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justabookworm39 · 1 year

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(and in the end) I’d do it all again

@whumpay Day 5: Passing Out From Pain

Red vs. Blue (mix of Red Team and Blue Team, but Tucker is the subject of the prompt)

Warnings: Canon-typical swearing, combat injuries, irresponsible use of a Covenant energy sword

Notes: Based on ‘I think you’re my best friend,’ a ‘fic I wrote for the RvB Angst Wars back in 2017!

I had offered at the time to write a happy-ending version if people were interested, and while nobody ever took me up on the offer I STILL get comments/tags/etc. with folks crying over the original ‘fic so this felt warranted.

Also it was the first time I ever cried while writing something and it felt wrong to not give credit where it was due so-

Just like the original, title is from ‘The Kids Aren’t Alright’ by Fall Out Boy.

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They saw it at the same time. A hint of glowing blue peeking out from behind a nearby boulder.

Grif felt his hands clench on the steering wheel, and he almost felt Simmons holding his breath in the seat next to him. “Is…” Simmons muttered, horror quickly rising in his voice. “That’s gotta be–”

“Fuck.” Grif slammed his foot on the gas, not caring as he was slammed against the wheel. “Simmons, get the radio going.”

“But we don’t know–”

“Now!” Grif hated the way his own voice cracked with panic, but one glance in Simmons’ direction confirmed that he understood.

The jeep had barely stopped when Grif jumped from the driver’s seat, while Simmons powered on the radio behind him. There was a faint stench that Grif couldn’t describe, and the grass was stained with something dark and wet. He could guess what the stain was, even with the shadows cast by the boulder. His steps slowed, and he gritted his teeth as he walked to the other side.

Tucker’s armor was splattered with blood, a fine hairline crack spreading like a spider web from his side. His helmet lolled to the side, his body barely propped up against the stone. The handle of the keysword was sitting on limp fingers, still powered on.

A set of footsteps hurried up behind Grif, before retreating with a hissed expletive. Grif dropped to his knees with a grunt, wrestling Tucker’s helmet off. That somehow made it worse–seeing his ashy complexion, the way his sweat-drenched braids stuck to his head.

“Yeah, we found Tucker! He’s… he’s really fucked up though, I-I don’t–”

“He’s breathing.” But somehow–some-fucking-how, because of course the son of a bitch wasn’t going to just die–Grif found a pulse.

“Holy shit–” Simmons was cut off by a frantic mess of garbled yelling, which Grif didn’t bother trying to decode. Instead his focus shifted to the trail of blood leading up to Tucker.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he muttered, pushing himself to his feet. The trail led to–or from, really–a ravine several dozen yards back. Grif looked around, confirming to himself that no space pirates were nearby, and yelled, “Caboose! You there, man?”

There was a moment of silence, before a distant and tired voice called back, “Hello?”

Grif couldn’t help but laugh with pure relief.

“Holy fuck!” Simmons almost ran into Grif, grabbing his teammate's arm at the last second to catch himself. "Caboose, are you alright?!"

"Uh... not really!"

“Ooh my god, I’ve never been so happy to hear his voice,” Grif said. Clapping Simmons on the shoulder, he added, “Go check on him, I’ll get Tucker in the backseat.”

Simmons nodded, and Grif turned back to Tucker’s unconscious body. His arms already hurt thinking about it–Tucker may be short, but he was five-foot-five of pure muscle. Still, they didn’t have time to wait for a real medical team to get out there. So Grif took a deep breath, rolled his shoulder, and knelt on the blood-stained grass again.

“Okay, Caboose has a broken leg, but he seems to be in alright shape aside–”

Grif glanced over his shoulder, catching as Simmons froze in place. “What?” he grumbled. “Now’s really not the time to critique my form.”

“His side–”

“Yeah, he’s bleeding, I know–”

“No, he isn’t! That’s the thing!” Simmons ran up next to Grif, frantically waving a hand at Tucker's body. Grif still didn’t understand, not until he got Tucker balanced over his shoulder and wrapped one arm around Tucker’s waist.

Then he felt it. The lack of an open wound. The feeling of burned skin.

“Holy shit.”

The two turned, staring down at the keysword sitting in a puddle of blood. After a moment of hesitation, Simmons silently picked it up, while Grif finished hauling Tucker to the Warthog.

Tucker… wasn’t dead.

He really wished that wasn’t a surprise to him.

He groaned as he opened his eyes, trying to roll away from the blinding medbay lights. He didn’t make it very far, stopped both by the pain in his side and the weight of the bandages. With a huff, he settled on his back again, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Well, look who’s finally awake?”

One eye opened halfway, and before Dr. Grey could say anything else, he interrupted. “Where’s Caboose?”

Oh, he's fine! Getting his fractured leg evaluated, but we should be able to piece him back together." Dr. Grey's typical cheery voice had the slightest edge of manic frustration to it, and Tucker didn't dare ignore it. "It’s been a bit slow given how much time we had to spend, oh, cutting out the bullet you sealed in your own body.”

“Shit... shit, that worked?!” Tucker almost sat up, but the flash of pain stopped him about two inches into that idea.

“Well, you stopped the bleeding. Or… half the bleeding, really. You only sealed about half the wound before you lost consciousness due to a combination of blood loss and a fucking energy sword.”

“Oh.” Despite everything, Tucker felt a bite of shame. All that, and he didn’t even make it far enough to get help himself. Not that it mattered, really, but…

You’re lucky they found you. Lucky Caboose was able to lift you out of there. Lucky that your bright idea didn’t get one or both of you killed.

He might’ve been able to make it without sealing the wound. He hadn’t wanted to take the chance. But if nobody had found him in the field, well… He’d be dead right now. Caboose might well have followed suit.

Fuck, there were so many different ways that could’ve gone wrong…

“Now, I think I’ll tell them you’re unconscious but stable, alright?”

“Huh?” Tucker shook his head, trying to set aside his spiraling thoughts. “Tell who? I mean I’m fine, I can–”

“Really now.” Doctor Grey tilted her head. “You think you’ve got the energy for a short-tempered smart A.I. and an ex-war criminal? Because I can assure you they’ll be the first two in here.”

Shit.

With a sigh, Tucker settled back onto the pillow. “Yeah, uh… tell Church and Wash that I’m still out, could ya? I think I need the sleep anyway.”

#whumpay2023 #my writing #red vs blue #rvb #lavernius tucker #dexter grif #richard simmons #michael j caboose #blue team brot3 #indirectly but still #also I haven't used that tag in. FAR too long

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louiseazy · 1 month

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thoughts while rewatching rvb season 17 of course none of this really matters because the retcon but whatever

-Honestly not having church back feels like a missed opportunity. -So Donut part Ai now cause Chrovos save him? Okay. -Despite everything Donut still hasn't forgotten he's almost died. -I still don't think it was a good idea for Chrovos to tell Donut how to fix things but at least they explain it. -Doctor Grey commits insurance fraud -Wash please don't explain in front of the enemy -God 17 is so cringe -stop with the speeches and get on with it -Genkins pretending to be Epsilon is so mean, I need more angst fics -Wash having to shot Donut over and over

Time travel doesn't help with Wash's character disconnect, nor with setting up the tragedy of project freelancer. They make so many chances and then turn around and do fuck all with it. I get Carolina but Maine has the bruteshot they should be "friends" by now. Nor should Wash be so low on the leader board. I cannot believe that Wash was ever 'forgot to pull the pin out of the grenade' bad in freelancer.

-Time travel and they still don't show the Dinos vs Robots fight :( -Caboose is the first one to get it again - They literally had a whole Wash bounces back bit, but sure Carolina the one who survives things that would have broke most people (shaking my head) - I seriously just have god I hate this god I hate this in the notes -yay Doc help's Donut -Donut say pink instead of lightish red around 1:13, but he couldn't keep it since it's noncanon -'Church this will make much more sense if you go to bed'

I think Tucker moment to fix time would have been more gut punching if it was the point where he toss Felix the grenade. They could still have Genkins temp him, it would be fixing his mistake in trusting Felix, making it so much harder for him. But nooo they can't take the chances that they fucking made.

-Nice job breaking it hero/ fixing it villain, Donut giving Genkins the push to betray Chrovos first. -So much shipping fuel 'if he's single there's no hope for us' 'everybody out I'm gonna fuck him!'

The fear thing was another missed opportunity. They could have done so much more and better. It Should have gotten more time instead. I mean Sarge loves violence, he betray the team for war, expending on the office bit would have been more interesting. Him having face that he is tried and still not being able to handle it. Grif's is exercise really? And Simmons's is a Joke.

-I get the pride thing but come on we shit to do Carolina, and they ended up helping anyway! Didn't something like this already happen? but it was Tex? Twice!? -They should have saved the budget for a Chrovos and/or Genkins fight - the ending was kinda mehh, being retcon twice doesn't help

-'I'll sure miss knowing what's going on' ~Caboose

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rubykgrant · 2 years

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Some other thoughts about my RVB Monsters AU-

Sarge was actually from a family of monster hunters, who mostly specialized in Vampires, but they haven’t seen any in a couple generations... because this AU happens in kinda-sorta “normal modern times”, he got sent to fight in WW2 when he was entirely too young to be allowed (but they didn’t care), and came home to find his family mysteriously killed. For a few years he waited for regular authorities to solve the murders, then finally accepted the fact that spooky monster stuff is real, and spent the next few years tracking down the Vampires that killed his family (with a brief interruption, in which he was drafted into another war). When he was 29, he found the leader Vampire, and after a nasty fight, Sarge killed the monster... but wound up bit. He wasn’t able to treat the wound properly, having focused more on how to destroy monsters instead of healing options. As a result, he’s kinda stuck in a perpetual “first-stage of Vampire transformation”. He’s learned more about how to deal with it (as well as other supernatural situations) since then. Basically, he needs to have a series of blood transfusions, and takes some un-Vampire medicine (it’s garlic flavored!). He’s a bit of a mad scientist for himself. Instead of just killing monsters, Sarge begins to take the time to actually study them, even gets to know a few, and reluctantly helps them (because he got bit when he was 29, he kinda decided that is both the beginning and end of his “life” in a symbolic way. he doesn’t stop aging, but it goes a bit more slowly... he’s still a gruff old man, though)

Simmons was working as an unpaid intern for his parent’s business, kind of just running around and doing busy-work. Because he’s ambitious and eager to please, he wanted to try and find a weird “financial glitch”, but started uncovering a money scam his dad was part of. What Simmons didn’t know; his dad was basically working for a weird kind of “Vampire Company”, with all these old-school fancy Vampires make deals with humans so they get big mansions and use various businesses as fronts. The Vampires get privacy and a steady flow of victims, and the people who are in on it get lots of money and expensive antiques. Some boss Vampire asks Mr Simmons for a human sacrifice be provided for a ceremony, which he will be compensated for. Daddy-dearest figures volunteering his son is a win-win. Vampires get a snack, and all the illegal activity gets swept under the rug. Simmons almost dies... but then! Sarge bursts in on the scene, finds a scrawny young man nearly drained of blood, and sets about rescuing him. Simmons is already too close to transforming, he can’t be saved from becoming a Vampire, but since Sarge killed the one who bit him, Simmons doesn’t get all “cursed to obey a master” or whatever. Actually, Simmons adjusts fairly well, not having too many craving issues and what-not. He has lots of angst and depression when he realizes his dad basically traded him for financial favors from Vampires, but soon he latches onto Sarge as a new father-figure. He helps Sarge understand things like the internet, and eventually assists him out in the field (a run-in with another monster left Simmons injured, now with a glass eye. it takes him a while to kinda tap-into his awesome Vampire Powers, but he figures it out)

Grif and his sister Kai were on their way to the airport together (he didn’t know how to explain what a tight spot he was in, feeling like he was trapped at home, unable to find a decent job, and no longer young and cute enough to get away with shop-lifting. he fell for some “Join the army!” BS, but told her he was drafted so she wouldn’t think he was ditching her. he really felt more like she could take care of herself better without him). There was a horrible traffic accident, caused by mysterious circumstances, leaving many people injured, and several dead... a few days later, Zombies start showing up in the streets. Sarge and Simmons go directly to what seems to be the center of the Zombie activity, first doing some recon to figure out what KIND of Zombies these are (virus, fungus, space parasite, mental dominance, or magical necromancy?). They notice one Zombie in particular doesn’t seem to motivated when it comes to chasing humans... he sits himself down and rummages around for some abandoned pizza sitting in a box on a bench instead. Sarge decides he wants to study this Zombie, so Simmons gets the idea to buy a pack of Oreos, and make a trail to their van. The Zombie comes right along, and while he seems to get irritated from Sarge barking orders, he’s a pretty chill Zombie. He isn’t even being restrained back at the warehouse where they live, he just hangs out. They finally figure out some kind of magical necromancy is involved, but the spell is fading... to keep the Zombie from re-dying, they give him a transfusion of Simmons’ blood (already half-dead, but able to be alive), and Sarge Frankenstein’s some “fresher” body parts. The Zombie stays alive, stops rotting, and starts talking! From a partially scuffed ID in his pocket, they know his name is Grif (but he can’t remember much else about his life. as he experiences more things, it reminds him of events in his life. thankfully, he and Simmons talk CONSTANTLY about EVERYTHING). Now he’s less of a Zombie, and a bit more like a Ghoul. Kai was also resurrected by a necromancer spell, but something different than her brother. She doesn’t appear undead or decayed at all (lucky), and likes to call herself a “Succubus” for the fun of it. She also has a better memory than her brother, and is trying to track him down. Neither of them really knows or understands what caused the accident or who brought them back to life...

#red vs blue #rvb #monsters #vampire #zombies

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tigereyes45 · 2 years

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Another fic tag game!

@that-wildwolf tagged me in this fic tag game! I’m going to tag @biasedsteam9 , @demonicsoulmates , @hyphenartist , @feoplepeel , and @welt-verbessererin

What is your total posted word count on AO3?

I’m sitting at 712,118 words on Ao3.

How often do you write?

I write everyday. Thanks to 4thewords I usually get 450 words in every day if not more. Even if I’m not writing on there, I still always write.

Do you have a routine for writing?

No. I just sit down and write. In the fall my favorite writing setting is when I’m by an open window, and can smell the trees outside during midday where it’s still bright but I can look over and see the sun go down. My house filled with cinnamon smells. One time, during this setting, I wrote 20,000 words, starting in the morning and I just wrote all day motivated by the mood. My peak was at when the sun set though.

What's your favorite tropes/pairing?

Oh man so my all time favorite pairing is probably Varric/Hawke (dragon age). As for favorite tropes here’s the list; found family, friends to lovers, mentor characters who meet their demise (they are a trope fight me), and the lone survivor coping with a world without their closest friends, and family.

Do you have a favorite fic of yours?

Hmm, probably not in the way that I have a favorite overall fic. My favorite one I’m currently writing is Reclaiming Life Once More which is a sequel to my favorite one I enjoy reading Escaping Death Once Again they’re both mass effect fics that are post-destroy ending. The story I enjoyed writing the most so far is an oldie on my account, Who I Really Am. This was a RvB AU about how I thought Grif was going to return in season 15. (Yes it’s Grimmons.) I was in such a odd headspace writing this one, but it was really fun.

Your fic with the most kudos?

Somehow my most kudos fic is Meeting the Team with 326 kudos. It’s a star wars the clones wars fanfiction where a youngling Ahsoka meets the Wolffe pack for the first time as Plo Koon wants her and his team to get along.

Anything you don't like about your writing?

I really don’t like writing stories that revolve only around romance. I need something else to help me keep in the story. Sure two characters getting together or being together can be the center, but it can’t be the only thing, or else I’m not having fun. I can write this, I just don’t like too haha.

Now something you do like?

I love writing angst. I especially love writing long emotional arcs that carry the story. I’m all here for writing both subtle and very obvious character arcs.

Whoo! Done answering, now I have to get ready for work. If anyone checks out the writing website 4thewords add me as a refferal: SRWUH88572

It was actually feoplepeel that got me on there, and it has helped me stay consistent in my writing ever sense.

#fic tag game #fanfiction tag game #mass effect #dragon age #red vs blue #RvB #RvB fanfiction #mass effect fanfiction

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ao3feed-thehobbit · 2 years

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Characters In Subnautica

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/Wlnr4eb

by KaijuSushi62

The precursor gun platform on planet 4546B fires upon the Aurora, but the massive ship's crew is gone. They've been replaced by dozens of confused characters, all transported from other worlds and into this one. Not everyone makes it into the lifepods. Not every lifepod lands safely. Now stranded on the oceanic planet, the massive mashup must band together and learn to survive in the harsh new climate of Subnautica's world. Although some characters are more focused on causing harm than doing good.

Words: 1528, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Red vs. Blue, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms, RWBY, Markiplier TV (Web Series), Subnautica (Video Game), Original Work

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M

Characters: Original Characters, CT-7567 | Rex, CT-5385 | Tup, CT-5597 | Jesse, CC-2224 | Cody, Ahsoka Tano, Darkiplier (Markiplier TV), The Jims (Markiplier TV), Dr. Iplier (Markiplier TV), Author | Host (Markiplier TV), Bingiplier (Markiplier TV), Eric Derekson, Yancy (A Heist With Markiplier), Illinois (A Heist with Markiplier), Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III, Vax'ildan (Critical Role), Vex'ahlia (Critical Role), Keyleth (Critical Role), Scanlan Shorthalt, Shaun Gilmore, Locus | Samuel Ortez, Agent Carolina (Red vs. Blue), Agent Washington (Red vs. Blue), Emily Grey, Lavernius Tucker, Michael J. Caboose, AI Program Epsilon | Leonard Church, Sarge (Red vs. Blue), Dick Simmons, Dexter Grif, Bilbo Baggins, Fíli (Tolkien), Kíli (Tolkien), Noble Six | SPARTAN-B312, Jorge-052 | Noble Five, Shay Cormac, Qrow Branwen

Relationships: Keyleth/Vax'ildan (Critical Role), Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vex'ahlia

Additional Tags: Whumptober, Prompt Fic, Whump, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Crossover, Multiple Crossovers, Stranded, Survival, POV Multiple, Subnautica Spoilers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Serious Injuries, Amputation, Self-Insert, but kinda not, Near Death Experiences, Drowning, Other People's Original Characters (With Permission), Whump with plot, it's a little crazy, but really fun, Cross-Fandom Character Interactions, Caboose Nicknames Everyone, this fic is equal parts hurt-comfort-plot, RvB Shenanigans

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/Wlnr4eb

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #the hobbit

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jomeimei421 · 6 years

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At the time, giving him Sigma seemed like a good idea

Ask by @zalia ;-;-;-;-; why

#rvb washington #red versus blue #RvB #rvb Meta #Meta #agent maine #red vs blue #rvb angst war #agent Washington #project freelancer #Sigma #meta wash au

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pitchscribbles · 6 years

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“Well whatever it was at least we didn’t die from it”

*Cue everyone excusing themselves in the least inconspicuous ways in the following minutes*

A couple hours too late, schoolwork kept me busy the entire week 💦💦

#Red vs Blue #rvb angst war #Lavernius Tucker #Michael J Caboose #agent washington #Dexter Grif #richard simmons #colonel sarge #rvb sarge

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creatrixanimi · 6 years

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@rvbficwars

Ok so I actually got kinda emotional drawing this one… and then dust in the wind started playing while I was drawing it so it got worse ;_; Anyway, here’s some grif siblings sadness! Thanks, @secretlystephaniebrown for the prompt. This was a painful one!

#rvb #red vs blue #rvb angst war #kaikaina grif #art #major character death

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not-so-serious-wastebasket · 6 years

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I’m never going to be sick of the thought of tucker just quietly bleeding from his head while the others are just like, “dude??”

#rvb angst war #lavernius tucker #red vs blue #ahg i dont like armor #and how?? back of head??#my art

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gdipalomo · 6 years

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I love this concept, if Mdama knew about the prophecy child I’m damn sure he would want to get his hands on him. Factoring in that Chorus is an isolated colony covered in powerful Sangheili temples, you’ve got the set up for a pretty tragic confrontation.

#rvb angst war #rvb #red vs blue #lavernius tucker #lavernius tucker junior #micheal j caboose #charles palomo #tw death #tw blood #palomo's art

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relationshipcrimes · 6 years

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RvB Angst War Prompt: AU where Grif dies after getting run over by the tank and Kai is sent as his replacement, not knowing that shes replacing her brother. Bonus if she's introduced as "Private Grif"

She looks just like him. Same wide brown face, soft brown eyes, long kinky hair. Chubby in the skintight undersuit and entirely unbothered. Nearly the same color armor.

Same last name, too.

“What’s your first name,” Sarge grunts.

“My first name? Isn’t this the army?” she demands. “Don’t you guys all call each other by your last names like big macho men? Do I gotta start calling Simmons ‘Dick’ instead?”

“Okay, fine,” says Sarge. “Middle name. Second name. Third name. Take your pick.”

“Oh, in that case!” she says. “My middle name is Keihanaikukauakahihuliheekahaunaele. I think my mom said that Dex picked it out for me? You can call me that!”

Sarge, Simmons, and Donut glance at each other. Somehow, nobody feels like laughing.

“Seriously, just call me Grif,” she says. “That’s my last name. Like, nobody else is using it.”

Again, silence.

“Ugh!” she says. “My first name’s Kaikana. Happy? You can call me Kai. Geez! Why’s everyone in this canyon so weird?”

Within a day, Kaikana digs up a box of orange armor from the back of Red Base. “Ooh, orange is a look,” she says. “You could pick up dudes with this color armor! Hey, is anyone using this? I wanna switch!”

“That armor is—” Sarge begins.

“Yeah, sure,” says Simmons nastily, and doesn’t look at Sarge’s bewildered and alarmed expression. “Nobody’s using it. Knock yourself out.”

“Sweet!” Kai says, and begins shucking off armor right on the spot. Simmons jolts when he realizes that she’s not gonna stop with the plates; she’s going to take off the whole damn undersuit, and he stammers and fumbles and excuses himself from the room as fast as he can. Not fast enough to miss Kaikana’s wide grin and delighted wink.

Now their armor color is the same, too.

Sarge seems to be holding some sort of grudge against Simmons for the armor thing, and not only stops speaking to Simmons, but never posts Simmons and Kaikana to guard duty together. Kaikana complains about it relentlessly, because it’s “discrimination” and “the patriarchy” that Sarge won’t let her stand around with “the angry hot maroon guy.”

Simmons privately thinks Sarge is worried he’ll see the two of them standing there, in the maroon and orange armor, and think that nothing’s changed; but mostly he’s sour because he doesn’t know if he could hold a conversation with her, let alone any conversation that could hold a candle to the talks he and Grif used to have.

Simmons does think it’s funny that Sarge thinks that being on guard duty entirely alone is somehow better, but when he turns to tell Grif about it, he’s not there.

“Everyone in this canyon is weird,” Kaikana tells Simmons.

Simmons scowls and tries not to think about how Grif used to say that too.

“That’s okay,” Kaikana says. “Weird is hot, too.”

…Grif didn’t say that so much.

It takes Kaikana about a week to figure out Tucker from Blue Base is also down to fuck, and then she’s disappearing almost every night. The communal dorm room is too quiet without her. Simmons spends a lot of time thinking that she shouldn’t be allowed to go off and fuck a Blue, but Sarge never says anything.

Simmons’s anger gets the better of him: he marches up to her and says it’s against Red Army rules, to which Kaikana asks him if he’s jealous, and edges a little closer to her on the couch.

He flails and sputters and storms away.

“Aw, come on, don’t be shy!” she calls after him.

Kaikana comes into the kitchen with the full orange armor and helmet on and Donut drops his entire breakfast into the soapy kitchen sink. She laughs uproariously at him while Donut sputters and looks a little miserable, because Simmons knows that Donut had, for a second, thought that Grif had walked into the kitchen.

“Isn’t Donut so cute?” she tells Simmons, like it’s a secret. “Y’know, I could be into that.”

When she takes the helmet off again, her laugh still sounds a lot like Grif’s.

“Donut’s not interested,” Simmons says acidly.

Kai gives him an unimpressed look. “What’s it to you?”

“Simmons,” Donut begins, and Simmons gives him a poisonous look. Donut doesn’t say anything after all.

It’s Donut who says that they should tell her, over a quiet dinner while Kaikana is away at Blue Base. “Like, it’s weird that we haven’t told her already,” he says. “We knew her brother! She should at least know what happened to him! It’ll make things weird, but…”

Sarge grunts noncommittally. Simmons just looks down at his plate.

“And it freaks me out when she’s walking around Red Base with that armor,” Donut complains. “Who said she could have that, anyway?”

Another vague noise from Sarge. At the very least, Sarge knows how not to snitch.

“Seriously, I don’t know about you, but it’s not right,” says Donut. “I see her out of the corner of my eye and I think she’s her brother sometimes. Gives me the heebie-jeebies. Like there’s a ghost walking around. It’s not a good feeling, you know!”

Simmons snorts.

“I just don’t wanna keep seeing her and thinking I’m seeing Grif,” Donut complains.

Simmons stands up so fast his chair topples. Donut squeaks. “Do whatever you want,” he snarls at Donut, and leaves.

Eventually, Simmons has to go and tell Grif about it. When Sarge isn’t looking, he makes his way to the little cave in the side of the canyon, where the soil had been relatively soft and less likely to be ruined by rain.

“Your sister ended up here too,” he tells the headstone, which doesn’t respond.

Figures. The headstone is just a chunk of metal spray-painted with orange.

“I guess you’d probably hate that, even if she did come to find you,” Simmons goes on. “You spent a lot of time not wanting to be here yourself, so…”

He bites down on his accusations. But then again, if not to a mute headstone, where else can he be as bitter as he likes?

“Why didn’t you tell us you had a sister?” he demands. “All that time, letting me prattle on about my life, and you didn’t even think to mention—hey, yeah, I grew up in Hawaii, like that’s not an easy tidbit to share—not even that you didn’t really have a dad? You let me talk about my dad and you said nothing? Fuck you,” he snaps. “All this time together, you told us nothing about yourself, and now we have fuck-all to tell your own sister.”

The headstone doesn’t respond.

“Fuck,” Simmons hisses, and nearly kicks the stupid headstone, but he settles for stomping his way all the way back to Base. Fuck Grif. Fuck his stupid, horny sister. Fuck this entire fucking canyon.

When he gets back to base, Kaikana asks, “Where’ve you been?”

“Shut up.”

“Ooh, a secret? Visiting your secret boyfriend or something?”

“Shut up,” Simmons snaps.

“So angry,” she says. “Very hot.”

Simmons rounds on her, ready to tear her a new one or maybe just hit her because Simmons is a classy gentleman like that, and stops dead in his tracks again: She’s twirling one strand of her long hair around her finger, with that same face Grif had. The same secret glee, the same impish, clever grin, knowing she’s pushing his buttons, and more than a little flirtatious, like she’s daring him to come over here and make her shut up with his mouth.

It hits him all at once how often Grif used to look at him just like that.

She waggles her eyebrows at him in a clear invitation. He really, really wants to accept, and it’s not because he likes her.

“Stop,” he pleads, and flees the common room.

When Simmons goes to see Grif again, Donut and Kaikana are already at the grave. Donut’s got one arm around Kaikana’s shoulders. They must have heard him, because Kaikana whips around. Her eyes are entirely dry.

“You,” she hisses.

“Kai, he didn’t mean to,” Donut says immediately.

“He didn’t mean to? You said they were friends!” She points a finger at Simmons, who flinches. “And he can’t even be bothered to mention that he knows where my brother wound up, and it was in this fucking dirt cave? Couldn’t mention that he’d buried my brother there?”

“I was…” Simmons says, but he doesn’t even know where to begin with defending himself. What—he was afraid? He was ashamed? He was hoping that if he shoved his head in the sand for long enough, Grif might pop back out of the ground asking for a snack cake?

“Were you just not going to tell me?” Kaikana demands. “Were you just going to hole up here with this ugly grave that you didn’t even dig properly—”

Simmons’s stomach drops, because he’d actually done research, he hadn’t wanted the rain to come into the cave and wash away the dirt, he’d at least wanted Grif’s last resting spot to be decent—

“—and let me walk around in this canyon like a fucking idiot while all you chucklefucks pretend you’ve never knew my brother?!”

“So what if we were?” Simmons snaps back before he can think.

“Wait, no, we weren’t—” Donut says.

“We didn’t tell you because we didn’t know him at all!” Simmons shouts. “I have nothing to tell you! He was run over by accident, and he died having done nothing for this stupid war! We didn’t know jack shit about him and he didn’t know jack shit about us! We barely knew him and he died surrounded by strangers! And you know what? Maybe you didn’t know him so well, either,” says Simmons. “We didn’t even know you existed because he didn’t even bother to mention you.”

Kaikana freezes.

“Take that back,” she says.

The funny thing is, Simmons is absolutely going to take it back, because he’s a coward who can’t back up his own worst moments. He won’t mean it when he apologizes, but he’s going to take it back. The reason why he doesn’t is because there’s tears rolling down Kaikana’s cheeks even as she presses her hand up over her mouth, stifling her own pain on reflex.

Just like Grif used to do.

Simmons hesitates too long.

“Fuck you,” Kaikana says in a raspy voice, and swallows her sobs, and bolts past him and out of the cave.

By the next day, Kaikana’s left Red Base and set up camp with the Blues. She takes Grif’s armor with her.

That’s fine, Simmons thinks. He didn’t want to have that to remember Grif by, anyway. He’ll make do with just the grave.

((EDIT: I forgot Kai is colorblind!! Sorry guys!! D: ))

#rvb angst war #creatrixanimi #kai’s middle name taken from an incident where a woman’s middle name was too long to fit on her hawaii driver’s license #mine #hope u like it creatrix!!

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sxpaiscia · 6 years

Photo

@finerafin asked: “ Alright ... For the angst war: when the Meta chokes Sarge and gets dragged down the cliff ... Maybe he doesn't let go of Sarge ...”

this was a delight to do! thank you finny for this prompt :D... sadly the piece of wood was just enougth to save his trusty shotgun u.u

#rvb angst war #sarge #characther dead #injury #meta #rvb #maine #my art

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wordsysayswords · 6 years

Note

For the RvB angst contest, can I suggest Tucker dealing with the idea that Wash might die, after Wash gets shot in the throat? Thank you!

Breathing

Relationships: Tuckington

Warnings for some discussion of medical procedures/blood. Heavily discussed character death. Angst with a hopeful ending. @rvbficwars

It’s hardly the first time Tucker’s had to consider the possibility that Wash might die. Having fought beside the man for years, Tucker’s grown used to the thought, God fucking dammit, Wash is going to get himself killed and others like it.

It’s what comes after that Tucker has trouble with.

Or, Tucker is forced to consider a world without Wash. After all, just because Wash woke up at the end of season 15, doesn’t mean everything’s going to be okay.

Read on Ao3

“You said he’d be fine.”

“Captain Tucker–”

“You said he’d be okay. After Temple–they told us he even woke up.”

“And that is true, but unfortunately since then his condition–”

The resounding BANG as Tucker punches the desk echoes throughout the entire office. Even the hall beyond it goes dead quiet.

There’s a long moment of perfect silence before Tucker pulls his fist back from the now dented metal. He’s still in power armor, it’s a surprise he didn’t snap the whole desk in half.

Tucker looks up, expecting anger, expecting ‘pull yourself together, Captain.’ He’s prepared to be thrown from the room–hell maybe even the hospital.

Instead, he finds Grey sat at her desk, unmoved by his outburst. Kimball stands beside her chair, hand raised to her security detail, signally them to stand down. There’s no trace of the clinical doctor persona or the hardened leader. Just two friends, the misery on their faces a direct reflection of the cold tendrils wrapped around Tucker’s heart.

He blows out a long breath that does little to calm him.

“I don’t get it,” Tucker pleads. “We’re living in the fucking future. With time travel and AI.

“How does someone just stop breathing?”

There wasn’t time to think about it. Not while Temple’s machine was still out there threatening millions of lives. Not while there was a fight to fight and swords to swish-swish-stab and tanks to punch.

At least that’s what Tucker told himself. There’s no time to stop and worry about Wash.

Because worrying meant thinking. And thinking made that bullet tearing through Wash’s neck real.

So obviously the only thing to do was not think. But that was a hell of a lot easier said than done. Abject terror burrowed itself into Tucker’s brain like a parasite and touched every little decision, movement, and thought.

At the Blues and Reds old bases, Tucker grits his teeth and gives the most kickass pep talk of all time, thank you very much. It’s awesome and motivational and amazing, but

What would Wash say in his place?

Afterward, Tucker gets the video file of his speech from Jax so he can show Wash when they see him again. Because they will see Wash again.

Tucker ends up deleting it. It’s nowhere near as good as whatever the Freelancer would have thought up on the spot. He’s not going to make Wash sit through his shitty speech. Anyway, the man probably won’t want to see it. Wash has got more important things to deal with after all. Like staying alive with two bloody holes in his throat.

It doesn’t stop there. The nagging questions follow Tucker into battle.

He takes down those flag obsessed morons with ease, using every badass Freelancer move Wash ever taught him.

Tucker goes in for another attack, breathing hard. But wait–is Wash still breathing?

Did he just take his last breath? Did it hurt? Was he awake? Was he scared? Was anyone with him? Did someone hold his hand? Did he wonder where his team was?

And they keep coming.

Tucker looms over Temple, energy sword crackling in his hand. The glow reflects off his own blue armor and Temple’s blue armor, his blue visor. Blue. Blue. Blue.

Will I know Wash is gone?

Will Tucker feel something the moment it happens? Will he be able to recognize a post-Washington world? Tucker’s a soldier at war–he’s had people die on him before, even friends. There hadn’t been any magical moment of knowing. But Wash is… different.

Wash can’t die. Wash doesn’t die. He comes crawling back like the ornery little cockroach he is. You can shoot him, blow him up, toss him off cliffs, and drop a fucking spaceship on him. But Wash is always going to be there with the smirks he tries to hide when Tucker makes a joke (“Your head’s big enough as it is. You don’t need any more encouragement”). He’s always going to be there at three a.m. to sit on the floor and color with Caboose when the blue soldier has a nightmare or is just missing Church. Every morning he’ll be there hovering over the coffee pot when Tucker finally rolls out of bed, ready to offer a cup while he downs his third (“Leave me alone, it’s not even that strong”). He’ll be there with his high-pitched angry voice and dumb martyr complex. And his annoying stickler-for-the-rules attitude. And his smug teasing (“Sounds like you really fucked up”).

Then Loco’s shitty machine works because of course it does. This is just what Tucker’s life is now. And Church is there. Not Epsilon. Church Church. Tucker’s best friend from his days in Blood Gulch stands there alive and grouchy as ever. And then he’s gone. Again.

That’s a hell of a lot to process and Tucker feels a little like his mind is breaking, but those fucking thoughts are still coming through loud and clear.

Will I get to tell Wash about this?

Will the Freelancer laugh and shake his head when Tucker inevitably embellishes bits? Will his eyes soften with sympathy when Tucker acts like he doesn’t care they had to face saying goodbye to their dead friend yet again? Probably for real this time. Probably.

They save the whole goddamn world. An entire planet–billions of lives.

Will he be proud of me?

At first, there’s no time to worry and then there’s no need. The lieutenants arrive on the beach and tell them so.

And apparently, after the Freelancer’s third rendition of the Ducktales theme song, he’d had a few moments of clarity during which he asked about the Reds and Blues.

Where are they? Did they win? Is everyone alright? Is Caboose okay? Is Tucker here?

Is Tucker here?

At the time the teal soldier brushes it off with a smirk and a joke. “Jeez, dude, way to sound desperate.”

The others give him strange, sad looks but say nothing. Not that they need too. Tucker feels like an ass the second it comes out of his mouth.

The truth is that one secretly kills Tucker because that’s Wash-speak for ‘I want to see Tucker–Can I see Tucker? I need Tucker to tell me everyone made it out and Temple is gone.’ Because Wash not only sucks at asking for things, he’s got deep-rooted trust issues with medical personnel. Meaning, he won’t believe anyone when they assure him everyone’s fine–not until the Reds and Blues confirm it themselves.

“Is he going to be okay?”

They got back to Chorus to find out that within a span of twenty-four hours, everything’s gone to shit. It might have been an infection. Tucker didn’t hear anything else Grey said after the part where Wash stopped breathing.

“Is he going to be okay?” Tucker asks again when he’s answered with silence.

The doctor leans back in her chair, hands folded neatly in her lap.

“We have Agent Washington on a ventilator,” Grey explains, voice unnaturally level. “Meaning the machine is essentially breathing for him.”

“And?” Tucker presses. The slow pace of the conversation is starting to make him see red.

“He just experienced a severe trauma…” Grey lifts her glasses to wipe the sleep from one eye. “His body’s struggling to keep up.”

Tucker swallows down the thick anger bubbling up his throat and focuses on not punching the desk again.

“But is he going to be okay?” He asks yet again, forcing his voice steady.

Grey meets his gaze with tired eyes.

“It is too soon to tell.”

It’s what comes after that Tucker has trouble with.

Imagining Wash die has always felt like a game over, so to speak. Sad 8-bit music plays followed by a black screen. You Lose. Game Over. Return to Main Menu? Yes or No?

The months Tucker spent with the New Republic were a harsh dose of reality. That’s when it hit him that life moves on without Wash and Tucker kind of hates it.

That’s the final truth of the matter. When–if Wash dies, the teal soldier’s going to continue having dumbass adventures with his dumbass friends, one dumbass short.

Blue team will be without a leader. Again. Everyone will expect Tucker to step up because he’s the logical choice. Of course, he doesn’t want that but who’s going to listen when the only other option is Caboose? Tucker barely trust his ability to keep himself alive some days. How’s he supposed to lead others?

With Wash gone he’s only got one teammate left. Sure, there’s the Reds and the whole conflict between the teams was fake from the start. But the teams are very real, and the bonds those teams created. What happens when Tucker has to look after Caboose by himself? Sure, Tucker raised Junior, but that was back in Blood Gulch surrounded by a bunch of fuckers who couldn’t shoot their own foot if they tried. Out here there’s a real war going on. What if Tucker makes a bad call during battle? What if he gets Caboose killed?

Just like he got Wash killed.

Then he’ll be alone.

Over the years, this is what Tucker’s grown used to: a hard-plastic chair beside a hospital bed. White walls and too bright lights reflecting off metal equipment. Goosebumps and chilly rooms without even windows to help warm them. Pregnant silence punctuated by the digital chirp of machines.

Why do the two of them always end up here?

This time around there is one thing different.

Tucker will never admit this to anyone on the pain of death but sometimes after Wash falls asleep in the infirmary, the teal soldier stays in his chair beside the bed for another hour. Tucker watches how the Freelancer’s expression softens in his sleep, how his eyelids stir while he dreams. Then Tucker closes his eyes so the only thing he’s aware of is the even whisper of Wash breathing in and out. And he pretends they’re somewhere else–anywhere besides a hospital room on a war-torn planet. He pretends Wash is okay and is sleeping naturally without the help of a boatload of painkillers. Caboose is in the other room and the Reds are outside doing their thing. And everything’s good.

Tucker can’t do that here.

The ventilator keeping Wash alive sucks in loud, hollow gasps one after another in a constant beat. Air rushes through tubes snaking from the machine, past the man’s lips, and down into his lungs. Wash’s chest rises and falls with wheezes that sound distinctly lifeless. They’re more like death rattles than breathing.

So instead, Tucker sits by the edge of the bed, eyes locked on Wash’s limp hand as the sim trooper grips it tight with both of his own.

Tucker lets loose a shuddering breath, his shoulders slumping.

“Hey, dude–” He starts but chokes. The words can’t quite make it out around the lump in his throat.

Tucker coughs and tries again. “Hey, so… it’s me. I don’t actually know if you can hear me or not since you’re in a teensy bit of a coma. I asked Grey but she started speaking, like, science at me and sent me thirteen separate medical studies on the awareness of coma patients.”

Tucker runs a hand through his hair and scratches the back of his neck.

“I think, like, half are convinced you can hear me right now, and the other half are convinced you’re dead to the world. So, there’s a fifty percent chance you’ll hear this and that’s better than nothing, I guess.”

Tucker snorts to himself. “Yeah, I know thirteen doesn’t really work out to fifty-fifty. I knew you’d have a problem with my math, but… hey…” His eyes sting.

“Why don’t you wake up and do something about it?”

And just like that Tucker is crying. Full on crying with tears rolling down his face and breath hitching in his throat as he tries to speak around the sobs.

“Fuck you, dude. God, just… Fuck you.”

Tucker’s leaning over the edge of the bed, hands wrapped around Wash’s like the sim trooper’s scared it will slip away. His grip is slick with tears as he presses their joined hands to his forehead.

“T-they told me you kept asking if everyone was okay.” Tucker gulped. “Which is bull-fucking-shit because–yes. Everyone’s fine, but that's–that’s not right.”

Tucker sucks in breath after breath. He’s a mess. He can’t stop the tears flowing, and his nose is stuffed up, and his voice is strangled.

“Because you aren’t okay,” Tucker croaks, eyes scrunched shut as he presses his cheek to the back of the Freelancer’s hand. “And–and if you’re not okay, everyone is not okay. You hear me, you fucking idiot? Don’t ask if everyone’s alright because you’re part of everyone…”

Don’t ask if everything’s okay because you’re everything.

Tucker never gets that last part out. He’s too distracted because at that moment he squeezes Wash’s hand.

And Wash squeezes back.

#RvB Angst War #tuckington #agent washington #Lavernius Tucker #rvb fanfiction #red vs blue #rvb #angst #discussion of character death #hopeful ending #wordsywriteswords #wordsy writes words #POSTED WITH THIRTY MINUTES TO SPARE MOTHERFUCKERS

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