon and Jamia from sharing an inquisitive glance. Bob is usually a mountain in the face of adversity, preferring to remain stoic and fucking scary until he’s sure there aren’t going to be anymore problems. It’s kind of strange to see him so obviously…worried isn’t the right word, but he’s definitely concerned about something that’s going on, and Bob showing any amount of personal investment in a Barnabus crisis is really weird and mildly alarming.
“Uh,” Jon starts, pausing to clear his throat before forging ahead in his explanation of what’s going on, “so, anyway. Apparently they want to keep the land that the old Miller warehouse is on as part of a wildlife conservation program meets youth center instead of using it for the new building that Barnabus is going to put up.” He frowns and looks up at Bob and Jamia, adding, “But that doesn’t make any sense. We’re building for Reynolds and Company, not expanding Barnabus.”
Jamia furrows her brow and nods a bit in acquiescence. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “Shouldn’t they be hammering down Reynolds’ doors and not ours?”
Bob sighs, long-suffering and exasperated, and mutters, “They probably are, but while Reynolds is the one that technically holds the deeds and papers, we’re the ones who’re going to be tearing up the property. Even if they can get Reynolds to agree to forget the project, that won’t do anything to make Barnabus stop building up until we’re told to stop, and by that time the entire property could be destroyed.”
Jon and Jamia openly stare, because Bob doesn’t get verbose like this unless something is weighing heavily on his mind. As far as Jon remembers, the last time Bob had talked so much was when Dixie had canine pneumonia. That was not a good week in the office.
“What?” Bob spits gruffly. Jamia shakes her head and Jon holds his hands up in a gesture of mercy, turning his attention back to the screen of his Macbook.
In other, non-bandom related news: my teacher nicknamed me "Powerhouse" in class today, which was kind of flattering but also mildly embarrassing because it's a class of six or so kids so I feel really awkward having attention drawn to me. But whatever, class was fun, I continue to love life drawing, and I'm wearing two pairs of pants.
Yeah, you heard me. Two pairs of pants. Or, well, actually sweatpants with leggings and mid-calf-high Christmas socks, but whatever! Totally the same gist, yeah? It's taking auxiliary heat just to keep the temperature in my apartment at 65, yo. This shit is ridiculous. I'm from the desert. Never before in my life have I had to wear two pairs of pants, a scarf, a hat, and a jacket before going across the street to get into my friend's car to drive the block and a half to class. I'm not really sure what to do with myself, as I don't deal well with cold. :/
Speaking of cold! I had a most alarming dream last night. It centered around a young man - and his trusty dog - who was living in a futuristic time where all power across the world had cut out and God had apparently announced that he was going to enact another natural disaster on par with Noah's flood. Except that this time, he was going to unleash a blizzard on the entire planet. Anyway, this kid - who is technically not a kid as he is like, 25, but whatever - says his prayers with his family, who are all devout and going to be put into like, a sleeping spell for the deep freeze. And the kid decides that instead of going into that cryogenic state he'd rather just prepare himself for some serious camping and take his dog out and rough it on the frozen tundra that God creates. He explains it to his family, who is severely against this horrible idea, by telling them that God wanted people to live, and to experience things, and he wants to really do that. He's pretty sure the Big Guy is backing him on this, but his family remains unconvinced. Anyway, they go into their little slumber and he digs himself out of the house after the first snow starts to pile up. And then I sort of watched him while he was on his adventure for a while, but a girl from one of my classes showed up and then I had to recap her so I lost track of him when he fell through some ice. I'm pretty sure he was okay, though.
So I woke up at like, 4 o'clock this morning, took a shower, had a bowl of cereal, the usual morning routine. Except that apparently sleep deprived!Becca equals ridiculously paranoid!Becca. I heard what turned out to be the garbage truck - didn't know that at the time! - and thought someone was trying to break into the house, so I spent a good half an hour wandering around in the wee morning hours carrying a serrated kitchen knife.
And now my crazy next door neighbors are threatening to beat each other to death. God I love hillbillies.
Have a great day, duckies, and tell me how life is going, yeah? Sorry I'm kind of out of commission atm, but there isn't much I can do at present moment. (Oh Lordy, somebody's going to get shot. This shit is awesome.)
ILYGUISE.
♥ Becca
But here's a snippet of the former anyway:
By the time Sandy, the twenty-something secretary that always stares at Bob with these big moon-eyes, has dropped off their lattes, tossed her hair at Bob and been publicly humiliated by Jamia’s leering at the aforementioned hair-tossing, Jon has read through the novel-length e-mail that Seymour Barnabus, the CEO, sent regarding the current situation.
“Fuck,” he hisses, downing a mouthful of his venti white mocha. Jamia takes a prim sip of her own drink and glances over at him.
“Too hot, Walker?” she smirks, and Jon glares at her. She laughs, which kind of detracts from Jon making his serious face, but whatever, Jamia never takes him seriously anyway.
“According to Seems, those protestors are all pissed off about our project,” he states grimly. Bob swears under his breath and reaches up to press at his temples, and Jon gives him a look. Bob dutifully ignores it, which is pretty much par for the course with Bob, but that doesn’t stop Jon and Jamia from sharing an inquisitive glance. Bob is usually a mountain in the face of adversity, preferring to remain stoic and fucking scary until he’s sure there aren’t going to be anymore problems. It’s kind of strange to see him so obviously…worried isn’t the right word, but he’s definitely concerned about something that’s going on, and Bob showing any amount of personal investment in a Barnabus crisis is really weird and mildly alarming.
“Uh,” Jon starts, pausing to clear his throat before forging ahead in his explanation of what’s going on, “so, anyway. Apparently they want to keep the land that the old Miller warehouse is on as part of a wildlife conservation program meets youth center instead of using it for the new building that Barnabus is going to put up.” He frowns and looks up at Bob and Jamia, adding, “But that doesn’t make any sense. We’re building for Reynolds and Company, not expanding Barnabus.”
Jamia furrows her brow and nods a bit in acquiescence. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “Shouldn’t they be hammering down Reynolds’ doors and not ours?”
Bob sighs, long-suffering and exasperated, and mutters, “They probably are, but while Reynolds is the one that technically holds the deeds and papers, we’re the ones who’re going to be tearing up the property. Even if they can get Reynolds to agree to forget the project, that won’t do anything to make Barnabus stop building up until we’re told to stop, and by that time the entire property could be destroyed.”
Jon and Jamia openly stare, because Bob doesn’t get verbose like this unless something is weighing heavily on his mind. As far as Jon remembers, the last time Bob had talked so much was when Dixie had canine pneumonia. That was not a good week in the office.
“What?” Bob spits gruffly. Jamia shakes her head and Jon holds his hands up in a gesture of mercy, turning his attention back to the screen of his Macbook.
In other, non-bandom related news: my teacher nicknamed me "Powerhouse" in class today, which was kind of flattering but also mildly embarrassing because it's a class of six or so kids so I feel really awkward having attention drawn to me. But whatever, class was fun, I continue to love life drawing, and I'm wearing two pairs of pants.
Yeah, you heard me. Two pairs of pants. Or, well, actually sweatpants with leggings and mid-calf-high Christmas socks, but whatever! Totally the same gist, yeah? It's taking auxiliary heat just to keep the temperature in my apartment at 65, yo. This shit is ridiculous. I'm from the desert. Never before in my life have I had to wear two pairs of pants, a scarf, a hat, and a jacket before going across the street to get into my friend's car to drive the block and a half to class. I'm not really sure what to do with myself, as I don't deal well with cold. :/
Speaking of cold! I had a most alarming dream last night. It centered around a young man - and his trusty dog - who was living in a futuristic time where all power across the world had cut out and God had apparently announced that he was going to enact another natural disaster on par with Noah's flood. Except that this time, he was going to unleash a blizzard on the entire planet. Anyway, this kid - who is technically not a kid as he is like, 25, but whatever - says his prayers with his family, who are all devout and going to be put into like, a sleeping spell for the deep freeze. And the kid decides that instead of going into that cryogenic state he'd rather just prepare himself for some serious camping and take his dog out and rough it on the frozen tundra that God creates. He explains it to his family, who is severely against this horrible idea, by telling them that God wanted people to live, and to experience things, and he wants to really do that. He's pretty sure the Big Guy is backing him on this, but his family remains unconvinced. Anyway, they go into their little slumber and he digs himself out of the house after the first snow starts to pile up. And then I sort of watched him while he was on his adventure for a while, but a girl from one of my classes showed up and then I had to recap her so I lost track of him when he fell through some ice. I'm pretty sure he was okay, though.
So I woke up at like, 4 o'clock this morning, took a shower, had a bowl of cereal, the usual morning routine. Except that apparently sleep deprived!Becca equals ridiculously paranoid!Becca. I heard what turned out to be the garbage truck - didn't know that at the time! - and thought someone was trying to break into the house, so I spent a good half an hour wandering around in the wee morning hours carrying a serrated kitchen knife.
And now my crazy next door neighbors are threatening to beat each other to death. God I love hillbillies.
Have a great day, duckies, and tell me how life is going, yeah? Sorry I'm kind of out of commission atm, but there isn't much I can do at present moment. (Oh Lordy, somebody's going to get shot. This shit is awesome.)
ILYGUISE.
♥ Becca