No Matter How Many Years Stretch By, So Long As Both Of Us Are Alive, There Is Still A Chance My Father
no matter how many years stretch by, so long as both of us are alive, there is still a chance my father will permit me to die in his memory as something other than his daughter. that permission means he will die as something other than his father’s son. something better. something kinder.
in the ether of my mind, no matter which way it goes, we will meet on the other side. he will be twenty, thirty, again, trying to light a cigarette. i will stop, and hold out my lighter. the flame will dance; offering. it is up to him if he takes it.
there are theories that the self is all there is; the self is the universe’s entire consciousness, that you have been and will be every single person and thing in all of existence. all i know is that i keep my lighter forever topped-up with fuel. if i meet my father, on this corner or the next or the one after that, i will keep offering. in one of these worlds, on one of these corners, he accepts. in one of these worlds, we exhale plumes of tobacco smoke, soothing ourselves with nicotine as the world around us melts, warping into the open flame of the zippo.
in one of these worlds, we stand on the corner, watching the cars drive past, and my father walks down to a payphone and calls his father. when he hangs up after the first ring, i pick the receiver up. the operator asks where i’d like to call; tells me i paid for five minutes’ conversation. i stub my cigarette out underneath the keypad and tell her nevermind.
in the distance, the lights of a church basement glow up through barred windows at us. in another world, my father and i sit side by side, and pick up 24-hour chips, and drink shitty coffee. in another world, my father and i wear nicotine patches and lay brick. in another world, when i pick up the payphone, the operator informs me time is out on this receiver. please insert a quarter.
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i love bra’ad so much because in all the dnd i’ve played/watched/etc no character has ever captured gay panic so effectively.
while we’re talking about Charlie’s propensity for gay roleplay, here’s one of my favorite Br’aad moments.
sometimes healing your inner child is illegally registering for your local library’s summer reading challenge. personally i think all of you need a librarian acquaintance who will help you falsify documents.
writing porn is so hard. like. idk they hold hands. they yearn. he nuts in her. what do you want from me.
“i hold on with my stone-strong ass.”
“i reach up and slap his ass.”
“it’s rock hard and there’s no jiggle.”
-br’aad and taxi, episode 10
wonderful art @abbagine made during our jerwee Fated watch today, for the love of god get this man a belt
EDIT: they added more
need my friends who dont date men to stop being so weird when other people like men. told my friends abt the guy im seeing and their first response was "oh no its a man i thought you liked women" LIKE WEVE BEEN OVER THIS IM A FUCKING FAG I LIKE WOMEN AS WELL AS MEN AND WHATEVER ELSE CAN YOU NOT BE A DICK FOR LIKE 10 SECONDS PLEASE AND THANK YOU
i got two genres of comment responses on my fics it seems
“thabk u smm!!!! imm so glad u liked! ty-ty 4 the kudos!”
and
“anger is more comfortable than fear, in that way, because it washes away all insecurity; becoming a boiling, red-hot tide. ‘i am right and you are wrong’ is comforting to say, especially for children, who rarely get to be right in a world of grown-ups… that i’m-right-you’re-wrong sentiment quickly becomes: “i am better and you are lesser. i am normal and you are the freak. i deserve more, and you deserve less.” and the kids act that way with impunity, because their guardians never provide correction to that instinct and behavior path… because they’re just as scared.”
okay so turns out me obsessively drawing and thinking about br'aad for 2 days non-stop was not me just being "silly with it" but i am in fact on my period instead😔
braxxi but make it,,,, women!?
also some bonus stuff i drew a couple months ago, translating designs my beloved
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