Anonymous asked:
Hey Doc, merry Christmas! 🎄 speaking of Christmas, could you do a short Bechloe story where the Bellas do secret Santa and they end up getting each other?
More you might like
asweetmelodytrickling answered:
Bechloe Christmas 2018 Masterpost
Day 23 - Bechloe - ‘Secret Santa’
Beca jumped out of her skin as she heard a hand-bell being rung loudly up the stairs of The Bellas House, closely followed by Fat Amy’s voice bellowing from the bottom:
“Secret Santa Present time!!”
The brunette furrowed her brow glancing to her right. There Chloe sat beside her, in Christmas pyjamas, looking just as confused. They never opened Secret Santa presents before Christmas. In fact, The Bellas all opened their Secret Santa gifts when they were back home with their own families.
She watched as Chloe shrugged then slid off the edge of the bed, and Beca followed her, the two co-Captains slowly making their way to the door of Chloe’s bedroom and stepping out. They were met by Stacie who simply grinned at them while dashing excitably from her bedroom to the stairs, chiming out a playful “Race you!” before dashing down to the lounge.
Beca and Chloe glanced at one another then made their way downstairs. The sound of the others Bellas gathering made Beca feel all the more confused. Why were they getting together for ‘Secret Santa Presents’?? Was it to just hand them out so they all remembered to take them home for Christmas?
But as she turned the corner and saw her friends knelt around a pile of presents in the middle of the room, her stomach sank. There was something bigger happening here..
“Shawshank, this one’s yours.”
Beca took the gift held out to her by Fat Amy and was internally panicking so much that they were going to have to open their gifts in front of The Bellas that she didn’t notice the colour fall from Chloe’s face. Because Chloe had also been handed her gift. And she’d also realised what was about to happen.
The brunette looked awkwardly at the present in Chloe’s hands. The present she’d provided. The present that wasn’t for anyone’s eyes but Chloe’s. Her heart began to thump against her chest. Here’s hoping none of The Bellas honed in on it once it was opened..
Ten minutes of present unwrapping later and Flo had a beautiful scarf, Stacie had a new pair of fluffy handcuffs, Cynthia Rose had a pack of brand new sketching pencils, and Fat Amy had a set of luxury hot chocolate mixes.
Beca hesitated as The Bellas all turned to Chloe, and the redhead slowly opened her present from ‘Santa’. Her face immediately flushed as she read the front of the small booklet she’d just unwrapped and Beca felt like throwing her face into her hands in embarrassment.
“Sex vouchers??” Fat Amy read loudly, having peered over Chloe’s shoulder and The Bellas all turned to Beca who had now brought her hand to her forehead, glancing apologetically at Chloe.
“Beca Mitchell, I had no idea you had it in you!” Stacie said with a huge teasing grin on her face.
Beca winced, her eyes still on Chloe’s face, but to her surprise, a small smile slowly crept onto Chloe’s face.
“Open yours.” she said, motioning down at the gift in Beca’s hands, “Trust me.”
And Beca did trust her. She trusted her with everything. Her mind, her soul, her body. Chloe was the perfect girlfriend. Beca adored her.
So she slowly unwrapped the gift that was suspiciously a similar size and flexibility of the paperback voucher book she’d bought Chloe. True enough, and to Beca’s surprise, her gift was also a small booklet titled ‘Sex Vouchers’ and Beca grinned. Great minds..
“Double the amount of sex vouchers??” Cynthia Rose blurted, and The Bellas all giggled while Beca and Chloe looked at one another with big smiles. Clearly they knew one another better than they thought. They’d only been dating a few months..
To Beca and Chloe’s horror, Fat Amy quickly snatched Chloe’s ‘Sex Voucher’ booklet and began flicking through it. Beca lunged for it, but the Australian was too quick. A huge grin wiped over Amy’s face:
“Ice cubes to be used in foreplay?” she read and The Bellas all let out one long harmonious “oooOOOooooo..” while Cynthia Rose let out a wolf whistle.
“Amy give it back!” Beca demanded, but the booklet was passed out of her reach and over to Cynthia Rose who turned the page and read:
“Submissive wearing handcuffs and blindfolded!”
Squeals came from the girls in the lounge while Beca and Chloe became more embarrassed, both now with their hands to their faces as Stacie held up her own handcuffs and threw them into Chloe’s lap with a loud giggle.
“You’ll need those then!” she teased before Cynthia Rose passed the booklet over to her. Beca’s stomach sank as she saw Stacie’s eyes light up at the next voucher.
“Lick from the ankle, up the inside leg, until you reach the core!”
The Bellas all turned back to Beca who looked down awkwardly at her own ‘sex voucher’ booklet. That was one she enjoyed the idea of Chloe indulging in. But she hadn’t ever wanted The Bellas to know.
“The core?” Flo asked with a furrowed brow and a grinning Cynthia Rose turned to the Guatemalan to whisper something in her ear. Flo’s eyebrows rose and a light “Ohhh” left her mouth.
The booklet was passed to her and a smile graced her face as she flicked to another voucher, “Use a vibrator in foreplay.”
Again, The Bellas squealed in delight, and Beca felt sure she couldn’t get any redder in the face. God this was so embarrassing! She glanced at Chloe who was also a fine shade of pink, and Beca felt assured that at least her girlfriend - who was often very confident - was embarrassed about this too.
The booklet was passed on and Emily nervously glanced down at the next page, the colour draining from her face. The Bella’s leant a little closer to the youngest member. The freshman. Poor, innocent, eighteen year old Emily. Even Beca and Chloe hesitated anxiously at what the girl might be about to read out.
“W…Wear a strap-on and take me from behind?”
The room fell silent save for a couple of gasps when Emily awkwardly turned to booklet to show the group that it hadn’t been printed like the previous pages. This one had been hand-written.
Even Chloe turned to Beca with a look of surprise, though hers was more of pleasant surprise than their friends’ current look of horror. Beca was left with little option other than to shrug with an awkward expression. That really was the most explicit voucher in the bookle-
“I’ll wear the strap-on and take you from behind!” Ashley read out with a loud laugh, and The Bellas all looked over to see Ashley rock backwards as she laughed, the page now opened on another handwritten voucher. Ahhh shit…Beca had forgotten about that one.
“Okay that’s enough, give it to Chloe!” Beca said in a tone that showed just how unimpressed she now was by this teasing. But it only served to make her fellow seniors (and Emily) laugh harder.
“I think it’ll be you who’ll be ‘giving it’ to Chloe!” Stacie teased and Cynthia Rose reached over to high-five her while Fat Amy nudged Chloe with a wink.
“Sounds like you’re in for a busy night, Red.”
And Chloe let out a light groan, rolling her eyes with an amused smile. But Beca had had enough.
“Right, that’s it.” the brunette said, throwing her hands in the air then rising up to her feet, not daring to catch the eyes of any of The Bellas who had stopped laughing, “I’m out of here.”
“Nooooo!” The girls in the room whined but Beca had already made her decision, strode out of the lounge and back upstairs.
Chloe let out a light sigh, raising her eyebrows at their friends with a soft sigh, “Not cool, ladies.” and The Bellas all looked at her apologetically.
—
Beca sat on the bed in a grump, folding her eyes while she looked up at the ceiling. She’d only been 80% committed to getting Chloe that booklet. Had thought it was a huge risk in the first place. But knew her girlfriend enough to know that Chloe would probably enjoy some of the activities within it that they hadn’t experimented with before.
After several minutes of stewing over how irritated she felt, she heard the door of the bedroom slowly open. The bedroom she was currently laying in. Chloe’s bedroom.
Beca saw her girlfriend quietly step into the room, closing the door behind her with a calm expression on her face. Beca had no idea how her girlfriend could be so calm. That moment downstairs had been utterly mortifying for them both!
Chloe laid on the bed beside her with a gentle sigh and they both remained silent for a couple of minutes until Chloe dared to begin a conversation.
“One hell of a Secret Santa gift, babe.” she said in an amused tone.
“Yeah well it seemed like a good idea at the time.” Beca grumbled and she felt Chloe prop her upper body up on her elbow, turning to look at her.
“It’s still a good idea.” Chloe insisted, reaching out to twiddle one of the buttons on Beca’s top, “I got you the same present, remember? That means we’re on the same page. It means we’re both ready for the same things…sexually.”
Beca turned to look at her girlfriend’s beautiful bright blue eyes and she raised her own eyebrows, “Yeah, but I included ‘strap-on’ vouch-“
But Chloe interrupted her quickly with an amused smile on her face, “-And you don’t think I included a ‘strap-on’ voucher in yours?”
Beca swallowed loudly, hesitating for a moment before muttering, “Did you?”
She watched as Chloe reached over her body to pick Beca’s unwrapped ‘Sex Voucher Booklet’, and turned to a page towards the back. With a light chuckle, she showed Beca a hand-written voucher that said about the voucher holder being submitted to ‘sensual strap-on sex’…whatever the ‘sensual’ part meant.
Beca’s eyes widened then a small smile poked into the corners of her mouth, “Seriously?”
“Uhuh?”
“You’d be down with trying that out?”
“I’d be down with trying all these vouchers out.” Chloe confirmed in a low tone that Beca recognised as a tone that her girlfriend used when she was feeling horny, “From my book and yours.”
Beca grinned, immediately launching her body up from the bed to topple on top of the redhead and Chloe let out a giggle while they shared a piercing deep kiss.
“I don’t have a strap-on.” Beca admitted after a moment, glancing apologetically from Chloe’s lips up to her eyes. But Chloe simply smiled and shrugged.
“There’s always the sales after Christmas?”
Being A Girl: A Brief Personal History of Violence
1.
I am six. My babysitter’s son, who is five but a whole head taller than me, likes to show me his penis. He does it when his mother isn’t looking. One time when I tell him not to, he holds me down and puts penis on my arm. I bite his shoulder, hard. He starts crying, pulls up his pants and runs upstairs to tell his mother that I bit him. I’m too embarrassed to tell anyone about the penis part, so they all just think I bit him for no reason.
I get in trouble first at the babysitter’s house, then later at home.
The next time the babysitter’s son tries to show me his penis, I don’t fight back because I don’t want to get in trouble.
One day I tell the babysitter what her son does, she tells me that he’s just a little boy, he doesn’t know any better. I can tell that she’s angry at me, and I don’t know why. Later that day, when my mother comes to pick me up, the babysitter hugs me too hard and says how jealous she is because she only has sons and she wishes she had a daughter as sweet as me.
One day when we’re playing in the backyard he tells me very seriously that he might kill me one day and I believe him.
2.
I am in the second grade and our classroom has a weird open-concept thing going on, and the fourth wall is actually the hallway to the gym. All day long, we surreptitiously watch the other grades file past on the way to and from the gym. We are supposed to ignore most of them. The only class we are not supposed to ignore is Monsieur Pierre’s grade six class.
Every time Monsieur Pierre walks by, we are supposed to chorus “Bonjour, Monsieur Sexiste.” We are instructed to do this by our impossibly beautiful teacher, Madame Lemieux. She tells us that Monsieur Pierre, a dapper man with grey hair and a moustache, is sexist because he won’t let the girls in his class play hockey. She is the first person I have ever heard use the word sexist.
The word sounds very serious when she says it. She looks around the class to make sure everyone is paying attention and her voice gets intense and sort of tight.
“Girls can play hockey. Girls can do anything that boys do,” she tells us.
We don’t really believe her. For one thing, girls don’t play hockey. Everyone in the NHL – including our hero Mario Lemieux, who we sometimes whisper might be our teacher’s brother or cousin or even husband – is a boy. But we accept that maybe sixth grade girls can play hockey in gym class, so we do what she asks.
Mostly what I remember is the smile that spreads across Monsieur Pierre’s face whenever we call him a sexist. It is not the smile of someone who is ashamed; it is the smile of someone who finds us adorable in our outrage.
3.
Later that same year a man walks into Montreal’s École Polytechnique and kills fourteen women. He kills them because he hates feminists. He kills them because they are going to be engineers, because they go to school, because they take up space. He kills them because he thinks they have stolen something that is rightfully his. He kills them because they are women.
Everything about the day is grey: the sky, the rain, the street, the concrete side of the École Polytechnique, the pictures of the fourteen girls that they print in the newspaper. My mother’s face is grey. It’s winter, and the air tastes like water drunk from a tin cup.
Madame Lemieux doesn’t tell us to call Monsieur Pierre a sexist anymore. Maybe he lets the girls play hockey now. Or maybe she is afraid.
Girls can do anything that boys do but it turns out that sometimes they get killed for it.
4.
I am fourteen and my classmate’s mother is killed by her boyfriend. He stabs her to death. In the newspaper they call it a crime of passion. When she comes back to school, she doesn’t talk about it. When she does mention her mother it’s always in the present tense – “my mom says” or “my mom thinks” – as if she is still alive. She transfers schools the next year because her father lives across town in a different school district.
Passion. As if murder is the same thing as spreading rose petals on your bed or eating dinner by candlelight or kissing through the credits of a movie.
5.
Men start to say things to me on the street, sometimes loudly enough that everyone around us can hear, but not always. Sometimes they mutter quietly, so that I’m the only one who knows. So that if I react, I’ll seem like I’m blowing things out of proportion or flat-out making them up. These whispers make me feel complicit in something, although I don’t quite know what.
I feel like I deserve it. I feel like I am asking for it. I feel dirty and ashamed.
I want to stand up for myself and tell these men off, but I am afraid. I am angry that I’m such a baby about it. I feel like if I were braver, they wouldn’t be able to get away with it. Eventually I screw up enough courage and tell a man to leave me alone; I deliberately keep my voice steady and unemotional, trying to make it sound more like a command than a request. He grabs my wrist and calls me a fucking bitch.
After that I don’t talk back anymore. Instead I just smile weakly; sometimes I duck my head and whisper thank you. I quicken my steps and hurry away until one time a man yells don’t you fucking run away and starts to follow me.
After that I always try to keep my pace even, my breath slow. Like how they tell you that if you ever see a bear you shouldn’t run, you should just slowly back away until he can’t see you.
I think that these men, like dogs, can smell my fear.
6.
On my eighteenth birthday my cousin takes me out clubbing. While we’re dancing, a man comes up behind me and starts fiddling with the straps on my flouncy black dress. But he’s sort of dancing with me and this is my first time ever at a club and I want to play it cool, so I don’t say anything. Then he pulls the straps all the way down and everyone laughs as I scramble to cover my chest.
At a concert a man comes up behind me and slides his hand around me and starts playing with my nipple while he kisses my neck. By the time I’ve got enough wiggle room to turn around, he’s gone.
At my friend’s birthday party a gay man grabs my breasts and tells everyone that he’s allowed to do it because he’s not into girls. I laugh because everyone else laughs because what else are you supposed to do?
Men press up against me on the subway, on the bus, once even in a crowd at a protest. Their hands dangle casually, sometimes brushing up against my crotch or my ass. One time it’s so bad that I complain to the bus driver and he makes the man get off the bus but then he tells me that if I don’t like the attention maybe I shouldn’t wear such short skirts.
7.
I get a job as a patient-sitter, someone who sits with hospital patients who are in danger of pulling out their IVs or hurting themselves or even running away. The shifts are twelve hours and there is no real training, but the pay is good.
Lots of male patients masturbate in front of me. Some of them are obvious, which is actually kind of better because then I can call a nurse. Some of them are less obvious, and then the nurses don’t really care. When that happens, I just bury my head in a book and pretend I don’t know what they’re doing.
One time an elderly man asks me to fix his pillow and when I bend over him to do that he grabs my hand and puts it on his dick.
When I call my supervisor to complain she says that I shouldn’t be upset because he didn’t know what he was doing.
8.
A man walks into an Amish school, tells all the little girls to line up against the chalkboard, and starts shooting.
A man walks into a sorority house and starts shooting.
A man walks into a theatre because the movie was written by a feminist and starts shooting.
A man walks into Planned Parenthood and starts shooting.
A man walks into.
9.
I start writing about feminism on the internet, and within a few months I start getting angry comments from men. Not death threats, exactly, but still scary. Scary because of how huge and real their rage is. Scary because they swear they don’t hate women, they just think women like me need to be put in their place.
I get to a point where the comments – and even the occasional violent threat – become routine. I joke about them. I think of them as a strange badge of honour, like I’m in some kind of club. The club for women who get threats from men.
It’s not really funny.
10.
Someone makes a death threat against my son.
I don’t tell anyone right away because I feel like it is my fault – my fault for being too loud, too outspoken, too obviously a parent.
When I do finally start telling people, most of them are sympathetic. But a few women say stuff like “this is why I don’t share anything about my children online,” or “this is why I don’t post any pictures of my child.”
Even when a man makes a choice to threaten a small child it is still, somehow, a woman’s fault.
11.
I try not to be afraid.
I am still afraid.
- By Anne Thériault
Week Before Christmas
Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Pitchmas @lion-cheshire!!
I’m your not so secret Santa anymore. :-) I hope you are enjoying happy and peaceful holidays and I hope you will enjoy your gift too. :-)
P.S. - Deep apologies for all possible grammar mistakes, english is not my native language. :-)
TUESDAY
This year was totally something else for Beca and Chloe. Only one week till Christmas and they were behind with everything. Not that Beca would mind, she wasn’t into Christmas since her parents divorced but Chloe… Chloe loved Christmas. More than anything.
Unfortunately tho, her job was keeping her busy to the point she didn’t even had time to decorate their apartment let alone going out to look for the perfect Christmas tree.
And if there was something that Beca loved more than anything, well.. that was Chloe. That’s why she found herself that morning in their living room with a huge box. She wanted to surprise her girlfriend and decorate the Christmas tree for her. Let’s just say Beca was not the best person to accomplish that task but she totally tried her best to make it look as festive as possible. Which wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do when the only help she got was from their four legged friend, retriever Hagrid, who was constantly stealing every piece of decoration he could find and reach.
But after few hours of climbing the chair to reach the upper parts of the tree and chasing the dog to get the things he stole, the brunette was finally done. She was proud of her work, even thought she knew it wasn’t the most beautiful tree in town. But it was for Chloe and Chloe would be happy. Right?
Wrong. When Chloe got home from work, Beca was in the kitchen getting dinner ready. She didn’t hear her girfriend opening the door and coming inside until she heard laugther coming from the living room. She went there, curious what made her favorite redhead laugh so much. When she entered the room, Chloe stood in front of the tree, one hand covering her mouth and her body was shaking with, suddently, silent laughter.
“Ehm, what is it?” asked Chloe, pointing at the tree.
Beca squinted her eyes suspiciously. “ Our Christmas tree?” she tried carefully, still not understanding what was happening.
Chloe started laughing again, stronger than before. “It’s a fake tree and it looks like it’s best years are over.” More laugh.
“Hey! That’s rude, dude.” the brunette huffed and turned around to go back to the kitchen.
“No, no, no, no. Beca, wait. I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to. The tree is really beautiful and i really appreciate what you did.”
Beca stopped and faced Chloe again. The redhead looked into her eyes and then she looked at the tree. It looked really weird and not at all what she expected it to be but was very impressed with the effort Beca made just for her.
“I have an idea” Chloe said hugging Beca.
“What?” was her answer, annoyed look on her face.
“We could go looking for a new, real one together and make it again. And I’ll help you this time” she smiled and kissed her on the cheek “I’m really sorry babe but that, is not exactly something a person would consider a nice tree” she said pointing to the tree standing right in the middle of the room, trying not to laugh again. She didn’t want the brunette to feel worse than she already was. She knew Beca didn’t like Christmas but she really appreciated what she did.
“Okay Beale, like I could say no to you.”
Chloe knew that was going to be the answer, Beca always agrees when it’s her asking her things.
All of a sudden, Chloe felt a fluffy ball walking between her legs. She crutched down and started to pet their dog. “Hey you, I missed you” she was using what Beca called weird kid voice, the one she always used when she talked with Hagrid. “Where you a good boy for Beca today? Of course you were”. The dog was so happy to have all the attentions and loved the way Chloe petted him that he immediately rolled on his back and started to wiggle his tale faster than he could.
“Aww Becs, isn’t he cute?” she asked looking directly at her girlfriend.
“If you say so” Beca said. She wasn’t exactly a dog person.
Chloe got up after a few more seconds and went to Beca starting to hug her and kiss her all over her face “Oh c'moon Bec! You love him and you know it, don’t deny it to yourself” she said laughing.
“I don’t Chlo, you know I agreed to it because I can’t say no to your puppy dog eyes”.
She was trying to escape from her girlfriend’s arms when she suddenly heard a weird sound coming from behind. She turned around so fast that Chloe could hear her neck snap. Everything went silent for a second, then, all Chloe could hear was Beca screaming.
“What the hell are you doing?! That’s not a real tree! No need to mark your territory! Chloe he’s peeing on our tree! Do something!”
She couldn’t move, she was too shocked to do anything. When she finally turned around tho, she found her girlfriend on the floor, laughing so hard that breathing was starting to be hard.
“Oh my God, Becs! You’re so funny” Chloe said after regaining her breath.
“Funny?! Chlo, it will smell like pee in here!” she huffed.
“Don’t worry, I’ll clean it babe”
She got up, got closer to the other girl and kissed her on the cheek. The brunette rolled her eyes and turned her head slightly on her side.
“This is going to be the longest Christmas ever”
WEDNESDAY
They didn’t even start decorating the new tree yet and Beca was already regretting her agreement on making another one with Chloe. Not that she would have another choice, since Hagrid peed on her masterpiece. The thing was, that thing that Chloe called dog, was even crazier then yesterday. Beca thought it was mostly because Chloe was home, all happy and in Christmas mood, jumping around the house and singing Christmas themed songs, which Hargid thought it was funny and, apparently, her mood infected him too.
He started jumping and runnning around the house too, sniffing everything that Chloe brought down from the attic. Meaning, no decoration was safe.
is anybody else here like, Extra Gay for girls with freckles? like Any Kind of freckles, like the little splash across the nose and cheeks kind but also the all over ever inch of your body kind and the dark big prominent kind and the only-come-out-in-summer kind and oh boy girls with freckles…….. i am Gay
Freckles look so good on every face honestly if u have freckles pls love them
things that are cute:
- when girls put their hair up in messy buns and there are a bunch of stray hairs hanging around their face/back of their neck
- when girls wear beanies
- when girls wear backwards baseball caps
- when girls do literally anything ever
- girls
“you shouldn’t be attracted to girls.”
ok but consider the following:
- girl hair
- girl thighs
- girl moans
- girl moans
- girl moans
- GIRL
- MOANS
- girl moans ok
I was at the library the other day, and my daughter was playing at the Art Table with two other girls. One of the little girls’ mother was near by and said “Aren’t you girls good little artists!”
And the third girl perked up and said “My dad’s an artist!”
The woman smiled indulgently and says “Oh really, what kind?”
The little girl proudly told her “He’s a tattoo artist.”
And the woman. Oh man. Her face just twists, crumples into something nothing short of disdain, and she opens her mouth and says “That’s not…”
“An easy job,” I cut in, looking the woman in the face because really? You’re going to tell a child her dad’s not a real artist. “In fact it’s very very hard, because that art is alive forever on a person, not like on paper. And that’s scary! You have to be really good, to be a tattoo artist. Your dad must be really, really good.”
what kind of person could just try and crush a little kid like that? goddamn.
I see girls treating girls like they’re worthless. I see girls cheating on their girl. like what the fuck? you don’t own her. she isn’t your toy. you can’t just get bored of her and leave for another. that’s just fucked up. you say all these sweet things to get her, then once you have her, you take advantage. if you had any decent sense of morality, you would not hurt a girl like that. love her and treat her like a princess.
I was at the library the other day, and my daughter was playing at the Art Table with two other girls. One of the little girls’ mother was near by and said “Aren’t you girls good little artists!”
And the third girl perked up and said “My dad’s an artist!”
The woman smiled indulgently and says “Oh really, what kind?”
The little girl proudly told her “He’s a tattoo artist.”
And the woman. Oh man. Her face just twists, crumples into something nothing short of disdain, and she opens her mouth and says “That’s not…”
“An easy job,” I cut in, looking the woman in the face because really? You’re going to tell a child her dad’s not a real artist. “In fact it’s very very hard, because that art is alive forever on a person, not like on paper. And that’s scary! You have to be really good, to be a tattoo artist. Your dad must be really, really good.”
what kind of person could just try and crush a little kid like that? goddamn.