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leon-scott-kennedy · 3 years

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Distrail

Chreon, Rated-T

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For a price, anyone could check into a seedy motel, even three people covered in blood, guts, and grime, no questions asked, especially with the ashes of Raccoon City still cooling 100 miles away. So the horizon still held a faint glow of destruction when Leon and Claire stumbled, barely conscious, through the front door of the Tadpole motel at 2 PM October 1st, using each other as support and Sherry clinging to Leon’s back like a koala if a koala drooled and snored.

Two other motels along the highway turned the odd couple away, rumours already flying about Raccoon City, zombies, and a nuclear cover-up. But at the right price, triple the going rate, Claire managed to convince the manager to let them bunk down, courtesy of Leon’s stressed credit card.

The fact Leon’s credit card worked, or that he even still had his credit card, was a miracle. His wallet hadn’t exactly been a priority, and honestly, they could sleep in a cockroach-infested basement, and Leon would be happy because they were dead on their feet after hiking on foot what Leon estimated to be a good 30 miles of rough terrain to get to the nearest town. The sun barely peeked over the horizon when the sky behind them exploded.

Raccoon City was gone. The people Leon had sworn to defend were gone. Sherry and Claire were all he managed to protect, and he’d be damned if he failed now.

The motel room wasn’t terrible; two double beds, a small tube TV, and a leaky faucet. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t something out of a horrible nightmare. They’d left that behind them.

“I’m glad we don’t have a blacklight,” Claire joked, but her tone fell flat.

Leon nudged the bed farthest from the door suspiciously with his boot, dragged back the yellow duvet, and inspected the mattress before he lay Sherry down and tucked her in. He even let Claire shower first, insisted, while he watched Sherry sleep, tossing and turning and whimpering from reliving the horrors in her dreams until Claire emerged from the bathroom, hair still damp, and crawled into bed beside Sherry.

By the time Leon scrubbed his skin raw, the water was cold, and Claire had passed out cold with Sherry cuddled up beside her, little hand tangled in the front of Claire’s dirty tank top like a lifeline. Leon passed out face first on the other bed. He couldn’t even muster the energy to get under the covers.

Movement woke Leon. He jolted awake, reaching for his gun on the bedside table, only to find Claire, fully dressed, perched on the end of his bed and tugging one of her boots. She smiled sadly at the gun levelled at her head.

Leon lowered Matilda, gasping for air. His arm fell limply to his side. “Claire?”

“Hey.” Claire pulled on her second boot. “Sorry.”

Leon blinked at the sleep crusting his eyes. “What... what are you doing?”

Claire sighed and set her foot back down solidly on the ground, hands grasping her thighs. “I need to find Chris. I need... I need to know he’s okay.”

“Now?” Leon glanced at the clock. The bright red numbers read 7:46. The setting sun outside glowed faintly behind the curtains.

“If you ever need me...”

“Forget me. What about Sherry?” Leon snapped, somewhat mollified when Claire winced.

“I know you’ll take good care of her.” Claire’s attention briefly snapped to the sleeping 12-year-old that had survived literal hell. “Leon... if I didn’t have to.”

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever,” Leon scoffed, then rolled over. His heart thundered in his chest. He heard Claire briefly wake up Sherry to say goodbye, promising they’d be in touch, that if Sherry ever needed her, all she needed to do was call.

The door creaked open. Leon clenched his eyes shut, willing down the panic swelling in his chest until it ached. This was it. He was all Sherry had left. They were on their own.

“Take care of our girl for me.” Claire’s voice was barely a whisper.

Leon’s hands trembled, buried in the sheets and pillows, he struggled to suck down air, and his hearing fuzzed. Claire was gone.

For hours, Leon faded in and out of consciousness, barely able to keep the crush of dread at bay. Finally, at some point around 3 AM, he gave up all pretense to sleep and kept a vigilant guard. He jumped at a car alarm, tensed at the slam of a door, and clenched Matilda tightly when soft footfalls passed their door. Eventually, Sherry climbed into his bed to watch early morning cartoons with him.

“Is Claire going to be okay?” Sherry asked softly. She hugged Leon’s arm, cuddling into his side like he used to with his grandma.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about her,” Leon said. He slumped to the side, gently resting his head on top of Sherry’s. “She’ll be fine, kiddo.”

When the sun rose, Leon and Sherry trekked down to the front office to extend their stay another night, then hiked into town searching for clothes and sustenance. Being out in public, surrounded by people, set both Leon and Sherry on edge. They jumped at the slightest sound, and Sherry refused to release Leon’s hand for anything less than going to the bathroom, and even then, he had to stand guard outside the stall. Thank god he had pissed before they left the motel because Sherry was clinging to the back of his jacket while he tried seemed ridiculous.

Their shopping trip was quick. They grabbed what they could, Sherry setting a brisk pace through the little thrift store they found, dragging Leon from rack to rack. They scrounged up a few changes of clothes, socks, underwear, which Leon was a little uncertain of, a jacket that fits over his side holster since he had a license to carry, and a backpack that they filled with snacks and a deck of cards from a little corner store. It turns out Leon’s palette was similar to a twelve-year-old.

The tenuous credit limit finally crapped out on Leon when he tried to buy a six-pack at a shady liquor store on the way back to the motel.

“No job. No money. Just great,” Leon sighed.

For the rest of the day, they holed up in their room munching on junk food, watching terrible daytime TV, and playing Go Fish until Leon made the brilliant decision to teach Sherry how to play poker, and she fleeced him for all the Cheetos.

Leon had no plan beyond survive, and he hadn’t even planned for that. His body ached from being tossed by mutated monsters and shot. His wrapped shoulder twinged.

“Shit,” Leon cursed and clutched his wound. They needed help. He needed help. Taking care of a kid without any resources would be impossible; never mind, he’d never taken care of a person in his life. He had no siblings, no parents. His grandma died when he was nine.

Leon smiled at Sherry in reassurance when she questioned him. This little girl couldn’t be another statistic of the system. He could fix that. He would fix that.

Covered in orange Cheeto dust, Sherry crashed around 8 in the evening. The glow of the sun behind the curtain reminded Leon of the mushroom cloud that had enveloped the sky 36 hours ago. Leon’s stomach twisted in knots. Every creak, every thump, every squeaky break, Leon tensed, waiting for something to crash through the door and disrupt the precarious peace.

Leon hunkered down on his bed, the one closest to the door and any potential threat that came for them, and prepared for another sleepless night on edge.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Around one in the morning, his eyes beginning to droop, Leon nearly fell off the bed in his mad scramble for his gun when someone knocked heavily on the door. Checking his clip, Leon cautiously crept to the door, motioning for now very awake Sherry to stay out of sight.

“Who is it,” Leon called.

“Hi. Look, I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Chris Redfield. I’m looking for my sister Claire.”

Leon blinked and glanced back at Sherry, whose head had popped out of the blanket at the sound of Claire’s name. Then, double-checking he had bolted the chain, Leon opened the door a crack to peek out.

A man a little taller than Leon stood under the flickering light outside the door, his hair cut short and a 5 o’clock shadow. Chris Redfield, decorated member of the Racoon City Stars Division. Leon recognized him from the old photo Claire had shown him, but also the records he’d run across during his frantic hunt through the Police Department.

“Chris?” Leon said, astonished it was actually him. He slammed the door, unbolted the chain, and flung the door open again. “What the- Claire’s looking for you. What are you doing here?”

Chris, who eyed the gun uncertainly, brightened at the mention of his sister. “Is she here? The manager at the front recognized her. Said she was here with some guy and a kid.” Chris glanced past Leon into the room to Sherry curled up in the other bed peering out with curious fear from under the blankets.

Leon shook his head, eyes scanning the parking lot. “She’s not here. She left this morning to find you.”

“Fuck.” Chris winced and glanced at Sherry again. “Shit, sorry.”

Sherry giggled into her hands, and Leon rolled his eyes. “I think she’s dealt with worse.” Like the apocalypse.

“But she’s okay. She’s alive?” Chris asked.

“Who? Claire? Yeah. Yeah, she’s fine. Saved my ass more than a few times.” Leon smiled wistfully and then frowned. So Claire had left, and now, here, her brother was trying to track her down. It must be nice to have someone that gave a damn about you.

“Oh, thank god.” Then, finally, all the tension and stiffness in Chris’ posture melted. “I got her message, and...”

Leon scanned the dark parking lot again for any sign of life, then gestured into the motel room. “You should come in.”

“No.” Chris waved off the invitation. “No, I need to find her.” But the fatigue in his voice threatened to topple him, and that would definitely fell Leon if he tried to catch him.

“Dude, you’re dead on your feet,” Leon said. “It’s the middle of the night. Crash for a few hours.”

“Yeah!” Sherry chimed in, bouncing on her bed. “Stay!”

Chris shook his head. “I can’t.”

Leon pursed his lips. “Look, I don’t know you, man. But I do know that if you pass out behind the wheel and wrap yourself around a pole, you’re pretty damn useless to her.”

Chris opened his mouth to argue, and Leon sighed, tilting his head to the side, ready to give up when Chris snapped his mouth closed and cleared his throat. He studied Leon closely, scrutinizing him like he would a suspect, but Chris must have been satisfied with what he found - weakness, terror, immaturity - because he finally said, “just a few hours.” And the anxiety squeezing the life out of Leon eased, just a tiny bit. Enough that he could breathe.

Chris excused himself to run and grab his go-bag, and Leon cursed his stupidity because nothing was stopping Chris from running. That tightness immediately returned, but a few minutes later, another sharp knock sounded at the door.

Leon smiled tiredly and welcomed Chris into the room, relieved to have the company, someone who knew what they were doing; an adult. Leon grew up fast, but he’d never been an adult in his life. Racoon City was supposed to be a fresh start, and now, he was back to square one. Not even. He was in the basement of square one—the root cellar.

Leon finally caught a good look at Sherry with the lights on, still covered in orange dust, her fingers and cheeks stained. “Jesus. Did you eat the Cheetos or roll in them?”

Sherry laughed. “Leon taught me to play poker, and then I won all the cheezies,” she said to Chris, who grinned.

“Nice job.” Chris offered her a high-five, which she eagerly accepted. The hero worship was already forming.

“He gets a little wrinkle right here when he lies,” Sherry said, pointing a small finger between her eyebrows.

“Okay,” Leon said, scooping Sherry off the bed and carrying her off under one arm. “Let’s get you cleaned up and back in bed, munchkin.”

Cheeto dust proved a formidable adversary, but they managed. When they walked back into the room, Chris was standing exactly where they had left him, his bag still slung over his shoulder and his boots laced.

Getting Sherry tucked back into bed became a struggle now that the brand new company hyped her up; no hesitation whatsoever. She liked Chris. She even made Chris put her to bed, Leon faking offence at being disregarded for the new guy, but there was something about seeing a six-foot boulder of a man coax a tiny twelve-year-old back to sleep that made Leon’s chest ache. Especially when Chris told the story of how Claire was convinced that if she left fake teeth under her pillow, she could trick the tooth fairy into giving her more money. It never worked. The tooth fairy left chocolate coins instead. Fake money for a fake tooth.

Leon watched perched on the edge of the other bed, a little envious of Chris’ skill with kids. He double-checked the safety on his handgun, then the clip. Chris eyed Leon as he set his weapon back down on the bedside table, and Leon couldn’t muster the energy to be self-conscious about his paranoia.

Chris may be Claire’s sister and a fellow survivor of Raccoon City, but Leon didn’t actually know him. For all he knew, he was a traitor like Irons or Wesker. Maybe he wasn’t the man Claire believed him to be. What the hell had he been thinking? Inviting a stranger to stay with them?

With Sherry asleep again, Leon and Chris were left to settle in for the remainder of the night. For Chris, that meant shedding his bulky jacket and combat boots.

“It’s Leon, right?” Chris said. He stood awkwardly beside the bed, watching Leon click off the light and climb under the blankets, tucking himself up against the edge of the mattress as close as he possibly could without toppling off. “Claire mentioned you in one of her messages.”

Leon almost facepalmed. He hadn’t introduced himself. He really was doing everything backwards. “Yeah. That’s me. Leon S. Kennedy.” He curled up into a small ball.

“Jesus Christ.” Chris swiped his palm across his mouth. “You’re the new rookie.”

Leon chuckled humourlessly, his hands tightening into fists around the sheets pulled up to his neck. “Was a hell of a first day.”

Chris picked up real quick that Leon didn’t want to talk about it. So instead, he climbed into his side of the bed, the one closest to the door. The mattress dipped under his weight, and Leon tensed. Where else would Chris have slept? The floor? The last person Leon shared a bed with was his ex, who had seemingly saved his life. If she hadn’t broken up with him, if he hadn’t gotten drunk, if he hadn’t slept in hungover as hell, he would have arrived right in the middle of the initial panic, and who knows if he would have survived that. No one else in the department had.

What would it have been like? The screams, the moans, the pleas for help- the sounds still played on repeat in Leon’s head. Lieutenant Marvin Branagh, mouth agape, stumbling towards him with his hands out. Leon had put two bullets between his eyes.

The first indications of a panic attack slammed into Leon. Abruptly, his throat closed. He couldn’t breathe, his vision slid out of focus, and his chest compressed. Like someone reached into his chest and squeezed his heart in a vice. His entire body shook.

Suddenly, a warm voice murmured in his ear, the soothing tone talking him down, calming him. Leon wasn’t alone. He wasn’t trapped in the police station battling endless waves of the undead, the people of Raccoon City he’d taken an oath to serve and protect.

“Leon, kid, you need to breathe,” Chris said. His presence was a solid wall behind Leon. “I’m going to touch you, okay?”

Leon focused on Chris’ voice. His vision began to swim back into focus, his hearing rushed back in a sudden wall of familiar night noises like the drip of the faucet in the bathroom or the lonely car that passed on the highway. He nodded, not fully understanding what Chris was saying. An arm slid around his waist and pulled him back into a firm chest. Leon flailed, seconds from panic again when Chris’ voice rumbled in his ear.

“You’re going to be okay. I got you.”

Leon grasped Chris’ arm, his grip probably tight enough to leave bruises, and he choked on a shuddering sob.

“It’s okay, Leon. You’re going to be okay.”

Gasping for air, Leon rolled over and buried his face in Chris’ chest, and Chris let him. Leon’s sobs were muffled in Chris’ arms, not wanting to disturb Sherry in the next bed. He felt every subtle muscle flex when Chris tightened his grip or shifted them into a more comfortable position. That’s how Leon passed out, wrapped in the reassuring embrace of a complete stranger, one who understood the hell he’d lived through and the fear and uncertainty he felt in his soul.

Morning came quickly. Leon woke up still curled into Chris’ chest with a death grip on the other man’s faded t-shirt. Chris’ nose was buried in Leon’s hair, each soft snore ruffling his hair, but his embrace hadn’t lessened overnight.

The warmth of embarrassment burning, Leon snuck out of bed, anxiously loosening Chris’ hold and dashing for the safety and solitude of the bathroom, horrified at his complete lack of control the night before. No one had held him like that before, at least not since he was a child and his grandma would sit up with him after a nightmare. But, sadly, this was another type of nightmare, a waking one.

When Leon finally mustered the courage to wander back into the room, Chris was up, sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees.

“You okay?” Chris asked the same time Leon burst out, “I’m sorry!”

Chris sighed. “You didn’t do anything wrong. When I showed up on your doorstep last night, I saw right away that you were barely holding it together.”

Leon’s fists clenched at his side. He couldn’t meet Chris’ gentle gaze.

Chris crossed the room in two enormous strides and considerately grasped Leon by the shoulders. “It was the shock finally hitting you. It happened to me too, but I was alone,” Chris admitted. “Hey. Hey, come on. Look at me.”

Leon bit his lower lip, but he slowly looked up, eyes stinging. “I don’t know what to do.”

Telegraphing his movements, Chris gently pulled Leon into a tight hug. “You’re not alone. We’re going to do this together. I want to take Umbrella down, but first, I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Leon jerked back so fast Chris stumbled. “I want to help. I want to make those sons of bitches pay.”

Chris smiled. “Good. But first, I have a safe house.”

Together, they set the plans. Leon and Sherry would meet Chris in two days, hopefully with Claire in tow, at Chris’ new safehouse three states over. Sherry and Leon could catch a bus a couple miles down the highway to get them most of the way. The trick would be getting up the mountain to the cabin. But they were in this together. Hope simmered once again.

Armed with a freshly drawn map on motel stationery, Leon watched Chris pack. Umbrella wouldn’t know what hit them.

“Here. Take it.”Chris handed Leon two rumpled twenties, a five, and a few ones he dug out of his wallet. “It’s all the cash I have on me, but it should be enough to get you there. I’ll drop you off-”

“No.” Leon took the cash, but waved off Chris’ offer to give him and Sherry a lift to the bus station. “It’s in the opposite direction. We’ll be fine.”

“Two days,” Chris promised. Sherry had climbed out of bed and now clung to Chris’ arm as if he couldn’t leave as long as she was attached. He ruffled her hair. “With or without Claire, I’ll be there and we’ll go from there.” Chris grabbed Leon by the back of the neck and dragged him into a gruff hug, their foreheads lightly pressed together. “It’s gonna be okay, kid.”

And Leon believed him. That is, until two hours later when an unmarked vehicle pulled up on Leon and Sherry hiking down the side of the road, hand in hand. They never made it to the rendezvous.

#chreon #leon s kennedy #chris redfield #claire redfield #sherry birkin #re2make #re fanfic #leon kennedy #kennfield

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maddieinwonder · 3 years

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The Eighth

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None, this is a fluff-only zone!

Word Count: 2.3k

Plot: Reader has been in the BAU for one year and a lot has changed, especially her relationship with a certain genius. (Part 1 here!)

Author's Note: Seriously, I wasn't expecting my first two fics to blow up like that. Just, thank you to everyone who read them ♡♡♡

As for this one... I had to write a Part 2, basically as an excuse for me to write good things about everybody in the BAU and go wild with the backstories hahaha I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

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Under the dim lighting of the BAU jet, your pen paused on the small book beneath it, causing a small blotch of ink to seep through its pages. The words usually flowed out of you without inhibition, but today was different, and frankly, you were feeling a little overwhelmed.

You didn't think the team would remember this, but today marked exactly one year since you joined the BAU. As if the universe were smiling down on you, the week also turned out to be a great one - or at least, as good as it could get around here.

The team had just closed a challenging case with minimal casualties, everyone had been ordered to have a long weekend off, and the person you most wanted to spend it with was dozing off beside you without a care in the world. Of course, he didn’t know about your feelings... yet.

Closing your journal, you gave up on writing as your eyes wandered restlessly toward your sleeping teammates.

Your eyes crinkled into a smile when your gaze landed on Hotch. This was the first time you’d seen him actually asleep on the jet, and in your opinion, he deserved whatever rest he could get. Since you joined the team, you had seen the man endure countless late nights in the office. Something you had quickly attributed to the missing wedding ring on his finger.

Yet, he remained a stalwart to the team. He constantly checked in with everybody, shielded the team from messy politics, and even managed to crack the occasional joke. Of course, he was still stoic most of the time, and you weren’t exactly sure if he was capable of blinking, but now you knew the warmth and care he possessed too.

Then there was Rossi, who had defied all your initial expectations. You had thought a celebrity like him to be gracious, maybe a little egoistic, but he was straight forward and meticulous to a fault. Still, it seemed he couldn't escape his nature as a performer, as he shone the brightest in the interrogation room.

The day you first witnessed him in action, your jaw had dropped to the floor, and he never stopped bringing it up in jest. He always joked that he didn't know whether you or the unsub was more shocked, but after that day, he also took the time to mentor you in the craft. You liked to think he was proud of how quickly you were able to put it into practice.

Your eyes wandered to Emily, sleeping soundly in the next seat. With Penelope and JJ’s busy schedules, she had taken on the role of showing you the ropes, and you had become fast friends. Turns out, the both of you were eerily similar: competitive, quick thinkers who never backed down from a challenge.

Unfortunately this meant you were never paired together on cases, but you did have an ongoing chess tournament slash drinking game. The chess was your idea, the drinking was Emily’s, and you were currently winning, much to your obvious pride and the rest of the team's amusement.

The person you actually got paired with the most was Derek; effectively fulfilling the fantasies of many women you knew. But as it turned out, the two of you made a damn good team. His calculated disposition combined with your breadth of knowledge - only rivalled by the good doctor - made you an extremely effective duo, and Hotch picked up on it immediately.

You being younger than him by a few years, Derek made it a point to check in with you often, and in turn, allowing you to glimpse at his pensive, empathetic, and insightful sides. He had become a big brother to you, and you like a sister. A bond that proved to be a strong one, across the many cases you tackled together.

You smiled to yourself, eyes landing on Penelope and JJ, dozing off together under a bright pink, knitted blanket whose ownership was in no doubt. It was rare that the tech analyst came along on cases, but she was always a welcomed presence for everybody involved.

Amidst the sea of gruesome cases sent to the BAU, you had come to look forward to Penny's witty banter, either over the phone or in person. The image of her colourful outfits and her outrageously decorated office were enough to make you believe in a light at the end of any tunnel.

It reminded you of your first case, an extraordinarily challenging one that the team managed to unravel in the nick of time. When you arrived back at the BAU, Penelope was the one to drag you out to celebrate. Little did you know, the rest of the team had also gathered at the bar with party poppers and birthday cake. When you found out that Penny had planned everything, you knew you had earned a friend for life.

As you smiled at the memory, JJ shuffled in her sleep and your attention was drawn to her sleeping figure. You didn’t know how she could look so perfect even when she was asleep. But then again, you’d come to realise that there was very little she couldn’t do.

You had already been friends with the communications liaison, but working with her in the BAU was a completely different beast. Of all the chaotic personalities in the BAU, only JJ had a hold over every single one. She was able to apply the same to the local police and media, and still meet the victim's families with the utmost grace and empathy.

During her brief window of absence when Henry was born, things just weren't the same. You liked Jordan, and you knew she always gave her best, but there was an unmistakable sigh of relief when JJ was back. And although she never asked for it, you and Penelope did everything you could to give her and Will a break from their newborn, including regular movie nights in with baby Henry.

Last but not least, the one that you couldn't forget even if you tried, Dr. Spencer Reid. You had joined the BAU because of him, you realised now. But what began as professional interest, had quickly developed into a full blown crush on your co-worker.

You realised this fact on an absolutely unremarkable day, except for the fact that your heart skipped a beat when Spencer walked into the office that morning. He wasn't wearing anything out of the ordinary, his usual combination of sweater vest and shirt, but when he smiled at you, your face flushed visibly and you wanted to melt into your chair in embarrassment.

If the genius had noticed it, he didn't let it show. But Derek most certainly did. Every chance he got that day, he teased you about your newfound crush on "pretty boy", and soon the news made it to everyone's ears. Emily not in the least, as she used the knowledge to win several chess games, much to your annoyance.

And still, Spencer remained oblivious. Despite how often you sat starry eyed listening to him explain a completely random fact. Despite how many weekends you spent together bonding over your shared interests in Star Trek and Doctor Who. Despite the fact that the seat next to him on the plane was basically reserved for you. You didn't think he knew, because he never made a move.

That's why you decided last week. The next time the team had a long weekend off, you would ask Spencer out on a date. You just didn't think it would happen so soon.

Midway through your thought, Spencer groaned in the seat next to you. His hands lifted to move his hair away from his face, and you resisted the urge to do it for him.

"Are we there yet?" He asked, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

You felt your heartbeat quicken at his voice, gravelly and soft, not fully back to reality just yet.

"No, not yet," you answered back in a whisper. "It's only 3AM. We have about two hours to go."

"Why aren't you asleep?" He asked. His head leaned back onto the headrest, but this time, his face turned towards yours. The two of you were far too close to each other for this to be work appropriate.

"Just thinking." You tapped the cover of your book with your pen in explanation, trying to look anywhere but at him. Spencer hummed in acknowledgement, the sound driving you wild. Then he did something you could have never expected.

"Hey," he began, pulling your gaze to meet his hazel eyes, "happy one year at the BAU." His lips formed a small smile, sleepy but genuine.

"You remembered?" You couldn't fight the wide smile that made its way onto your face, nor the glee that spilled out of your voice.

"Of course. Eidetic memory, remember?" He joked, gesturing at his head. Maybe it was the lack of sleep talking, but you felt like you were on the verge of tears.

"Thank you. Really."

"Hey, hey, hey, don't cry." Spencer said, suddenly sitting upright. He leaned forward as if to touch your cheek, but his fingers lingered in the air in between you awkwardly.

You brought your own fingers to your face, realising that you were, in fact, crying. A small laugh escaped your lips at the absurdity of it all.

"No, no, I'm alright, Spencer. Just overwhelmed, I suppose." You tried explaining, gently wiping the tears from your face.

"Why?" He asked, his voice laced with concern.

“I didn’t expect anyone to remember it, that’s all.” You said, feeling a little ashamed now, but your words seemed to light a fire in the doctor’s eyes.

“Well, whoever forgot it must be stupid because you’ve made a difference in the lives of every single person on this jet.” He said in an uncharacteristic huff.

This was your chance, you realised.

“Hey, Spencer,” you said after a pause, biting your lip nervously, “what difference did I make in your life?”

Spencer looked as if he had been caught, his eyes instantly darted to the seat behind you, his fingers twitching. You tightened your grip on your pen, willing yourself not to collapse from the anticipation.

“Of course, I-I mean, many things can’t be quantified due to its subjective nature, but you did change my life."

"Like?" You pressed on.

"You gave me something to look forward to everyday." He said, his eyes lifting to meet yours. You felt your heart soar a hundred stories above the ground.

"Really?" You were in disbelief, your voice barely a whisper.

"Really. You're... you're intelligent, beautiful, and you open my mind to new things every day. I feel like you understand me in ways the rest can't, and you’re the person I want to tell everything to. There’s nobody else but you.” He blurted out in a single breath, as if he'd lose the words if he waited any longer.

Your eyes threatened to spill tears again, but you blinked them back, preparing to say what you wanted to say to him long ago.

"Spencer... I like you. Like, romantically like you." You whispered, your eyes barely able to meet his. His eyes were wide open, his eyes glancing briefly at your lips.

And in a moment of pure bravery, as he explained later, he placed his hand over yours and squeezed. "Me too. I like you, romantically."

Long after that, he would tell you that he'd never seen you smile so widely before, and he instantly knew that he wanted to be the reason you smiled that way all the time. But in the moment, he just laced his fingers with yours.

You squeezed his hand back. Feeling calmed by his warm touch, you leaned closer to him. You still had one question on your mind.

"Did you know that I liked you?"

"I figured it out eventually. Last month." He said sheepishly. "But I've had feelings for you since a month after you joined the team." His cheeks turned a light pink at the confession.

"You know what? Me too." You blushed, leaning against his shoulder.

“Another thing we have in common now,” he said, resting his head on yours.

You weren’t willing to let him go now that you had him, and luckily, it seemed like he had the same idea, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close.

The two of you fell into slumber easily, not even realising it when the jet had landed back in Virginia.

It didn't take long for the rest of the team to realise the interesting sight in front of them, but not even Penelope's high-pitched squeal managed to wake you up.

In the end, it was JJ who decided to end your unknowing humiliation by shaking the two of you gently. You and Spencer jolted awake, immediately taking in the various smirks and grins from your team in front of you.

"Ok, that's enough guys." Hotch announced. You noticed the small smile on his face before he turned around to leave the jet.

The team - mostly Emily and Penelope - looked as if they wanted to enjoy the sight for a little longer, but at Hotch's word, decided they would leave the teasing till later.

"That's not exactly how I imagined telling the team," Spencer said, when the two of you were finally alone. He ran his fingers through his hair in an action of mild distress, but you noticed the smile that was still glued to his face.

You leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek, enjoying the blush it left behind. "Well, that means less time with them, and more time with you," you teased.

Spencer picked up his bag and offered his hand to you. "I'm counting on it," he said, smiling widely.

You took his hand, your gaze trailing up his wrinkled shirt to his messy brown hair, finally landing on his earnest eyes. Of all the times in the past year you got to be the BAU's Eighth. This moment had got to be the best.

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hailbop1701 · 3 years

Text

Curing a Rainy Day

A sort of five times Star Trek gen fic for your viewing pleasure. I mentioned I would write it but please be aware that I wrote this on my phone late at night and I has no beta. Typos and mistakes will be found. 🤣

-H❤🖖

Word Count: 2,166

Sulu:

Leonard McCoy wasn’t a huge touchy-feely type of man. Well, that’s what he really wants folks to think anyway. He was a doctor and that meant it was his oath-bound duty to cure what ails his patients. Whether it was from a physical malady or an emotional one. The first time he initiated his “Rainy Day Cure” --title courtesy of his daughter-- to one of the command crew he was surprised that it was Sulu of all people. If Len were being honest he thought it would have been Jim. Sure he had hugged the kid in the past but he always let Jim be the one to initiate contact. The reason why is complicated and a story for another time.

When he found him the young pilot was huddled alone in Observation Room Five, his shoulders hunched, his down so his eyes were hidden and mind lightyears away. Leonard had a feeling he knew where. The chaos after Khan and Marcus had caused a lot of damage, and not all of it was physical. They were all still healing even a year later. They had left Kronos not three hours ago and according to the mission report, Sulu’s younger sister was…

Not who she claimed to be. ‘Yuki,’ McCoy recalled her name lamely as he made his way loudly over to the depressed man.

She revealed that she worked for Section 31 and was determined to fix the Federation the right way. Though the term “Right way” is skewed for many folks. War was almost started, again and the Enterprise had to stop it, again. Section 31 now had the last little pebble of Red Matter and was holding it like a…” Nuclear deterrent” as the old saying goes.

Shaking his head Leonard pushed recent events to the back of his mind and continued on his own mission. Plopping down on the couch that faced the giant window of stars, McCoy leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees.

He didn’t offer his apologies or sympathies, he knew Sulu didn’t want them. So they sat in silence. Sulu just shook his head and looked up at the doctor with confusion and betrayal in his eyes. “I don’t - I” he stopped swallowing and the helmsman looked so young Leonard didn’t even think about it until after he had already done it.

He wrapped an arm over Hikaru’s shoulder and squeezed. Sulu stilled for a moment before relaxing and saying what needed to be said, a weight slowly lifting off his shoulders and his chest.

Scotty:

Leonard and Scotty were both having a terrible terrible time. The cold sucked in Leonard’s opinion and being trapped on an ice ball of a planet only confirmed his feelings. Looking over at the Enterprises Chief Engineer, Leonard had a feeling that he wasn’t alone in his thoughts and feelings.

The Scot was curled into a tight ball up against the last running console the entire ‘Fleet base had. He was shivering and muttering to himself, glaring at the distress signal he had rigged up. There was nothing they could do but wait. Rubbing his hands together to warm them Leonard moved toward the console and slid down to the floor next to Scotty. Touching shoulders with Scotty, McCoy tucked his hands under his arms and sighed. There was nothing he could really say to ease the engineer’s anxiety -- which stemmed from Delta Vega no doubt -- so he simply let his presence be enough.

Scotty glanced at Leonard to see that he was looking back at him with calm understanding. Grunting Scotty curled himself closer to the CMO and let the man wrap an arm around his shoulders. They didn’t speak a word and only moved when they heard the sounds of the rescue party on the other side of the sealed doors.

Chekov:

Pavel Chekov was the youngest of the command crew, so he was automatically protected and treated like the youngest sibling of a giant family. The navigator understood that his friends didn’t mean to and that it was just sometimes a reflex but he was getting damn tired of it. Today was his birthday, he had finally turned twenty! Chekov was so pleased to find that after the incident with Khan he was being treated like he should. There was one person who always treated him like he was young and precious.

Pavel found that he didn’t mind so much. Doctor McCoy treated almost everyone that way -- even though he wasn’t that much older than the rest of them -- in an almost fatherly manner. A true caretaker. Chekov allowed the behavior from no one but McCoy.

Leonard walked into “Rec Room Two” taking in the crowd with a softening scowl. A small wrapped parcel gripped in his hand. He looked down at the present, weighing it in his hands carefully. With a sigh, McCoy strode through the room looking for the birthday boy. Jim waved at him wildly from the other side of the room a huge grin on his face. Narrowing his eyes, Leonard saw that his captain wasn’t in fact drunk at all. Grunting in approval he smiled at Chekov who was hurrying over to greet him.

“Happy Birthday Pavel,”

Chekov grinned and his eyes widened at the present presented to him. Leonard gestured for him to open it and the young man did excitedly. The wrapping paper littered the floor a long black box in its place. Slowly opening the box the navigator knocked a silver antique pocket knife into his hands. Examining it closely he looked up at McCoy in confusion.

Leonard shifted nervously on his feet. Clearing his throat he pulled out a similar from his belt. “My daddy gave me this one to match his when I turned twenty. I know your pa wasn’t around as you grew up and so I thought…” his sentence fell into silence. For once Leonard McCoy was at a loss for words. Pavel quickly wiped a stray tear from his eye and grinned at his friend holding onto the gift tightly.

“Thank you doctor!” he said gratefully and Leonard understood that it was for more than just a knife. A small smile graced the CMO’s lips and pulled the kid in for a hug.

With anyone else, Pavel would have been annoyed. This was an exception.

Uhura:

Leonard was tired. He longed for his bed but as he looked around at all of the injured crew he pushed the longing away. There was no time for it. Rubbing the blurry fatigue from his eyes he pushed on. Triage, surgery, aftercare. He really didn’t truly stop to breathe until the middle of gamma shift when the ship was sleepy and quiet. The only noise was the soft beeps and whistles of monitors. His nurses quietly whispering and working.

Christine hours ago told him to stop worrying and to go to bed already but something in him just couldn’t. Blinking dumbly down at the PADD in his hands he sighed and signed off on the next round of Spock’s antibiotics. During the Enterprises most recent scuffle the bridge took a hit and the science station exploded sending the first officer flying, earning him a ticket to medical.

After the fight was over and things had only calmed down to a trickle of wounded instead of a flash flood, Nyota Uhura breezed through sickbay’s doors. She waited patiently and even helped where she could. When Spock came out of surgery and was placed in a private room she immediately went to his side and hasn’t moved an inch since. Jim would have been right beside her if he could afford to. But it appears the admiralty wanted words and had kept him busy since. McCoy had barely just convinced him to get some sleep saying that he would call if anything changes.

That was three hours ago.

Leonard walked -- though Nyota would say shuffled -- into Spock’s room, his eyes going straight to the monitors above the bed. The half Vulcan was resting peacefully. McCoy knew it was only a matter of time before he woke and would go into a healing trance. Something that should be monitored anyway. Leonard quietly wondered who he would grant the opportunity to slap Spock awake this time…

“Leonard!”

The sound of his name made the CMO snap his head in Uhura’s direction. Her eyes were fire, filled with frustration, exhaustion, and worry. McCoy winced, “Sorry Nyota, guess my mind wandered a bit,” he said somewhat sheepishly. Her expression softened a flash of guilt passing through her features.

“You need more rest. You’re going to run yourself into the ground at this rate,” she scolded half-heartedly. McCoy gave her a small smile and a shrug,

"I'll rest when I'm not needed." He whispered and badly covered up a yawn. The hidden meaning behind his words wasn't lost on the linguist though. She pressed her lips into a tight line deciding not to comment. Instead, she rested her gaze on Spock once more her hand inches away from his.

So deep in thought, Nyota hadn't even realized that McCoy had left and come back, a tray with a couple of hypos in his always unwavering hands. Catching her eyes he gave her another encouraging smile. He took care to tell her everything he was doing and how it would help keep infection away. Leonard knew he didn't have to explain but he felt it necessary to fill the quiet with "Illogical chatter" as Spock would surely call it.

Uhura was so tired and so frazzled that she was startled to find the CMO crouching in front of her with concern all over his face. "You need to get some rest Nyota. I can have a cot brought in if you'd like…"

Uhura, let a few tears fall before she bottled it up again. She shook her head wiping her face, "I'm alright Leo. Everything is just catching up to me…" she mumbled with a watery chuckle. Leonard snorted at the nickname she had given him,

"Just let me know darlin' "

And without truly thinking about it he pulled her into a hug. It only took Uhura a second to process what was happening before she wrapped her arms around him tightly. A genuine smile breaking across her face. The first time in hours she felt content, safe, and able to truly breathe.

Jim:

James T. Kirk was a touchy-feely type of man. Leonard supposed it may be from a less than stellar childhood. So whenever Jim would pull him into a one-armed hug or slapped his back or even leaned up against him, McCoy would let him. He would definitely bitch but only half-heartedly, Leonard needed to keep up appearances after all.

So when they found Jim partially dead, hanging from his wrists in a cave all smirks and charm…

Well, no one batted an eye when -- after he made sure that the man would live -- Leonard pulled his best friend in for a hug. Jim just laughed, laid an arm over McCoy's shoulder, and leaned into the hug.

"I only had to get tortured and offered to an alien God for you to hug me. Good to know,"

"Shut up Kid,"

Spock:

No one ever thought the words McCoy, Spock, and hug would ever be uttered but stranger things have happened on the Enterprise.

No stranger than an alien device that turned back time. In a physical sense anyway. Leonard looked down at his adolescent hands and sighed with a heavy eye roll. "Not this again," he grumbled with a shudder.

Looking around the room he saw Jim shouting at Mudd who had bought the alien weapon and decided to point it at him and Spock. McCoy tilted his head, his eyes going comically wide.

Spock!

Where was the green-blooded rugrat? Leonard looked around and sighed in relief at the sight of the first officer. He was hidden under a rickety wooden table. Crouching down Leonard gave Spock a small smile, he waved and gestured for the Vulcan to come closer. Apparently the younger you go the further your mind goes with it. Spock had a mentality of a...of well, a toddler. He couldn't have been more than two.

Spock stared at Leonard intensely before darting out and crashing into his legs. McCoy stumbled a little before he got his footing. Spock looked up at him with wide scared eyes, tears threatening to fall. 'Must have gotten all Vucan-y at four or five,' Leonard thought as he picked up his friend.

Leonard pulled Spock close, hugging him to his chest whispering softly. Spock seemed confused for only a moment before he buried his head into the young CMO's neck.

Jim of course saw it all and later under the threat of meeting his end via an airlock kept his mouth firmly shut. The only thing the Starship Captain said -- which everyone agreed-- Doctor Leonard McCoy could absolutely cure a rainy day.

Tags:

@lauraaan182, @chickadee-djarin, @cowenby2, @bluesclues-1234, @sayuri9908,

#star trek aos #leonard mccoy #leonard bones mccoy #jim kirk #james t kirk #spock #mister spick #nyota uhura #pavel chekov #hikaru sulu #montgomery scott #fanfiction #hailey the queen of typos

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rachelgreyisgay · 3 years

Text

My Stupid Rachel Headcanons

1. kate called rachel sweet girl in 811, and when rachel was brought to 616 she started calling kitty sweet girl and now it’s their term of endearment

2. rachel likes milfs

3. rachel wears her hound uniform but in red bc mojo used it against her...she wants to reclaim it and have that uniform associated with good so that no one can use it against her again

4. i have this scene in my head where brian and rachel are butting heads and brian is trying to get a rise out of her and rachel goes “i don’t have to prove that i have a bigger dick than you, i already know”....blah blah blah something about rachel not having a big dick and then, after thinking through how mad it would make brian, “...that’s not what your sister said” like a petty little bitch

5. rachel only feels like she’s home on three occasions: when she’s in kitty’s arms, when she has the phoenix, and when she’s among the stars

6. rachel unronically wears cargo shorts

7. kitty made her wear that stupid cape that one time, and she only agreed bc kitty designed it for her

8. rachel drinks orange juice straight out of the carton

9. all of rachel's things can fit in a duffel bag. and she doesn't like unpacking that duffel bag.

10. rachel hasn’t slept through the night since she was a child and she often gets up in the middle of the night and eats. this brings about many late-night conversations with other x-men

11. rachel may be on decent terms with logan, but she constantly reminds him that he tried to kill her

12. “you kiss my mother with that mouth??” being said to logan

13. the word “bub” is in rachel’s vocabulary because of logan

14. kitty left piotr at the altar bc subconsciously she knows she loves rachel ARGUE WITH THE WALL

15. i legitimately can’t remember what comic this is from but everyone was supposed to be wearing red and someone asked kitty “where’s your red?” and i can’t remember what kitty said, but idc she said “at home” and she 100% was talking about rachel

16. RACHEL. ADORES. HOPE. this woman has spent her whole life yearning for a family and you’re gonna tell me she didn’t jump all over the fact that she has a niece?? smells like bullshit

17. rachel’s strap is red, duh

18. rachel didn’t know to land in london after escaping mojo, she just hoped really hard she’d make it home. and somehow that brought her to the exact place kitty was

19. rachel calls jp “boober” only because it pisses him off

20. franklin is rachel’s beard. she needed companionship in the camps and there weren’t many ppl to pick from. she does love franklin, but in the way that she loves kurt. not in the way she loves women.

21. rachel has trouble differentiating between romantic and platonic feelings. this is why she confuses her feelings for kurt and franklin. she’s never been shown consistent support and affection from the people she considers friends, so she thinks that when others do that for her it must be romantic

22. rachel is a massive nerd. major star trek and star wars fan. she definitely made kitty and kurt dress up as luke, leia, and han with her.

23. rachel keeps threatening kitty with the idea of shaving her head. kitty is convinced they’re empty threats. they are not.

24. rachel definitely had a crush on illyana. but she also had intense feeling of wanting to be her.

25. rachel gets fucking bent whenever nathan refers to her as his little sister.

26. way way way in the future kitty and rachel head their own team and they go by captain grey and captain pryde...needless to say most of the team is queer.

27. “is that my mom or your mom?”

“does it matter?”

“it matters. my mom never tried to fuck our dad’s brother.”

28. even when she’s not the phoenix host, she keeps her close by wearing phoenix inspired jewelry. a necklace. and arm cuff. a single dangly earring. an ear cuff.

29. rachel has issues with being physically affection to most people.

30. rachel doesn’t like when people touch her without her consent. especially her neck and torso.

31. rachel made a telepathic bond with kitty just like she did with nathan, but she often regrets it bc she hates feeling how hurt kitty is when she can’t fix it.

32. rachel constantly wonders what about her makes so many men approach her and flirt with her. she’s a tall, muscular woman with a mullet who consistently dons massive spikes and mainly non-feminine clothing. what about her says she wants a man’s attention??

33. ray has major resting bitch face.

34. rachel has called brian a pig on many occasions.

35. john grey was the only member of her family that rachel felt really loved her as family.

36. rachel worked with hope prior to her becoming the phoenix bc scott is incompetent.

37. rachel can’t fucking cook (sorry babe) but at the same time, when she first came to 616 she was always hesitant to eat food others made for her.

38. rachel hates the feeling of being drunk. not having complete control of her body reminds her too much of how she was drugged as a hound.

39. but she is a stoner gay

40. rachel has experienced her mother dying multiple times. her bond to her mother transcends the multiverse. and somehow, it gets worse every time.

41. rachel refuses to have any biological children. she’d be open to adoption or her future partner using a surrogate, but honestly has no plans or urge to be a mother at the moment.

42. rachel is a fucking FLIRT.

43. rachel and ruby met and are best friends you can’t convince me otherwise.

44. although she doesn’t necessarily want children, rachel is actually pretty good with kids.

45. rachel hates cops.

46. rachel will always show up to an event dressed better than you (unless you’re emma. emma would win that competition)

47. i’m legitimately stuck between wanting rachel to have no genetic relation to scott and rachel having three biological parents. if she is related to scott, she has his eyes (this one is 100% stolen oop)

48. rachel threatens to snitch on remy to anna marie whenever he fucks up

49. rachel is fucking tough. but that doesn't mean she doesn't cry. she cries quite frequently because of how her emotions and trauma can overwhelm her.

50. rachel constantly wonders why she’s in 616. she originally thought it was her own fuck up, but the phoenix sent her there outside of her control. she feels like she has no purpose. but even still, she vows to keep fighting for mutantkind so they won’t suffer the same fate mutants did in her world. she never realizes that she did exactly that and that it was her purpose all along. if she never landed in 616, she never would’ve become mother askani, and nathan would’ve never lived to raise hope if rachel weren’t there. rachel was integral to bringing the mutant messiah to where she needed to be. and rachel hasn’t realized that she is doing more to protect mutantkind than most. she still feels lost.

51. rachel is a leftist. you want me to believe that she lived through a genocide and came out a centrist? bullshit.

52. this isn't even a headcanon bc she did it in excalibur but she braids her mullet when getting suited up and it looks like a rattail.

53. kitty and rachel 100% recreate that one picture of the women doing their makeup:

and it stars with kitty on top, but kitty can't do makeup for shit (still love you, though) so they switch and it sends kitty into a gay panic.

54. out of everyone in the summers-grey clan, nathan and rachel have the best bond and relationship. although it's not super lovey and affectionate outwardly, they always have each others' back and know they can rely on one another. and they bully the shit out of one another. that's what family is for.

55. fellow lesbian laura teases rachel about her crush on kitty all the time. they also go to gay bars together.

56. while rachel is a butch lesbian, she can rock a mini dress and heeled boots like nobody else (especially if they're leather). but she tends to wear a suit when attending formal events.

57. if she can wear big stompy boots, she will wear big stompy boots. bonus points if she can stomp on someone in them.

58. she loves the 80s. 80s movies. 80s fashion. 80s music. she also has a crush on joan jett.

59. rachel is constantly tucking kitty's hair behind her ears.

60. rachel absorbs the phoenix indefinitely, marries kitty, and fucks off to space and lives happily ever after.

#i think marvel needs to hire me to fix rachel's story #i'm convinced i'm the only person who knows her #and i don't trust marvel with her #especially anyone they hire to write the movies #rachel summers #rachel grey #x-men #marvel #jean grey #scott summers #the phoenix #kurt wagner #nathan summers #kitty pryde #hope summers #illyana rasputin

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sl-walker · 3 years

Text

Tagged by @trixree!

How many works do you have on AO3? 200

What's your total AO3 word count? 1,726,782

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

I’ve been in fandom way longer than AO3. So, in some very rough chronological order: X-Men, Knight Rider, Red Dwarf, MST3K, Star Trek: The Original Series, several one-offs, Buzz Lightyear of Star Command, DCU, due South, Supernatural, Star Wars.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Blackbirds: Year One (Star Wars - All Media Types) Kudos: 921

Staring into open flame (Star Wars - All Media Types) Kudos: 789

Here for You (Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars - All Media Types) Kudos: 706

Adding shadows to the walls of the cave (Star Wars - All Media Types) Kudos: 594

Calling to join them the wretched and joyful (Star Wars - All Media Types) Kudos: 496

All Star Wars. Believe it or not, I’m usually a more niche kind of author. LOL! In some ways, I still am; I tend to think at least some of those kudos are from people who read it despite the Obimaul content. And despite the fact that I refuse to write Maul as some kind animalistic brute.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes. I’m sometimes very slow at it, but I always try to respond to everyone who comments because someone took their time to say something to me about a story I’ve written and that honestly makes my day. Even now. Every single time. It touches my heart, it motivates me, and I want to thank people for that.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Tough call. Shoot. Uh-- often, even when there’s death at the end, I try to wring some kind of triumph out of it. But on AO3, probably Disposable.

Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

OMG, the ShadowKnights. It started off as my sister’s and my shared universe, but over time evolved and expanded and became other peoples’ too. Its fandoms included: X-Men, Knight Rider, MST3K, Red Dwarf, Prisoners of Gravity, Star Trek-- it was just a huge mashup that went on to spawn several AUs and I still love it with all my soul.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

In the past, yeah. I just delete it and block, or ignore.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Selectively and rarely. I have no problem writing it under a psued! Or RPing it under my RP accounts! But for some reason, I get super nervous to write it under my regular penname.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Pieces of them. Enough to annoy, not enough to fight over.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I’m aware of.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

I refuse to choose.

Whats a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Probably And in between the moon and you. It’s still very relevant to Witness me, as a story, it still absolutely is ‘canon’ to the series, and Maul’s talk with Breha that was referenced in there comes around again in early Year Two, but I’ve moved so far past the story that there’s no going back to it. I should probably just mark it finished and add it back into the series, honestly. It has some beautiful scenes in it, and I think people miss it when they read.

What are your writing strengths?

I think it’s probably my ability to go deep? I don’t like writing cardboard. I want every character I put my hands on, even as a cameo, to feel alive. I want to know down to the last what the motivations are. I think that I can extrapolate really damn well how a canon character will turn out when you change their scenario, so they feel true. And-- I think I can turn a beautiful phrase sometimes. I’ve been writing since I was twelve, honestly; if I’m not allowed to say I’m good at it after all this time and work, then to hell with whoever would claim that. I might not be Maclean, but I’m pretty good as SLWalker.

What are your writing weaknesses?

It’s hard for me to plot too far ahead. My friend @b-radley66 is an expert at weaving huge, intricate plots and writing shit that’ll be relevant in-universe twenty years later. But me, I often let the story tell itself; I have some basic plot points, beats I have to hit, but just as often, the story sometimes goes off on its own and I just follow. I think I sometimes get repetitive in word usage or phrasing.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don’t have any. I write the language I know best. But I have RP’d Castiel speaking Enochian, too.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I will never, ever tell. Not even over my cold, dead body.

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

I can’t say. I’ve loved so many stories. They have been told at a time in my life when I needed to tell them; the characters have been my companions on my journey to hope and healing. Picking a single one would be impossible.

Tagging: @wrennette - @shadowmaat - @b-radley66 - @submeowchinegun - @grimark - @doorsclosingslowly - @unspeakablehorror - @inqorporeal - @darthplodder - @aces-to-apples - @quousque

#about the author

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maxmiz · 3 years

Note

Okay, If Max were to propose Mariam on her 23rd birthday, what would it be like? Please write something on this, I am eagerly waiting to see this content written by you.

Firstly, thank you much for the ask @velox-the-knight. I thought I’d do one better and write a short one shot fanfic on this. But I’ve tweaked the facts a little. I’ve made it so that they’re both 28 (23 feels a bit too early for someone like Max to marry idk?) and I’ve not made it on her birthday. But I’ll hope you’ll like this!

Also tagging @stroblitzfalborg, @bakutenmayhem @araingirl @midnightstarr8 @gingericywolf @luxahheart @dangpanterita @turquoisewisteria @tshjortile @hiwataris-bitch and anyone else who would like some Max/Mariam content. Feedback is appreciated from anyone who likes Max/Mariam in the fandom! (This is a hurriedly written short fic, so it may not be great lol)

FAIRYTALE

The path to the dojo was covered in chrysanthemums and a young, blithe man strolled down the road, inhaling the fresh scent of spring into his lungs in the hopes that it would inspire him to finally pop the big question. The golden strands of his hair mirrored the bright beams of the radiant sun above, and twenty-eight-year-old Max Mizuhara strode into his best friend’s house with every ounce of his courage tucked away in a little black box in his pocket. Today was the day that he would ask her to marry him.

The familiar, idyllic setting of Takao’s house greeted him at the entrance and comforted him as he tried to pull himself together and calm his nerves. The oddly mature words of wisdom of his precocious younger sister, Charlotte, surfaced in his mind – if you know she’s the one, then she is. If she’s not, you can move on to other things. Like buying me a Playstation.

His eyes scanned the dojo. He half hoped that Daichi would not spring out of some corner with a bowl of soup in his hand and ruin the bouquet of wild flowers that Max was carrying, by tripping and falling over some rock as usual. Max’s mother, Judy, had not appreciated Daichi’s clumsiness when he had all but destroyed her immaculate designer pantsuit by spilling a drink on it by accident.

I can’t believe that I brought flowers, he thought to himself amused. Max had never really been the flowers-and-chocolates type of boyfriend. Romantic gifts were more of Rei and Takao’s domain. Mariam and Max had always had a jovial, easy-going relationship. They did many things together – from trekking to mountaintops and sleeping under the stars together, to skydiving and dancing at carnivals to which Raul and Julia often invited them. But romantic cliches had never been something that either of them was particularly fond of.

Growing up with parents who rarely lived in the same city, Max had never had the occasion to watch any romance blossom between them. Family dinners were often a cold affair, with his mother being an emotionally distant workaholic and his father being in blissful denial about the crumbling state of their marriage. Even as things had improved between his parents after he had won his first world championship, Max’s faith in romance and marriage had forever been marred by the shadow of his childhood in a dead home.

Yet, here he was, ready to ask the love of his life to marry him, with flowers no less. The irony was not lost upon him.

Oddly, it was his two friends Kai and Hiromi who had suggested that he take flowers with him as he proposed to her. Max could swear he almost choked on his drink as he heard those words leave Kai’s mouth. It made him wonder if, in private, Kai had actually ever given his nature-loving boyfriend Brooklyn any flowers. The thought of a romantic Kai seemed almost as inconceivable to him as the thought of Yuri and Takao’s errant brother Hitoshi hooking up. But stranger things had happened in their world – Balkov becoming a reality show star, for one. He certainly gave the Kardashians some stiff competition in the vanity department. Yuri almost retched at seeing Balkov’s vainglorious Instagram account.

Chuckling, Max looked down at his bouquet as the memory of his last conversation with his friends popped up in his mind.

“You listen to me Maximilian Mizuhara…”

“Actually, it’s just Max,” said Max, cutting her short, meekly.

“Did I say that you could interrupt me?” growled Hiromi, rolling her eyes. “Now, as I was saying…you have to get her flowers! You can’t propose without flowers to a woman who has been raised in the mountains in the lap of nature. Back me up, Hiwatari!”

Kai put down his drink on the table and shrugged. “You heard the woman.”

“You can’t be serious,” said Max, surprised. “And what if she does not like flowers?”

“Then you can take off your clothes and hope that she forgets about the flowers when she sees you in your magnificent birthday suit,” said a drunk Takao, laughing at his own joke without a care in the world.

“Takao!” said Hiromi, smacking him lightly on his head.

“Ow, what was that for?” said Takao, crossly.

“Your jokes are getting worse every day. Soon you’ll give Ivan a run for his money and that is not a compliment. Ask Yuri and Boris. They had to make a jar specifically for him in which he has to drop a penny every time he makes a terrible joke. There was enough money in it by the end of the year for Yuri to buy Julia a gift pack from Victoria’s Secret and have money left over for Boris and Sergei to go drinking expensive wine at Ralf’s vineyard. Do you want me to make such a jar for you too?” said Hiromi, narrowing her eyes.

“If it helps get you your favorites from Victoria’s Secret, why not,” said Takao, playfully.

Hiromi blushed and pretended to text on her phone.

“Okayyyy, get a room you two,” said Rei, laughing.

“Alright, guys, can we deal with my problem before Mr. World Champion here starts his drunken monologue? Is it yay or nay on the flowers? Won’t it be too cliched for Mariam to appreciate?” said Max, frowning.

“Make it so that it isn’t,” said Kai, in a deep voice.

Make it so that it isn’t. I hope I’m doing this right.

Max walked further into the dojo to see Mariam sitting on the porch, with her long blue strands of hair casually tied up on top of her head in a bun. She was dressed in a white shirt and red skirt, while a tattoo of Sharkrash on her smooth, porcelain skin glimmered under the light of the sun. Max gasped as he watched his beautiful girlfriend concentrate on the book that she was reading, one that Max instantly recognized as his favorite, personal copy of Bitches Gotta Beyblade. Ming Ming had written quite the tantalizing but wonderful biography of her life as a beyblading and singing sensation – and though Max had initially found her annoying during her BEGA days, he had come to admire her over the years. Juggling school and Beyblade while winning Grammys every year was no mean feat.

As Max stepped into the garden by the little pond, Mariam lifted her face from her book and looked at him with a smile on her face.

“Maxie. What’s up? Why are we meeting at the dojo when neither Takao nor grandpa are here? Feels a little weird,” said Mariam, suspiciously.

“Weird? Why is that? We’re always hanging out at the dojo on weekends,” said Max, hiding the bouquet behind his back.

“You know…like we’re trespassing or something while he’s not around,” said Mariam.

“Trespassing? Did your conscience prick you like this when you were stalking me day and night to seal my bit-beast?” teased Max.

“For the last time Max, I wasn’t stalking. I was just gathering intel,” said Mariam, feigning annoyance.

“Alright, Mata Hari, pipe down,” quipped Max. “Ozuma can’t hear you, you know. We both know that you couldn’t get enough of me.”

“Oh yeah, and who was the one putting on all the moves in a collapsing building? Seriously Max, who flirts when they’re almost about to get crushed by a building?” said Mariam, playfully.

“Guilty as charged, m’lady,” said Max, laughing.

Mariam uncrossed her legs and leaned against a wooden pillar casually. “What have you got behind you?”

A romantic cliché, that’s what.

“Hmm, let’s see,” said Max, pulling out the bouquet and presenting it to her.

“Flowers…” said Mariam, surprised.

“Not just any flowers,” said Max, handing her the bouquet.

Mariam looked more closely at the bouquet and Max could see her face lighting up.

“Orchids…from my village in the mountains…” said Mariam, looking touched.

Max knew that Mariam missed her village frequently. Even though she quite liked her life as a marine biologist, free from the shackles of her tribe’s strict and conservative rules, Max often found her wistfully longing for the mountains that she called her home. He knew that if flowers were the way to go, he would personally write to Yusuf and request him to send them to Japan, where he and Mariam were living temporarily after taking a sabbatical from their jobs in California.

“What…what’s the occasion?” said Mariam.

Oh boy, here goes.

“Well…I don’t know how to do this…” mumbled Max, as he slipped his hand into his pocket.

Mariam watched him curiously as he pulled out a little black box.

“Oh…my…” said Mariam, intuitively, the minute that she laid her eyes on the box. “Are you asking me to…”

Max stared at Mariam, unsure about how to proceed with it. He stood quietly staring at her for a solid two minutes until Mariam said, “Uh…Max?”

Kneel, you moron. You can gawk at her later, thought Max as he mentally slapped himself, before going down on one knee.

“Mariam…I never thought that there’d come a day that I’d find myself asking you…or anyone, to marry me. I have never believed in fairytale endings or happily ever-afters. And I don’t believe that being with you is my fairytale ending, because nobody knows what the future holds. But you certainly are the beginning of my fairytale. Now I wish I had Rei’s eloquence to be able to come up with a romantic poem on the spot, but that’s not me. I’m all smiles and jokes and mustard on noodles and we have had always had an unconventional relationship. So, in the spirit of that…” said Max, opening the box, mid-sentence.

Okay, here goes nothing.

Much to Mariam’s surprise, Max pulled out a red, silken bandana from the box and tied it around her forehead.

“I could have got a ring…and I will after this, but I don’t do cliches. Now, I’m 14 years late, but here’s a long overdue replacement for the bandana you tied around my arm when I injured myself protecting you in that collapsing building. I’m tying this around your forehead as a promise to protect you for as long as I can, no matter how many buildings collapse on us and no matter what hurts me in the process. So…will you…marry me?” said Max.

Mariam gasped. She looked like someone had punched her in the gut.

“You know, Takao’s garden has just been hosed an hour ago. My jeans are getting soaked in the mud. Could you answer faster?” said Max, sheepishly.

“Well…yes, you idiot!” said Mariam, throwing her arms around Max and hugging him tenderly.

Kissing her softly on the cheek, Max pulled away and looked into her gorgeous green eyes. He had spent many a night looking into them, but this was the first time that he had seen a touch of vulnerability in them. If anything, her eyes looked even more beautiful now.

“Oh, that was so fucking cute, I’m going to faint!”

“Hell yeah, go Maxie!”

“Max, you dawg…”

Shocked, Max and Mariam looked to the left to see their friends peering at them from behind the dojo and giggling amongst themselves. Kai and Brooklyn did not seem to partake in their laughter, but smiled approvingly at him and Mariam.

“How long have you guys been there?” said Max, going red in the face.

“Long enough, buddy,” said Takao, bellowing with laughter.

“You promised you’d be out,” said Max, embarrassedly.

“And miss this? Never!” said Hiromi, slyly.

“Oh yeah, Kyouju even taped it,” said Rei, giving their bespectacled friend a nudge.

“It’s time for some celebration!” said Hiromi.

“Drinks in the garden?” said Takao.

“On it,” volunteered Brooklyn. Kai joined him to go into the house and fetch the celebratory champagne.

Max looked at his friends and then at Mariam, and smiled. He had finally found a sense of contentment that had eluded him for most of his life.

The beginning of a fairytale indeed.

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leverage-ot3 · 4 years

Text

notable moments from The Two Live Crew Job

leverage 2.07

Sophie: I love the symbolists.

- - - - -

🥰 I love when the ot3 are together in one frame 🥰

- - - - -

the dogs playing poker painting tho

- - - - -

Eliot: Any sudden movement's gonna cause displacement of the water. It'll set it off.

Parker: Is that C-4?

Sophie: Oh!

(Nate grabs Parker’s hand before she can touch the vase)

Sophie: Parker... please don't poke at the motion-sensitive bomb.

Nate: So, uh... secret admirer?

Sophie: Well, it's no secret they want me dead.

Hardison: What do you think, man?

Eliot: I'd have to reach into the vase to disarm it. It'd go off.

eliot’s lips quivered when he said that bc he’s so nervous for her im-

- - - - -

Parker: Do you have any instant pudding?

(everyone looks at Parker in surprise. Cut to Parker pouring pudding into the vase)

Parker: The powder hardens the liquid, tricks the bomb into thinking it's not moving.

Eliot: Should give you a little wiggle room. Very little

MASTERMIND PARKER

- - - - -

(mourners are gathered around a casket with a line of black cars parked nearby. An open casket shows Sophie lying inside. Eliot is standing at a podium)

Eliot: She had a way of taking care of people, you know? She was a sister... she was best friend, all rolled into one. I'm gonna miss you, Soph-- So-O-O-O-O much, Katherine.

(Eliot leaves the podium. Hardison stands to let Parker walk by and she approaches the podium. Nate stands at the back of the crowd, Eliot joins him)

Parker: Katherine and I have known each other forever. Almost two years. Yeah, I know that probably doesn't sound like a lot to you, but it is to me. I never really had many friends. Which is why losing her is so hard. (sighs) It's so creepy. I mean, she's really dead. I was just talking to her and now she's just laying there. She was just laying there.

(Nate coughs and Hardison gets up to go to Parker)

Parker: Can you hear me?

Hardison: Parker. I'm -- I'm sorry. I'm sorry, y'all. What – What she really means is just, um, Katherine was like family. And sometimes, friends are all the family that you have. So... you -- you good? Come on. Just – let -- just keep going. You got all hysterical and emotional

- - - - -

btw there is at least one door from behind the briefing monitors which means they have at least one extra room (most likely more) from the adjacent apartment eliot knocked the wall down from

they have guest rooms or something back there for if anyone needs a place to crash

- - - - -

Sophie: We used to work together. We did the Copenhagen job in '97, the Berlin Polytech job in '98, and, Nate, remember – Remember that great run in Moscow?

Nate: "That great run"? I chased you for three months.

Sophie: Well, uh, technically, y-you chased us. Sorry.

Hardison: Are you saying that you saw other teams before us?

Parker: Really just another Nate before Nate.

Eliot: Let me ask you a question -- what bugs you more, is it the fact that he was with Sophie first or that he outsmarted you?

Nate: Moving on

eliot puts his arms over the couch and behind parker and I’ll take it + them grinning at each other seeing nate’s discomfort

- - - - -

mikel is wearing flannel in this one and you can now take bisexual mikel from my cold, dead hands

- - - - -

Sophie: Wrong place, wrong time. Starke must have seen me, and now that I’m one of the good guys, decided to get rid of me, because...why? Because... Because I know his scams. Because... I know his favorite scam.

[Warehouse]

(Stark’s team is sitting on crates looking at monitors as he goes over the job)

Starke: Cafe and a moonlit terrace.

Sophie (voice over): The Mona Lisa variant.

[Briefing Area]

Parker: Oo! (claps) That was the first one I learned!

- - - - -

(Hardison is drinking orange soda and working on a computer as Sophie watches)

Sophie: I'm not dead. I'm right here, Parker. So, this is, um, it's what you do, right? You take footage of us on cons and you -- you -- you -- download it into that?

Hardison: Yeah, I analyze it, I monitor comms, I scan for a police frequencies, I -- You had no idea I do all this, did you? Well – d-does nobody respect the van? The van is important. What -- What is that?

Sophie: It's lemon-Zest tea. I got to tell you, it's -- It's a little bit -- It's a little bit whiffy in here.

Hardison: It smells like hard work. That's what it smells like. D-- Whiffy

sophie has no idea what hardison does and does not like the van smell. hardison is ready to go off

- - - - -

Sophie: That was some nice things you said at my funeral.

Hardison: Wait. We -- We trust Nate to make sure the plan works. We trust you to make sure we’re all okay.

- - - - -

Starke: Word is on the street that you run the nastiest crew this side of the Atlantic.

Nate: Well… what?

Starke: Come on. Everybody knows. You robbed a bank and you -- you framed a judge. You rigged a jury to steal a million-Dollar settlement. I hear that you even conned the Irish mob out of a couple of million dollars just this year. Now, that's style.

Nate: That's one way of looking at it.

Sophie: Listen, Nate, if you tell him the truth about us, we're blown

- - - - -

Hardison: I know this style. This is Chaos.

(computer screen flashes signal found. Hardison grabs his keyboard and heads for the back door of the van)

[Parking Lot]

(Hardison exits his van and a little ways down the parking lot, Chaos exits his van with a laptop in his hands. They square off like an old west gun fight)

Hardison: Chaos. I heard you were in jail. Guess I was wrong.

Chaos: Hardison. I heard you sucked. Guess I was right.

(they eye each other across the lot, their fingers twitching. Abruptly they raise their keyboard and laptop and begin typing while car alarms start going off)

this wild wild west showdown tho

- - - - -

Nate: Okay, now, we know Starke. This guy goes by the name Apollo. I've chased him a couple of times -- infiltration, physical security.

Parker: People in that line of high-risk work tend to be very unstable. We could use that. Write that down.

(the rest of the team exchange glances)

🥰 she’s sitting next to eliot with popcorn between them 🥰

- - - - -

Hardison: Now, this person here's ex-Mossad, sealed records. Mikel Dayan used to work both sides as a mercenary.

Eliot: Mikel Dayan. I know that name.

Hardison: You were scared to fight a girl.

Eliot: She'd mop the floor with you, Hardison.

Hardison: I don't care.

Eliot: Seriously. She actually killed a guy once with a mop. It's a funny story, actually. (starts gesturing time parker) She broke the mop and took --

Hardison: Eliot. Eliot. (turns back to monitors) Now, this here's Colin Mason, otherwise known by his hacker handle as "Chaos." As... whatever. Hacked the pentagon, the NSA. The CIA computer guys call him the Kobayashi Maru.

Eliot: What the hell is that?

Hardison: None of y'all got that? Seriously?

Parker: Star Trek.

Hardison: Thank you

parker’s reluctant fistbumb I love them + it’s officially canon that she’s seen at least some of the movies

- - - - -

Nate: I tried to say to her I’m sorry, you know, and I don't –

Security: Because, as men, we're taught to hide our emotions. You share or you pay the price.

Nate: Yeah

- - - - -

Mikel: You wouldn't hit a girl, would you?

(Eliot walks forward, taking off his jacket and hanging it on some pipe)

Eliot (in Hebrew): Not unless she hits me first.

(they approach each other and begin to fight, blocking each other until Mikel hits Eliot in the chest, knocking him back. He touches where her blow hit.)

Eliot (in Hebrew): That counts

let me just say I LOVE that they had a woman hitter

- - - - -

Starke: What is going on, guys?

Guard: Motion sensors went off, sir.

Starke: I already checked that out. Everything's secure. And who's this?

Guard: Uh... he just got lost. No problem.

Starke: Sir, you okay?

Nate: Yeah, I’m fine.

Starke: I'm Nathan Ford. I'm with the insurance company.

(Nate gives Starke an irritated look)

- - - - -

Parker: What kind of bird did you use?

Apollo: North American Kestrel. It's small-Bodied, but its wingspan is expansive enough that it sets off the motion detectors.

Parker: I would've gone with the Scarlet Tanager. Similar wingspan, but the brighter colors are more distracting.

Apollo: Yeah. That was my second choice.

(Apollo scrambles forward in the ductwork. Parker also scrambles forward, headed another way)

- - - - -

eliot taking off his shirt too? equal rights

- - - - -

Starke: Now, why would you want to kill Sophie?

Chaos: Come on, Starke. (gathering equipment) I had set up the perfect double-cross, and then you want to go and bring in a new player at the last minute? "Oh, and by the way, guys, that new player is gonna be Sophie Devereaux." There's no way I’m gonna try to out-con Sophie Devereaux! And I hate to break it to you, Starke, but she was the one that everybody was always scared of. It was never you.

- - - - -

[McRory’s Bar]

(Parker and Apollo sit at a table with locks)

Parker: Go.

(they begin picking locks to see who is fastest. Across the room, Eliot and Mikel sit at a table)

Mikel: I can top that. (pulls her shirt aside to show a scar on her shoulder) Frag grenade, Somalia.

Eliot (pulls up his sleeve to show scar on his arm): Myanmar. Sniper.

Mikel: I was a sniper in Myanmar for a while.

Eliot: When?

Mikel: 2003.

(Eliot looks surprised. Mikel holds up the handcuffs and Eliot quickly pulls her hand down)

Eliot: Oh, no, no, no, no, no. We can't have that.

Hardison (walking by): Handcuffs. Y'all nasty

(eliot has a handcuff kink and was probably pegged within an inch of his life that night. I said what I said.)

- - - - -

(Sophie stands looking down at her grave. The headstone for Katherine has been replaced with one for Sophie Devereaux. Nate approaches and stands next to the grave)

Sophie: Starke was right. I'm not Sophie Devereaux anymore. I haven't been for ages. I... you killed her, you and your silly crusade.

Nate: It's just a name.

Sophie: No, they're not just names, not to me. All my aliases, every one of them, I -- I know when their parents died. I know when they had their first kiss.

#leverage #leverage 2.07 #leverage 2x07 #the two live crew job #leverage season 2 #season 2 #notable moments #mine

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astriiformes · 4 years

Text

Tomorrow is the two-year anniversary of the start of my favorite actual play campaign, the Aerois (or second) campaign of High Rollers, which is a British actual-play show DMed by Mark Hulmes (who more of you probably know as his guest character on Critical Role, Calianna). Aerois is so good and I constantly find myself wishing it was bigger like some of the other actual play shows out there, so I thought I’d take it on myself to make a little pitch post to get people interested in the show.

Aerois itself is a really interesting homebrew world that fits solidly into the science-fantasy niche, sometimes even more sci-fi than fantasy. Think Treasure Planet-style airships coexisting alongside classic sci-fi spaceships as well as all the traditional fantasy elements you associate with D&D and you’re pretty close to the vibe of the series. There are magical floating cities, planets accessed by planar travel, and lots of other things that blur the sci-fi/fantasy divide, which is really fun and gives the show a very unique flavor compared to the other D&D shows out there right now.

What I really love about Aerois though is the characters. The world is fantastic, and they use some really interesting homebrew mechanics (like an injury table for when characters go unconscious, which I have to say.... hurt/comfort fans..... it was made for us) that set it apart in flavor, but the characters are the reason I fell in love with the show and have been an avid watcher these past couple of years. They have an incredible ride-or-die found family dynamic, and each and every one of them is incredibly likeable for their own reasons

First there’s Nova V’Ger, the group’s air genasi hexblade warlock, played by Kim Richards. Nova’s a huge nerd (the fact that her last name is a Star Trek reference is very intentional) who adores learning and is fueled by curiosity, but sometimes lets it get the better of her. If you’ve ever wanted a character that’s super bubbly and friendly (and genuine!) but sometimes also the party member to stray the closest to some complicated moral grey areas, she’s absolutely your girl. I haven’t seen those two tropes played so well together before, it’s great. The other really neat thing about Nova is her relationship with her patron, a sentient sword named Tiangong -- instead of going the more traditional route with warlocks and making the patron a dubious, questionable force, Tiangong and Nova both seem to have each others best interests in mind and care a lot about each other. It’s really unique, and I love it. Oh, and she’s super, super bi/pan (as is her player, which makes it especially nice to see).

Lucius Virion-Elluin Elenasto is a high elf sorcerer, played by Chris Trott, with a homebrew subclass focused on drawing magic from colors. He comes across as a pretty stereotypical rich daddy’s boy at first and I never expected to love him as much as I do, but the thing is ,he has a really good heart and it absolutely shows. His naïveté at how the world works is played for jokes at times, but Chris, who plays him, is fantastic at knowing when it will be the most endearing for it to be funny and when it's better to play it straight. The thing I love most about Lucius is that even thought he’s very out-of-touch, he’s incredibly genuine, which is what’s often missing from characters of his archetype. That, and he loves his friends a whole lot, which I’m a sucker for.

Their other elf, Aila is a wild elf (their setting’s wood elf equivalent) storm herald barbarian played by Katie Morrison. She’s very much a “tough girl” character and acts a lot more no-nonsense than the others, but when push comes to shove, she fits into their little found family dynamic perfectly. I would say she has cool big sister vibes -- she might tease her fellow party members, but if someone else picks on the people she cares about, they’re toast. Her conflict between wanting to seem strong and wanting to protects those she loves makes for a refreshingly complicated female character -- and I don’t want to spoil anything, but the backstory stuff that’s coming to light for her is REALLY wild, and gives her whole deal a super interesting, sci-fi twist. Plus, who doesn’t love a gal with a giant hammer and lightning powers?

Qillek ad Khollar, or Quill, is an aarakocra cleric/wizard (he started the campaign as a cleric/bard, but got re-specced to a Divination wizard for the second half thanks to some character developments over the course of the show, which is cool because I think it reflects a very character-driven approach towards mechanics), played by Tom Hazell. Quill is a disabled character, who only has one wing/arm after getting struck by lightning when he was younger, and I really appreciate that his player is very mindful of that fact when playing him, not letting it get forgotten just because the game doesn’t have visuals. He’s also a sweetheart -- very anxious, but caring and willing to step up when the group needs it. I also think his relationship with his god, H’esper, is very cool, as the two of them have conversations in Quill’s dreams somewhat frequently and it feels a lot more personal than some cleric/deity dynamics.

And last but absolutely not least is Sentry, played by Rhiannon Gower, who’s pretty unique right from the start by virtue of being tied into some setting-based lore. She’s a paladin and a Guardian, which is a race of sentient constructs (similar to warforged, but they have some other unique feature specific to Aerois). Sentry was built hundreds of years before the campaign is set, but went into shutdown after a catastrophic event in the world’s past and was only recently re-awoken by Quill. It makes for an interesting story -- she’s a character who has ties to the world’s past and a major campaign villain, and who represents hope to some of the people around her, but who’s readjusting to the new world she woke up in. And personality-wise I would describe her as, like, a slightly awkward but adorable/well-meaning mom friend, which is just a super fun route to take a character like that. Plus! Cool robot! Who perfectly embodies the “She protecc, but she also attacc” meme. I love her.

This is a little long, but it’s because I think the Aerois campaign is really interesting and unique even though it can get lost in the sea of actual play media out there, and I want people to know more about it! If any of this sounds interesting to you, I can’t recommend the show enough, it has an incredibly likeable cast of characters (I didn’t even get into NPCs!) and a sweeping, space-opera-feeling narrative that has brought me so much joy and I just want to share that with other people. They’re up to 77 episodes, which I know is a lot to catch up on (although their episodes are also a fair bit shorter than, say, Critical Role’s), but consider: that also means there’s a lot of it to enjoy. And they also have a podcast, if that’s more your speed.

Basically, I genuinely think the High Rollers cast is putting out some of the best storytelling in the actual-play “genre” right now and if you like D&D shows really, really suggest putting it on your list to watch.

#uhhh #dnd #d&d #dungeons and dragons #i don't know what other tags to put this in for people to see this #high rollers tag

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penpatronuswhump · 3 years

Photo

WHUMPTOBER 2020

No. 30

Fandom: Avengers

Whumpee: Tony Stark

Caregiver: Nebula, Steve Rogers

Title: If Steve Was On Titan

Part 2 of 2

By: PenPatronus // PenPatronusAooO

Steve held Tony tight and rubbed his back. The blue-purple alien was staring at the Titan soil. She looked as devastated as Steve felt. He realized, then, that he didn’t know her name, so he asked her. “Nebula,” she whispered. “Daughter… of Thanos.” She followed that surprising fact with a defeated sigh. “I… she said. She shook her head, then lowered her chin to her chest.

Steve kept rubbing Tony’s back. He hoped that his friend felt some comfort, even in his unconscious state. “Nebula… the Guardians’ ship – do you know if it has medical supplies?”

“Yes.”

“Can we use it to get back to Earth? My friends… I have to know if they – if they survived.”

Mute, Nebula stood and started walking east. Steve, still sore from fighting Thanos, struggled but did manage to lift Tony up into a bridal carry, and followed her. The Guardians’ spaceship was a hundred yards away from the vehicle that he, Tony, Strange, and Peter crash landed in. Even Steve could tell that the ship had been damaged in the battle with Thanos. Not only was it listed on its side because of the rocks that covered it but there was more than one hole in the hull. Steve was about to panic, but then he remembered that Tony had used that same mist of chemicals to seal the hull of the spaceship they’d arrived in. Steve instructed Nebula to take the device out of his pocket. He told her how to operate it and she walked around the whole ship, plugging hole after hole after hole.

Steve carried Tony inside, where Nebula gestured for him to put him on a center table. Steve lowered his friend down on it. When he stood up straight again, he found Tony’s slightly parted eyes staring at his. “Tony?”

Stark licked his lips. “For a moment there, right when I woke up, I forgot that I failed…”

Nebula walked over with what looked like a metal toolbox. She set it on the table at Tony’s waist, opened it, and started sorting through a variety of objects that Steve didn’t recognize. “I checked the engines,” she reported as she worked. “They’re damaged… I’ll do what I can, but at this point we’ll barely make it a lightyear.”

“Tony can fix them,” Steve said.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Cap, it’s an alien spaceship. It probably has components I won’t be able to make heads or tails of. You think I can just push a few buttons and turn a few knobs and hit it with a hammer and I’ll fix it?” Stark winked, then. “Damn right.”

Steve smiled at him, fondly.

Tony’s body shuddered, then. His spine arched upward and he cried out in pain. His hand reached blindly for Steve and Cap took that hand in both of his and grasped it tight. Nebula found what she was looking for – a device that looked like a medical tricorder from ‘Star Trek,’ Steve remembered, but it was horizontal instead of vertical. She held it over Tony’s wound and frowned at the screen. “Hmm,” she exhaled. Then she snapped the device shut, said, “We might as well leave him here. He’s dead,” and walked towards the cockpit.

Tony gave her a thumb’s up. “Appreciate the candor.”

Steve pivoted around the table and chased after Nebula. “Hey – HEY!” He grabbed her by the elbow. She whirled around, and Steve barely dodged a punch. “Easy! Take it easy!”

Nebula pulled her arm away. “Don’t touch me!”

Steve held his palms up. “Ok. All right. I’m sorry. Just, just listen, please. What do you mean he’s dead?”

Nebula gave him a look. “I mean there’s nothing I can do. Thanos shoved that thing right through his bottom ribs. He nicked the stomach, nicked the bowel…There’s nothing I can do.”

Steve’s face flushed and his nostrils flared. “Try,” he growled.

“I’m not a surgeon,” she said. “If I start messing around in his guts, he’ll probably just die faster! I’ve only used those tools a few times before!”

Steve could feel the heat increasing on his face. “So, there is a chance?”

Nebula snorted. “Why should I bother?” she hissed at him. “Half of the universe is dead – why bother with anything?”

Steve’s jaw clenched and unclenched. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I get it,” he growled. “You lost your sister today, and I assume the others were your friends?” Nebula snorted. Steve pointed back at Tony. “That’s my brother dying over there. If it were your sister on that table, wouldn’t you be begging for help, like I am?”

Nebula pursed her lips together. “I can’t promise anything. If he dies, swear you won’t kill me.”

“Why would I—” Steve shook his head. “I swear. What can you do?”

Nebula exhaled hard though her nose. “We have to suction out the blood first. Then – I think I found it – there’s a device that will sew tissue back together. I’ll close up the wounds as best I can, then we just hope he doesn’t get an infection.”

Relief made Steve dizzy. “Thank you,” he said. The pair returned to Tony. Stark’s eyes were closed, but he started awake when Steve touched his shoulder. Nebula put some tools on the table and dug for more. She took out what looked like a scalpel and examined it in the dim light.

“What happened to letting me die?” Tony asked. He looked up at Steve. “If you offered her sexual favors… I approve.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head. “Shut up, Stark.”

Nebula started tugging on Tony’s clothing. Steve helped her strip off Stark’s shirt and jacket. Tony’s naked chest was mottled with cuts and bruises. Steve removed the suit casing and set it on a countertop. Nebula examined the stab wound, scratched at the barrier covering it, and said, “I have to cut this open. Get that tube ready.”

Steve picked up what looked like a handheld vacuum. He laid the plastic tube on Tony’s stomach and prepared himself for the amount of blood he was about to see. Tony, who needed something, anything to hold on to, fisted his hand around Steve’s blue uniform. Nebula filled a syringe with some mysterious liquid and, to the shock of both men, stabbed the needle into Tony’s neck without a word of explanation.

“I like h-her…” Tony trailed off. The anesthesia kicked in, and he fell asleep.

Nebula counted to three and then stabbed the scalpel into the wound, reopening it. Blood bubbled out quicker than Steve could suction it up. The barrier had done nothing to stop the internal bleeding. Cap cursed and did his best while Nebula turned on what looked like a laser pointer. “I can’t see anything. Do it better,” she scolded Steve. “Stick that tube in there!”

Steve took a breath, tried to tell himself that this wasn’t Tony he was mutilating, and inserted the tube deeper into the wound. He must have done something right, because she aimed the laser device and moved it up and down. “I think I sealed the hole in his stomach,” she told Steve. “I’ll keep going…”

A half hour and a couple pints of blood later, and Nebula finished sealing up the exit wound in Tony’s back. She slid the tools into the toolbox, said “There!” and walked away.

“Uh, thanks!” Steve called after her. She didn’t respond. Cap looked around the ship for towels and a sink. When he found them, he washed the blood off his hands, then soaked the towels. He returned to Tony and gently washed the blood off Tony’s back and sides. Then he rolled Tony onto his back and cleaned his stomach, chest, neck, and face. “Hey, do you have any painkillers?” he called to Nebula, thinking about himself as well as Tony. No reply. Steve went looking and found a basket of bottles labeled in an alien language. He opened a drawer and discovered vials of liquid he didn’t recognize. He’d finished searching nearly even inch of the room when Tony woke up. Steve rushed to his side.

Tony’s white, shaking hands landed on his bandaged wound. “Am I, uh, intact?” he whispered. Steve’s face scrunched into an I-hope-so look. “Stellar confidence,” Tony mumbled.

“You’re going to be ok.”

Tony looked at him. “Are you?” he whispered.

Steve hadn’t asked himself that question yet. Thanos murdered half the universe, but Steve hadn’t stopped moving long enough to really think about what that meant. “No,” he concluded in a whisper. “No, I don’t think so.”

“He was a good kid.”

“Parker?”

Tony’s eyes watered. “So many good kids are gone,” he whispered. “Cap… What are we going to do?”

Steve swallowed twice. “We’re going to get you well,” he told Tony. “And we’re going to make it home. And… And then…”

“And then?”

Neither of them knew what to say.

The End

#Whumptober #Whumptober2020 #No.30 #Internal Organ Injury #Avengers #Fic #FanFiction #Avengers FanFiction #Whump #PenPatronus #PenPatronusAooO #Tony Stark #Steve Rogers #Nebula #Bromance #Stony #Stony Friendship #Hurt Tony Stark #MCU

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honestlyfrance · 4 years

Text

The Missing Letters Between Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes and Detective Samuel Wilson

square filled: Detectives AU

warning: innuendo; swearing; the usual gay debunking from historians (subtle); murder cases; car accident

summary:

In the late ending 19th century, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes resigned from his duties as a military officer to follow Detective Samuel Wilson to the ends of the world, even going as far as accompanying the strange and wistful man in his cases. The letters collected by many biographers and museums are only the few correspondents between the two rumored lovers, running between the scrutinized years of 1889 towards the start of 1900, the timeline: The Sergeant running away from a German Spy group after the Detective uncovered a massive Russian Spy Ring decades earlier, calling fair game. Historians still can’t tell the full story that changed Europe, and neither do the letters.

a/n: I have obviously given up on writing, resorting to edits, but I still don’t know if this counts as an edit or a fic lmao anyway they both fit the requirements. Join me in the frustration of this AU and tell me what you think! Brackets mean commentary! Careful - this is pretty long!

@sambuckyevents

[ The few letters curated are in code. Historians speculate it’s to hide the two men’s letters, making it difficult for anyone to read them, but what raises questions were the simple code used in each one: Caesar Cipher, a cipher where each letter of the alphabet is substituted for a letter three positions further. Historians then speculate why had the two men used such a simple and easy code to cipher their letters, and to this day, they cannot offer a concrete answer. The only letter that differed in code was from James Barnes, wherein you have to use a special kind of glasses that merges the two different inks used, red and blue, to form a coherent word. The glasses used to read this letter was owned by Samuel Wilson, but his biographers still speculate on the other colors the glasses are capable to read. ]

17, 8196

[ date still being speculated ]

Dearest,

The only thing keeping me together was you: me wanting you so badly. I couldn’t wait to sleep in our bed, hearing you snore so softly, or watch you pace in the room, a pencil in your mouth, your murmuring dulling me to sleep. I will be awake so

Beloved, Barns

[ Pages missing ] [ Believed to be unfinished on purpose, but is merely speculation ]

[ To hide coherency between their letters, Samuel Wilson initiated using different papers, ashing pages, and using different inks. In his other letters, Samuel Wilson used several penmanship that barely look the same from the others; this is obvious in his letters to Sarah Wilson, his sister, and James Rhodes, his close friend. James Barnes, however, only wrote in the same handwriting, but he was ambidextrous, and his right and left handwriting were strikingly different, to which he used to his advantage. ]

[ The next letter is said to be Barnes’s last letter sent to Wilson before he finally settled down in his hometown. There were no records that show that Barnes really did settle down somewhere in Brooklyn, or in New York, for that matter, but what is sure is that he had met up with his sister, Rebecca Barnes, in Brooklyn during this time. The rumored letter written by Wilson to which Barnes is replying to was burnt along with the other donations to the Smithsonian Museum in the car accident of Wilson’s last descendants - luckily, no one got hurt.

This letter of Barnes’s was one of the few that were descriptive enough to set the scene, as seen with the reminiscing of the London Streets of where Barnes and Wilson lived in. Another detail in this letter was the infamous Scarlett Body Case, the gruesome murder of Elizabeth Scarlett, an African-American opera singer, to which Wilson was assigned to. The only ever existing information about this case is in Federal Custody among the F.B.I. who work hard on closing the case the famous detective failed to solve. The Scarlett Body Case is the last case Wilson was known to have before he disappeared. ]

Brooklyn, Dec 16, 1900

To Sam Wilson, down in Washington, D.C.

I have received your last letter with a warm heart, and all I could think about was how tragic your past years must've been. I wish I could've been right by your side, cheering you on as you trek every path that led you somewhere or to a dead end. Just as I read your hefty letter, I could feel myself submerge into the scene. I could feel the London streets and smell the thick air of smoke, feel the chilling winds of November frost as well as your lips tasting of nicotine. I breathe in the pages and could smell the strong scent of your cologne and faint blood. Have you been writing after every lead or case? I love that about you, but that doesn't mean you have to keep that awful habit. Please, at least wash your hands.

I see that you need some help on the Scarlett Body Case, yet, again, that road is past me. I don't feel the adrenaline of solving murders, jewelry thieving, or sudden disappearances, and I'm so sorry I can't give you what you want. As I sit here in my drawing room, a thought dwells upon the air, thick with dread: "Is this the only thing Sam wants from me?" and I always think, maybe it's right. Was that not the reason we left Versailles? Because we couldn't handle the loss? We've been battered and bruised, Sam, and I don't think I could take that grief to my deathbed anymore.

Time isn't kind for us, nor will it ever allow us to breathe freely. This haunts me to no end; I thought I could avoid it until your letter came to me. All the way from America, how are you doing there? You've already said so many times how your new profession is treating you, but have you felt that urgency? have you felt that adrenaline? have you tasted strawberries on another's lips yet? have you found something to exhaust your talents on? You're easy. You probably already have while you waited for this letter to come back to you.

And yes. I still do think about that night. The whipping London air we love haunts me every night in April and all I could think about is the way your hands wrap themselves around mine. I couldn’t dread you for long, and I haven’t felt so much longing until you. I know I said I don’t write much in letters, afraid that future historians might find out that I love you, adore you, cherish you, but I really don’t care anymore. I hope each day that in some other time out there, our letters will be displayed for the masses, so they, too, can know what true love is.

Yes, she is fine.

Yours, forever and always,

Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes

[ The one paged letter is said to be incomplete and may have more pages describing Barnes’s past life in England, but that is merely speculation. This letter is also under investigation by the F.B.I. to help understand better Howard Stark’s murder on December 16, 1900 to which the letter is dated; the investigators hoped that the letter would reveal any information on the aftermath of the case but the abrupt ending of the letter didn’t answer anything. ]

[ The famous line “Let your lover go, you said; I didn’t want to go” came from this letter of Barnes’s. This, in addition to the rest of the letters, were speculated to be love letters, but historians claim that there weren’t enough evidence to prove that this affair happened.

It’s in this letter where Barnes had helped Wilson with his cases after the aftermath of their separation, and it’s this letter where historians concluded that they still exchange letters. The case with the Sir Willobough character does not exist and still stump historians and biographers to this day. ]

Brooklyn, Jan 24, 1901

Dearest Sam Wilson

Have you tried asking Sir Willobough for the napkin? You’ve recalled that he wasn’t in both places, but his alibi may be strong, but so was he: the two streets are near his store, is it not? This is the only letter you may find help from me, for I still take my stand, I do not want to help. That life is past me. My friend, have you not realized? 1892 scarred me. It has scarred you. I don’t want to take part in any endeavors that may harm you. I love you too much to see you hurt like this.

The post office was quite clumsy this whole month, because I had only received your last two letters dated Dec 12, 1889 and Dec 30, 1889 just yesterday, and I don’t know what came over me, but I had sat myself down in the drawing room and had written all of this mess. Yes, I’ve written the first page last to apologize for the mess you shall see. I didn’t want to display myself so bare like that but it had to be done: I miss you badly, I must admit. I cannot dwell on the fact that I had to leave you. We had a steady life and income, the stars cannot touch us with our fame and wealth, but, as all legends do, we died, and hence, we are forgotten. I’ve been left wishing for you to live forever but I know technology isn’t as advanced as that. I just wish you to know, may it be my final breath: I always wonder if you had loved me too, because I really couldn’t know. If you did, we would’ve stayed, but, yet again my mind surprises me, love isn’t supposed to be entrapment, it’s supposed to be free. Let you[r] lover go, you said; I didn’t want to go, Sammy.

[ Page 2, 3, 4 missing ]

[ The fifth page is the only accompanying page of the complete letter that survived. It is where Barnes had described the night in which they had both met. The public, in addition to the historians, still debate over what the two men truly did in the library. ]

All I could think of was the day we met: I was in my uniform, had just told my superior officers to bugger off, had finally resigned from my post, and suddenly you appeared. I still remember the host of the party. His name was Howard Stark, an old and dying man, who gave out parties so extravagant, may there be stories about it. Every room was illuminated with golden lights that the stars were jealous of, and there was food from all over the world, something so delicious I had filled myself to the brim. Everyone who was everyone was there. My General’s aides-de-camps were there and I had told them to “fuck off” as I had put it gently, then right at the top of the grand staircase was an angel, yelling at the top of his lungs, ‘General Valhan, you are under arrest for arson and homicide!’ Everyone’s head turned to you and laughed, but the guards weren’t laughing, handcuffed my General and I laughed the loudest. It must’ve come as insulting and even after a decade I still apologize for it. I’m sorry. You should’ve seen his face! I have never seen such terror on a man’s face, and I’ve been to war.

I had caught you right at the moment, chased you up the stairs, and you saw me, ran away, and we played cat and mouse until we cornered each other in the library, locked the door, and had the best night of our lives. If anyone knew what we did there, we could’ve been killed for it, but, Bah! I love it. I love you. I still remember the coat you wore and how you threw it on the floor, how we wrestled each other on the floor before kissing so gently the angels cowered at the softness. I have never seen anyone so beautiful wearing only glasses, but then again, I hadn’t met you. And all was swell, all was sweet, we shared a cigar and I asked for your name. I still remember the fake names you threw at me: Jack Smith, Richard Wilkes, Patrick Stevens. Only when you gave me your business card was when you told me.

Another memorable moment was when I had chased your train and joined you to Versailles. Everyone was stunned. Everyone hated us. I loved that so much. I would ride that train again and again if you wanted to.

[ Another notable detail in the matter were the fake names Wilson gave Barnes, because those names were the names of his lesser known solved murder cases in which all victims died by strangulation and/or air-deprivation. There are a lot more Easter Eggs of Wilson’s many cases in the single page but the most talked about is the train express to Versailles, because it is here that Barnes and Wilson were being followed, ensuing the infamous manhunt for the two men by the unnamed Russian Spy Ring. ]

[ missing pages ]

#sbbingo1 #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #marvel #winterfalcon #france: works #france: the missing letters #france: writing

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martellthemandalor · 4 years

Text

Assistance - Chapter 3

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader (No Y/N, reader is nicknamed)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of drinking, violence

Rating: 15

Word Count: 2.3K

Summary: Mando is curious of his new boss partner, you tell some believable truths

A/N: A lot of dialogue in this one! As always I’m open for feedback, enjoy :)

Masterlist!

Walking with the Mandalorian was akin to walking alone. He never made a sound, just walked alongside you, following your lead. You’d set your internal tracker to sync with the tracking fob signal, and through you eyeglass you could see the path you needed to walk. At the same time as showing the way it was constantly scanning the terrain, thin blue lines constantly passed across in front of your eye, mapping the land and sky. You’d been walking for about two hours, trekking across endless fields of red and yellow grass and along beaten tracks of dusty brown.

Detsak was primarily a farming planet, the city was the only densely populated area of the planet, built for the purpose of trade only, the buildings designed for shops, cantinas and places for merchants to stay. The rest of the planet’s inhabitants were scattered, living in smaller colonies, usually made up of just families, generations farming the same acres of land all living together. There was something quite peaceful about that, you thought.

Of course everything was different know, what was once a tidy and prospering world had turned quiet and overgrown. Grass grew long, bushes that lined the fields were unruly and stretched their branches out into the open space, and wildflowers that would usually have been uprooted by farmers ready for planting crops spread out across the land dotting pockets of vibrant colour underfoot.

It would be calming, it should be calming, instead anxiety fuelled every step you took. Everyone knows that Detsak isn’t as pleasant as it seems and most people who come here now are either desperate to hide or desperate to die. It’s a kind of peace you suppose, a very morbid and permanent peace, but still peace. The sun glared down at you, bathing the land in orange light.

You could understand why it had been nicknamed ‘The Burning World’, for when the sun shone down and touched the mottled red and orange tones of grass from above, the fields appeared to be aflame. Stars was it hot too, sweat was beginning the build under your layers of armour, thank the Maker you had changed into the lightest material you owned before leaving.

“You walk like a man,” The Mandalorian’s static tone cut through your thoughts. You turned your head to him, eyebrow cocked.

“And?” It wasn’t as if you hadn’t heard that said before, your abrupt reply was more out of shock that the Tin Can had taken notice of something as trivial as your walk of all things.

“It’s unusual,” he stated, looking at you and then back to the path ahead. You should have left the conversation there, he’s hardly the talkative type, but habit prevented you from doing so.

“The guild has always been prejudiced, elitist bastards. Reputation pays higher than skill, showmanship rewarded over risk and most of all men get paid buckets more than female…coworkers,” You rolled your eyes at that, a reflex to merely saying those words, “I learnt early on that if I wanted to make any decent amount credits then I needed to reinvent myself, and quickly. So I did. I cut my hair off, changed my walk and adjusted my clothes for the illusion of a bigger frame. Not so much to look like a man, to do that I’d need to change my face, but enough to cause ambiguity over my gender. Then I took jobs, and as I did a consistently good job at them the guild chose to see me as a male member, because obviously to them a woman couldn’t do a job as good as that, and who was I to contradict them? I was making good payments, bought new armour and upgraded Astrid more and more. Life was good.” You could feel a tension in your jaw forming, just remembering what happen filled you an internal quiet rage.

“What happened?” The Mandalorian prompted.

“Something stupid,” you replied through gritted teeth, “There’s a cantina on Janothla, the planet where I’m based, and they serve the most incredible drinks, I mean Maker above they make your head spin and your heart soar and they taste so damn delicious,” You were beginning to salivate at the mere memory at them, a small smile playing across your face, glancing over at the Mandalorian you were met with the emotionless beskar steel and it brought you back to reality. Clearing your throat you continued your story.

“It was my favourite place to frequent after a hard quarry, an easy place to drink and get distracted. One night after a really horrible hunt I had gotten particularly drunk. All I did was smile, it was a fucking smile at a girl sat across the bar from me, but it was enough for her boyfriend to come storming up to me, he grabbed my shoulder and forced me to look at him, pressing me into the edge of the bar, telling me ‘no one makes eyes at my girl ‘cept me, and especially not some low life man who makes a living off bounty hunting’. I snapped, kicked him in the dick and slammed him into the bar, pinned him to it by the throat and shouted ‘First of all mate I’m no banthashit man and second, if you don’t want your ass in carbonite you better show some more respect to a fucking guild member,’” You rubbed the bridge of your nose as you recalled what you had said. God you were such a drunken idiot. You heard a low chuckle next to you.

“Sounds like that bastard got what he deserved though.” You flashed a smile at him and hummed in agreement.

“Anyway, I didn’t realise my mistake until the next day, you can’t go to a bar like that and shout that loudly without attracting the attention of some guild member. I went to the usual spot to meet Grijib, my guild contact, and instead I was met by 4 senior guild members, who told me I had been lying to them, and they can’t mistrust like this in the guild, reputation is everything etc. as if the whole guild wasn’t built and made up of liars and murderers.” You caught him nodding at that, a silent agreement.

“Anyway they erased my profile of all my good kills, and bumped me down to entry level quarries. That was 6 months ago and they’ve been paying me less and less since then.”

Saying that made you feel so defeated, all your hard work had been destroyed over a stupid mistake. Things really hadn’t been getting any better apart from the guild sending to you the far reaches of the galaxy on long missions, you enjoyed the journeys, those long hours spent under the streaking lights of hyperspace, and the thrill of the hunt never changed, no matter how long it took to complete.

“That’s why you’re out here then. The guild sent you to a planet they washed their hands of to punish you,” He stated with a tone of, was that sympathy?

“Yeh.”

What you didn’t say is that it wasn’t the fact the odds of you getting killed out here were a lot higher, it really didn’t factor in at all, it was the fact that this planet surrounded with painful memories you so wanted to forget. The colours of flame licked all around you, it put you on high alert. You knew that this planet looked on fire from above, but it hadn’t prepared you for how much it also looked aflame from the ground. You hated it.

The silence resumed. It didn’t seem so easy to walk in it after he had now spoken; it was like he had woken up your senses to be constantly aware of him again. Your eyes kept shifting from following the path ahead to observing the statue of beskar next to you, Maker he must be dying in that thing. The helmet must have some kind cooling system because if you were in it you were sure you would have passed out by now.

“Why are you a bounty hunter” His voice once again drew you from your head. It was less of a question and more a statement, a demand almost. Two hours of silence and now he’s overcome with an urge to get to know you? Okay then.

“I grew up in the forests of Tarligh, just me and my family on our farm. We grew and traded in horned melons. Money was always a little tight so my father taught me and my sister to hunt so that we would always have food for the table no matter how little credits we had. He told me I picked it up like a pelikki to water, which was ironic given how many pelikki’s we shot out of the water,” You chuckled to yourself at this, throwing him a look over your shoulder, “It always made him proud how fast I’d learned and how often it was mine and my sisters kills that kept the family fed. Anyway, when the rebels put out the call for recruits, I knew I had to join. Father didn’t want me to go, but my mother put me on the first freighter out to the alliance base. I trained up and got good. Ours was one of the last bases targeted by the empire, and when it fell I lost faith in the cause. That’s when I turned to bounty hunting, easy money with skills I already had.”

The story rolled off your tongue so easily. You could see it happening in front of your eyes as you told it, living it vicariously as you formed the story. It was believable enough, no weirder than any of the other young recruit stories you’ve heard in bars over the years.

You remembered one girl who told you she’d grown up Tatooine and joined the rebel alliance after she saw a Jedi do a mind trick on some storm troopers, you were pretty sure she was lying but she was cute and talking to you so you didn’t really care.

“That’s one hell of a story, how often does that work?” He sounded almost impressed under that helmet. You stopped walking and just stared at him, eyebrow raised. He stopped a fraction of a second after you did, pivoting slightly to face you.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“I mean, how often does that lie work.” He questioned. You imagined he was smirking under there, even if his steady and blunt tone gave nothing away.

“They work as often as I want them to, it isn’t just that one, that one I made up just now,” you remarked.

“That’s impressive,” The Mandalorian nodded at you, “How many of those do you have.” You really are confused now, why does he keep asking, or stating you should say, questions?

“A few, there’s the one about coming from a family of bounty hunters, the one about breaking away from a wealthy family to ‘find myself’ and my personal favourite, I joined a spice smuggling ring after I lost my parents, toughened up and learnt to fight and fly while running in those people, then got out to become a bounty hunter,” You smiled at him, then continued walking, resuming following the virtual path in front of you.

Those are all stories you had come up with on your long flights to and from various quarry’s, being alone gave you plenty of time to get creative with them, letting yourself fill their shoes and live their lives. You prided yourself on your imagination, being a good liar required it; in fact it was the only thing being a good liar required. You remember talking to an old bounty hunter friend of yours who told you “You’re an imaginative liar with a death wish, and I honestly think that makes you one of the most dangerous people in the galaxy.” To this day you think it’s one of the nicest compliments you’ve ever had.

You’d been so wrapped up in the conversation and your own thoughts you hadn’t even noticed the change of scenery. The open fields you’d been walking in had morphed into a forest, the glaring sun finally shielded away from you by a thick canopy of marmalade leaves.

The vibrant grass had shifted shades to a burnt umber and flowers that had littered the floor now confined themselves to pockets where the light consistently filtered through the foliage above. You took a deep breath, the air felt heavier under here, a nice weight that you welcomed. You relished in the smell of damp moss and wildflowers. If only the whole planet was made up of this, you thought, then maybe you wouldn’t hate it so much. You relaxed slightly. No immediate danger was showing up on your eyepiece and as far as you could tell you and Tin Can had been making good progress, so far so good then. You were however once again aware of him staring you. Rolling your eyes you glanced over at him.

“What?” You remarked, furrowing your brows.

“Is Shiryn your real name?” He inquired. There was standoffishness in his voice, as if he thought he shouldn’t ask you such a question. I mean who was he to question your name when you didn’t have any idea of his. You regarded him a second, wandering what he was thinking underneath that cold metal exterior, wandering what you should tell him. Names are a tricky business, they hold power in them, and it’s why you gave yours up after all.

“Yes,” You answered simply.

He nodded to himself and looked back ahead, as if something had just been confirmed to him. A pregnant pause fell between you, like he was waiting, daring himself to say something.

“You’re one hell of a liar,” He finally complimented. You smiled at that, a small genuine smile that hadn’t been seen by many. This was a new expression on you; it extended to your eyes, nose crinkling slightly. And this time you didn’t try to correct yourself back to your default guarded countenance, you let genuine expression beam out into the world for the first time in a long while.

“And you talk too much.”

Next Chapter

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sasarahsunshine · 3 years

Text

Soak Up The Sun - Fun Things/Facts

My favorite thing about writing my fic so far is exploring the relationships between my OC and the team. For example, I LOVE writing Emily and Derek the most, because they definitely have brother/sister vibes, and they remind me of my relationship with my own brother. I also want that for Kassidy: to have them there as her older “siblings” in a way. I especially love how close Kassidy and Emily are becoming.

(I’m going to be writing a lot about Kassidy’s relationships with the team so I’m gonna put a read more thing here now.)

Emily and Kassidy stay up too late talking on the phone, talking about boys (and girls) they used to like when they were younger, telling stories of embarrassing things they’ve done. They go on breakfast dates all the time, sometimes inviting the other BAU girls along, but sometimes it’s just the two of them. Emily convinces Kass to adopt a cat so her apartment won’t feel so lonely. The two of them like to go to pet stores and buy matching sweaters for their cats. They also constantly text each other dumb things that are on their minds. “I saw a fat squirrel today” “!!!no way!” Kassidy helps set up a private facebook for Emily so they can share pictures to each other (this is placed in 2010/2011 so they don’t get instagrams just yet). They love taking selfies with their cats, as well as taking pictures of the sunsets they see when on the jet. They start collecting postcards from the towns they visit and write them to each other, so when they get home they have fun mail to look at. Emily’s ringtone is the Kim Possible theme song.

And then there’s Rossi, who’s one of the team Dads(TM). I like to think Rossi sees Kassidy as the child he never had (SPOILER ALERT before Joy gets introduced to the story LMAO), so he’s extra sweet on her- and spoils her rotten. She never asks him for anything but eventually he starts buying stuff for her and paying for groceries to be delivered to her apartment and she’s like “???? what are you doing?” And he’s like “you’re my daughter now I am taking care of you.” LOL. Of course later on when Joy joins the BAU fam Rossi introduces her to Kassidy like “Joy this is my other daughter” and Joy is like “Cool I have a sister!” And Kass is like “I’m not actually his daughter tho-” “shush Kass you’re my kid, now smile for the camera.” She puts up with it and accidentally calls him “dad” once in front of everyone and it’s that whole scene from Brooklyn Nine-Nine and she’s like “no i didn’t why would I do that” lol. Rossi puts her in his phone as “Sunshine” since he’s the first one to ever call her that. She has him in as “Team Dad.” His ringtone is That’s Amore by Dean Martin. “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore~”

And then Hotch is like the other Dad(TM) who just wants to watch Kassidy and Spencer succeed at life and must protect them at all costs. Kassidy babysits for him a lot and freaking LOVES Jack. She becomes his unofficial “big sister” and lives for it. She loves taking Jack and Henry to the movies and park and is the best babysitter JJ and Hotch can find. Hotch has found her sleeping on his couch one to many times and just puts a blanket over her and lets her stay the night. He gets her coffee in the morning as a thank you for watching his son. At first she was embarrassed but eventually she gets a key to Hotch’s apartment, since he has a key to hers, and she just shows up sometimes just cause she can. She’s bad at buying groceries for herself but you bet your last dime she’s buying healthy foods for Hotch and Jack. She stocks their pantry FULL with foods, often showing Aunt Jessica where she hid the snacks so Jack (and Hotch) don’t try to get to them. She ends up with her own drawer in Hotch’s room that has some of her clothes and shower stuff in it cause of how often she’s over there. Her ringtone for Hotch is the COPS theme song LMAO.

Morgan is Kassidy’s certified Big Brother(TM) and he will hurt anyone who hurts his baby sister. He takes on the role so naturally around her and loves her for making him feel life can be normal sometimes. He has to tease her a lot about her crush on Reid, but that’s what big brothers do, ya know? The two of them like to go out for drinks and dancing when they get home from cases. Gotta remind themselves that life is beautiful and fun too. She buys Morgan a bunch of books and DVDs that she thinks he’ll like, and he always promises that he definitely read/watched them, but she knows he didn’t. Except when she buys him Tangled on DVD, telling him that it’s her FAVORITE Disney movie of ALL TIME. She knows he watched that one because she hears him humming some of the songs that got stuck in his head. They also hav the complete opposite taste in music, often fighting over what station to listen to when in the car. Usually Hotch or Emily has to tell them to knock it off or they’ll end up hitting each other (nicely). Kassidy HATES running, but she gets up at 6am on Saturdays to run with Morgan. She’s getting more stamina because of it, but she won’t admit it. Her ringtone for him is her favorite song, “Soak Up The Sun” by Sheryl Crow.

Penelope and Kassidy are besties for sure. They have girls night once a week when they can, binging on ice cream and watching lame rom-coms (Kass can’t handle secondhand embarrassment movies but she’ll watch them if Penny asks- hiding her face in her hands when those scenes are on). They like to go shopping together, hyping each other up in dressing rooms and picking out cute/colorful clothes. They always do brunch when they go shopping. They spend a LOT of money when they’re together, and have no filter whatsoever. Kassidy tends to get drunk by the end of the night if she was with Penny, which is always odd considering at the beginning of the day she swore she wouldn’t drink anything. She ends up taking a whole small chest for herself at Penny’s apartment, keeping clothes and toiletries in there. Penelope joked once that Kassidy had her stuff scattered all around the state of Virginia. She wasn’t wrong. Kassidy’s ringtone for her is “Walking on Sunshine” by Katrina & The Waves. They also text cute pictures of baby animals to each other a lot.

JJ and Kassidy love getting mani-pedi’s together. And when they’re together it’s either a whole spa day, or they’re at the firing range- there is no in between. No matter what they do, a lot of money will be missing from their accounts at the end of the day, much to Will (and Rossi’s) dismay. Kassidy see’s JJ as a sister too, but more like a twin/super close best friend type of sister, not an older sister like she see’s Emily. She’s totally a Jemily shipper (as a joke, but like <w<). They like to lay in the grass in JJ’s backyard and stare at the clouds, talking about all the places they’ll visit someday. One time they planned a whole trip to Greece, pulling out their phones and looking up ticket prices for the plane ride, hotel, sight-seeing and more. They haven’t fulfilled that trip yet, but they sometimes mention it to one another, reminding themselves that they will go. Someday. JJ’s ringtone is the opening Disney theme to every movie ever.

And then there’s Spencer <3 From the beginning she felt kind of drawn to him, his mannerisms, his love of knowledge- all of it. They like to get coffee together on their days off and trade books (Kassidy had to buy a bunch of new books recently so she had more to trade with him). She’s been to his apartment quite a few times, watching French movies and Earth Documentaries. They just like being in each others company (uwu). Kassidy probably texts Spencer the most, even though he detests texting- but that doesn’t stop him from replying. Her text tone for him is R2-D2 beeping (even though he says he’s not really a fan of Star Wars). During cases they’re almost always paired up together to work on geo-profiling and victimology, sitting close at the table with their legs just barely touching, their feet lightly pushing into each other every once in a while to remind the other that they’re still there. They’re totally NOT playing footsie (they totally are). Her ringtone for Spencer is the Star Trek opening theme. “Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship, Enterprise.”

Kassidy hasn’t met some of the other fun characters of the show yet, but eventually she’ll love all of them too <3 This fic takes place in season 6, after Hayley dies and right before Emily “dies,” ;) ANYWAYS I wanted to rant about this a little so um, thanks if you read it? LOL. Let me know what you guys think? <3

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abitnotgoodiebag · 4 years

Text

Blur

Title: Blur

Square Filled: I1 - Did they or didn’t they?

Warnings: drunkenness and terrible mental gymnastics

Word Count: 2,881

Summary: Sam thinks he needs an aspirin, better yet, he needs to get up outta here.

Link to AO3

Blur

Sam groans as he swims back into consciousness. Both his brain and his tongue are unpleasantly fuzzy and he wants nothing more than a cool washcloth, a cold glass of water and complete darkness and silence for the next decade. He is too old to be drinking himself into terrible hangovers. He knows the importance of staying hydrated and yet, here he is again, wishing for death to claim him. Sam can certainly say that he has never been the best at making good decisions.

As Sam debates the pros and cons of moving from his comfortable cocoon, he becomes aware of the sounds of soft snores uncomfortably close to him. He feels the body heat of someone else underneath the sheets of his (is it his?) bed. He also realizes very suddenly that he doesn’t have a single stitch of clothing on.

Shit.

Sam tries to think of who could possibly be behind him snuffling softly in slumber. The fact that he’s naked probably means that they are too and Sam could slap himself for the second time in as many minutes. The pounding in his head doesn’t help at all with his mood and Sam may have finally found the reason to quit drinking altogether. Waking up with strangers in bed is definitely something that is part of his twenties, not to be done when he’s staring at the front steps of forty.

Sam curses the fact that he is the first one to wake up and debates whether or not moving will wake his bedmate. His memories of the night before are patchy at best and the more he tries to piece together his time at the hotel, the more alarmed he becomes.

-------------------------------------

It was the one year anniversary of the battle against Thanos and Sam would rather have been anywhere else. The country was not as accepting of Sam as they had been of Steve. Sam didn’t want to think too closely about why exactly that was (because it was way too easy to get angry and what would that solve?), but there were days that he just wished his detractors would say what they really meant, and not use their carefully-coded acrimonious checklists on why Sam would never be Steven Grant Rogers. Every single decision Sam made was examined under a microscope in the media. /r/notmycap can’t go a week without some viral thread castigating him and slightly less often, Bucky (It’s always the ‘Winter Soldier’ or ‘The Asset’ though, they seem determined to remind the world that Bucky had a violent and unsavoury past).

If the bad press wasn’t enough, the list of full time Avengers was embarrassingly short. The Defenders did their own thing, as did Reed’s little group. It almost wasn’t worth anyone’s time trying to talk to Charles Xavier unless the subject was mutant rights (not that there was a problem with that, Sam definitely knew how stupid people could be around anything they perceived as 'different'). No one wanted to work with the reformed psychopathic (his words, Sam wasn’t convinced) mercenary, well, Peter was trying to tell everyone that he wasn’t so bad but Sam wasn’t touching that with a ten foot pole. Sam, Bucky, Rhodes, and Wanda were all that was left of the Avengers Initiative. Sure they had emergency and consulting members, but the fact was, Sam was barely captain of anyone.

Sam’s cheerless thoughts had him spending his time at the bar, after quickly making the initial rounds to greet everyone. He had to admit, Pepper knew how to throw a party. While there weren’t a lot of full-time Avengers, Thanos had united the entire world against him, and so the rented ballroom (in the most fashionable of hotels) was full-to-bursting. He scanned his eyes across the room taking in the small groups that didn’t quite mesh together. Thor and his new traveling companions, the Guardians of the Galaxy stood in a loose circle laughing entirely too loudly. Thor finally found a group who also lacked inside voices, Sam was happy for him. He looked better than he did that day. That too-long day that Sam went to battle in the fields Wakanda and ended the fight on the remains of their battered home in New York five years and mere seconds later.

Sam was glad he wasn’t around to see Thor's slow slide into misery. He had heard Steve (over the phone, Sam still can't quite look at his wrinkled face) tell him the stories of Thor’s grief at losing his father, brother, best friend, and planet within a week only to lose half of existence the very next day. Sam couldn’t imagine that pain.

Sam dealt with a different sort of grief. He had missed five years. Five years of his mother's life, five years of his niece’s life. Unfortunately so had her mother, his sister. Sam would never understand how his mother dealt with losing both of her children for five years, believing them gone for good. His house and belongings were all long gone, leaving him and Bucky to scramble to find an apartment together in the aftermath on the ‘Unsnappening’ (fucking twitter called it that and unfortunately it seemed to be stuck). He refused to put any more stress on his mom by moving back in when Kayla had to get used to her mother being back. Besides, it was just easier to live with Barnes. He didn’t have any memories of those five years, as far as he could tell no one did, but he couldn’t help but feel it in his bones that he had spent the time with Bucky.

Shaking his head to dispel that line of thought, Sam looked for his best friend. They had arrived together, as usual, but Bucky was quickly called over by Yo-Yo and Shaw, both of them eager to hang out with the soldier (he’d taken to being a SHIELD operative surprisingly well, all things considered, he even had work friends, Sam was proud of him).

Turning back to the bartender, Sam ordered an old fashioned. He had recently discovered that between the two of them somehow Sam was the hipster, even though Bucky had refused to give up his ridiculous (fucking beautiful, if Sam was being honest) man bun. Sam refused to listen to modern music (unless it was Beyonce, but really, it’s Beyonce it goes without saying) and read his paper at the table instead of staring at his phone all the time. Sam couldn’t help it, he was an old soul and he had endured Bucky’s teasing goodnaturedly. He absolutely drew the line at handlebar moustaches and penny-farthings though.

“Birdman number two!” Clint said in what he probably thought was an acceptable volume, clapping Sam on the back.

Sam startled and grinned as he saw his fellow bird-themed hero. “Barton! How is life treating you?”

“Can’t complain.” He said with a cheeky smile as he leaned toward Sam and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “If I do, Laura will give me the old boot. But I’d deserve it because she is the world’s greatest wife.”

“Damn right I am.” Said Laura as she appeared next to her husband.

Sam sipped his drink and watched them bicker gently. He loved that in a couple. Sure the schmoopy ones were cute and all, but life is always better with laughter and it was clear the Barton’s were full of laughter. They excused themselves after two rounds, Laura saying that she was tired and Sam was once again left to his thoughts.

Before he could sink into them too deeply, his eyes landed on Bucky standing next to a scowling Valkyrie and taking a swig out of Thor’s comically enormous flask (Just because he was doing better didn’t mean that he wasn’t still struggling). Sam smiled slowly at the blush that spread across Bucky’s face after his second long pull. Seems like Thor brought the good stuff.

Sam, armed with his bourbon and a liquid loss of inhibitions, (after the second old-fashioned, Sam wondered why he was even pretending to do anything other than get hammered and stopped bothering with anything more complicated) pushed away from the bar and headed in Bucky’s direction.

“Hey there my good people.” Sam smiled lightly as he reached Bucky, Thor, and Valkyrie. “Is this the 5000 proof section?”

Bucky rolled his eyes fondly after his last pull and passed the flask to Val, Thor letting out a brief sad noise in his throat, knowing he wasn’t going to get another swig any time soon. “Sure is, pigeon. This is the cool kids table and you can’t sit with us!”

“Ten points to Hufflepuff for correct use of Gretchen Wieners.” Sam said as Bucky looked confused. Belatedly, Sam realized that they hadn’t gotten to the Harry Potter series yet, Bucky picking both Star Wars and Star Trek (every single iteration, Bucky was obsessed) instead.

“Friend Falcon-Captain! It feels good to have a night of revelry with all of my shield-broth-” Thor stopped, his smile faltering slightly. “My shield-mates! Let us toast!”

Sam tossed back the last few drops of his bourbon while Thor waited for Valkyrie to pass him the flask. Bucky just snorted at Thor’s naivete and headed towards the bar to grab a less alien drink. He reappeared a minute later with three glasses and handed two to Sam and Thor respectively. They clinked their glasses and drained half of their short tumblers as Valkyrie finally drained the flask.

Bucky and Valkyrie let out loud (and surprisingly deep) twin belches sending Thor and Sam into a fit of giggles. Bucky joined in their laughter while Val just rolled her eyes and walked off in the direction of the bar, no doubt in search of a bottle or two to occupy her hands.

“What’s so funny?” Shaw asked, coming up behind Sam and throwing his arm around Sam’s shoulder and resting his chin on the other one. Yo-Yo circled around to bump robotic shoulders with Bucky causing Sam an immediate sharp flare of jealousy in his gut. Yo-Yo and Bucky shared too many similarities for Sam to not see her as a potential threat for Bucky’s time and affection.

“Bucky was just showing us how to play the tummy pipes.” Sam said, his words slightly slurred. His laughter stopped abruptly.

Sam’s smile fell away and Bucky noticed immediately. He glanced briefly to Shaw draped over Sam before he was somber as well, leaving Thor confused as to what exactly was happening.

“Oh-kaaaay.” Shaw drawled as he picked his head off of Sam’s shoulder, leaving his arm curled around Sam's neck. Sam was confused, Shaw was Bucky’s friend, they’d met maybe 4 times total, but if Sam were to guess, he’d bet he was less intimidating to use as a prop than the once-king of Asgard or a super soldier.

Yo-Yo raised an eyebrow. “It seems like we need to catch up with you guys. I could smell you from a foot away.”

Shaw hummed in agreement even though he was clearly ahead of Yo-Yo too if his inability to stand up straight was any indication. “Valkyrie went off for more, but I fear that she does not intend to share anything she finds.” Thor said, sounding vaguely disappointed. “So I must go and fetch us another round!” He looked very proud of himself for thinking of that as he turned and strode away.

“He is amazing.” Shaw sighed, “What’s his deal anyway? Why doesn’t he stay here full-time?”

Bucky glared at Shaw and Sam watched on in confusion. So now it’s not just Yo-Yo he has to worry about, now Bucky has a thing for Thor? Sam (not for the first time) thinks sadly, that he’s just a man. He’s no Inhuman, he has no enhancements, he’s from plain old Harlem, not some mythical planet, and he can’t call lightning with a thought. He’s just Sam and maybe all he would do is slow Bucky down. So zoned out, Sam jerked when Shaw and Bucky laughed, making the room wobble unpleasantly. His obvious distraction just caused them to laugh harder while Yo-Yo’s lips curled into a small smile.

Sam, who realized he was the butt of some joke, flipped them off, making Shaw start all over again, finally taking his arm off Sam’s shoulder to cradle his midsection as he bent forward, cackling madly.

Thor returned with a tray full of shot glasses. “Let us drink!”

“Damn big guy, you do not mess around, do you?” Shaw sounded awestruck as he straightened up and Sam was not at all bitter about everyone’s obsessions with Thor.

Yo-Yo and Bucky grabbed two apiece, taking them in rapid succession just a hint of redness on their cheeks indicating that they were drinking anything other than water.

Shaw grabbed two shots, holding one out to Sam smiling wide, “Us normies gotta stick to our singles. I can’t believe we’re more meat and no tech and still manage to be the lightweights.”

Sam laughed at Shaw’s dig, even as he seethed inside at Bucky leaning down to murmur something to Yo-Yo, eyes on Sam the whole time. Thor ignored all of them in favor of knocking two shots back one-handed, looking disappointed at their flavor.

Sam, now unable to remember exactly how much he had already had, felt that being upright was overrated and sat down, hard. Bucky glanced at him in concern, opening his mouth to ask if Sam was alright, but Sam glared back insolently and Bucky’s jaw snapped shut and he turned back to Yo-Yo who had been watching them in amusement.

Shaw grabbed two of the last four shots and again passed one down to Sam, shrugging. “To bad choices!”

Sam quickly echoed the toast and gulped the offered drink before clumsily getting off the floor, not finding it comfortable craning his neck up at everyone. Yo-Yo ambled away, tray in hand, clearly off to refill it. Sam saw Bucky moving out of his peripheral vision, but by the time he turned his head to get a proper look, Bucky was nowhere to be seen.

---------------------------------------

Sam squeezes his eyes shut as he realizes that the last person he can remember talking to was that irksome weirdo, Deke Shaw. Bucky had left him at the party alone with Shaw, clearly chasing after Yo-Yo. Sam is gripped by a combination of self-loathing and envy that almost chokes the air from him. He will never forgive himself if he has tumbled into bed with that asshole. This whole situation is entirely backwards. He’s pining after a grumpy, nerdy, absolutely gorgeous white boy from the past, not a strange, trouble-magnet from god-knows-when in the weird-ass future.

Sam knows who he wishes it was behind him. Every day he tries his hardest to be the best friend (who is he kidding, he’s doing a great boyfriend audition and has been for months) to Bucky. After living together for almost a year, they have a certain bond, but not quite the type Sam wants. He thinks Bucky wants it too, most of the time, but Sam knows better than to try and rush something before its’ time. Sam’s father always told him that anything worth having was worth waiting for if necessary and James Barnes was definitely worth having.

The person behind him snores loudly once, before Sam feels a hand reach around his middle, drawing him back into a firm torso. Sam freezes immediately, afraid to look down and finally solve the mystery. The body he's trapped against is mostly warm. Mostly, because Sam can definitely feel the not-quite-cool smoothness of what Sam will bet everything he owns is vibranium against his shoulder blade.

Sam relaxes and very slowly, smiles. All of the hatred at himself for possibly ending up with anyone else leaves him as almost quickly as it came. He can't wait for Bucky to tell him everything. Or Thor. Or even Yo-Yo, even though Sam will make Bucky do all the talking if that's the route they have to go. Sam is willing to bet he has some interesting message on his phone if he bothered to check it (If it was even still on at this point, who knows how late in the day it is). Knowing that he’s lying here with Bucky surrounding him makes the not remembering much easier. He has no regrets other than not committing every single detail of the previous night to memory to constantly replay over and over and over again.

Satisfied that it is indeed Bucky he’s woken up with (Sam breathes in deep and could slap himself, how did he not smell the traces of his own body wash? Bucky is always stealing it instead of using his boring bar of soap and smelling himself on Bucky drives Sam crazy) makes it easy to let his eyes fall shut and let the hangover pass. His best friend (and maybe, hopefully, probably, finally more) is curled around him keeping out the noise and light of the world and Sam needs to sleep this hangover off. He smiles to himself as he focuses on the soft snores and drifts into a peaceful sleep. Sam knows that everything is going to be just dandy.

#sambucky #sbbingo1 #winterfalcon #k's sambucky playlist #did they or didn't they?#I'm still unclear #fanfic #Sam is way too hard on himself #Bucky and sam are shits #Thor needs all the hugs #I'm only on season 1 of AOS so sorry about yo-yo and deke I have no real frame of reference yet

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spaceskam · 4 years

Text

thanks for being his romantic lead

not sure what this is. i started out with a plan and then it became crack and now here we are. you asked for it. kinda. HAPPY THANKSGIVING

ao3

"Don't be mad."

Michael eyed Liz as she blocked the entrance to Isobel's house. They were getting together for Thanksgiving and he had two grocery bags full of last-minute items that Isobel had frantically called him to pick up on the way. And yet Liz was blocking the way.

"I'm already mad," he said, though the suspicion never left his face. Her shoulders dropped.

"What, why? I didn't even tell you yet!"

"Because you didn't even tell me not to be mad whenever you ran your car into my truck, so whatever you did this time must be horrible," he pointed out. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Okay, but that was an accident."

"So whatever you did this time wasn't–hence the pre-requisite of anger."

Liz rolled her eyes but sighed. She dropped her arms. "Jayden is here."

Michael’s mood immediately soured at the name of the kid he hated. Or, tried to hate. The guy followed Michael like a puppy and did way too much to try to hang out with him so they could be friends. While that wouldn’t inherently be the worst thing ever if that’s all he was, it was still annoying. The icing on the cake, however, was that Jayden was Alex’s boyfriend. Emphasis on boy. The kid was barely 23 and acted like he was even younger. Isobel’s theory was it made Alex feel like he was young again. Michael just hated seeing Alex with anyone else.

“Why did you invite him?”

“I didn’t!” Liz exclaimed, “Alex asked if Jayden could come because, you know, his dad moved away and his mom is in jail and his grandparents are dead. None of us could say no.”

Michael frowned because of course the human golden retriever had a shitty family situation. Hell, that’s basically how they even met him. They’d found some guy on Reddit who knew too much about aliens, so they tracked him down. They were expecting someone ex-military and went prepared for that, not some kid who lived in a slightly sketchy one-bedroom apartment on the edge of Roswell. He had apparently made all of it up when he was bored and was super stoked to find out he was right, immediately asking Michael how his telekinesis worked despite the fact Alex and Max literally had guns on him. Michael remembered Alex had softened to his childlike wonder almost immediately.

“Fine,” Michael grumbled, pushing inside and trying to evade making eye contact with Jayden as he made his way to the kitchen. It didn’t really help seeing as Jayden all but jumped over the couch to get to him.

“Michael, hey! Look, I brought my Switch, we can play Mario Kart!” Jayden suggested, eyes wide and hopeful as he smiled at him. Michael just sighed.

Then issue with Jayden, aside from literally everything, was that Michael couldn’t figure out what Alex saw in him. The guy was as tall as Max, but was all bones and body hair. He had a scruffy blond beard and long, wavy blond hair to match. It was usually hidden beneath a beanie of some sort that was always pulled low, forcing you to look at his creepy crystal blue eyes. He was pale and wore baggy clothes that did nothing for him, always wearing one too many layers even when it was hot. He and Alex didn’t look like they fit and that was a fact that had nothing to do with Michael’s feelings. They were just opposites in the worst way.

“Yeah, maybe,” Michael said and Jayden just nodded excitedly. He stood in Michael’s way for a moment and it became clear he had no intention to actually leave his side.

“Jay, c’mere for a second,” Alex called which Michael both hated and was thankful for at the same time. Jayden, always the puppy, went to his master with ease.

Michael didn’t look their way as he beelined to the kitchen. Isobel was by the stove and gave him a grateful look when he dumped the bags onto the counter. Her grateful look pretty quickly switched to the irritating sister look when she caught his irritation.

“Oh, come on, you had to know he was coming,” she said, digging through the bags, “I really don’t get how you manage to dislike him. He’s cute and he adores you.”

“Yeah, he does, it’s really fucking annoying,” Michael grumbled. She snorted before her eyes went wide and she jutted out her bottom lip.

“But you’re, like, cooler than Minecraft,” she teased and Michael physically cringed.

“Pokémon,” Max corrected as he appeared from basically nowhere, “He said Michael was cooler than Pokémon.”

“Even better,” Isobel giggled. Michael just dropped his head in his hands.

“I don’t understand why he even likes me, I’m constantly a dick to him.”

“We like you and you’re dicks to us,” Max pointed out. Michael rolled his eyes so dramatically it almost hurt. It was worth it.

“He knows Alex and I have history, yet it doesn’t seem to bother him. Aren’t most people supposed to hate their significant other’s ex? Max, don’t you hate Kyle?” Michael pointed out. Max shrugged.

“I mean, yeah, but I hate him a lot less than I did before he played a massive part in, you know, reviving me,” Max said. Michael groaned.

“Fine, Valenti doesn’t count.”

“Look, Michael, he’s gonna be around, just try to not ruin my entire dinner,” Isobel scolded. Michael sighed and then nodded.

He could at least try.

Jayden did this thing that only Alex seemed to find charming. He would sit and ask about aliens until they were blue in the face. He was so curious and he would ask the same questions and he would bring up shit they hadn’t even thought about, much less had an answer for. He seemed more interested in aliens than the actual aliens did.

But, today, Michael was entertaining him because he wanted to support Alex. Even if it killed him. Which it just fucking might.

“I was thinking about that, actually, and your TK can lift more than you can physically, so what are your boundaries? My working theory is that if you can completely visualize the weight of something, you can move it, is that how it works?” Jayden asked, leaning into the dining table. It was the eighth question that night about Michael’s limitations. He took a slow breath.

“I don’t actually know. I just sort of what to move something and I do it, I’ve never really gone that far into the logistics,” Michael explained. Jayden nodded, taking a bite of the ham Isobel had spent like a whole two days preparing.

“Wow, this is really good, Isobel, thank you so much,” he said. She smiled. Alex looked at him with the world’s softest eyes, casually untucking his hair from the collar of his shirt. Michael was really pissed. “Ooh, Michael, there was this episode of Star Trek that I gotta show you, it was abo-”

“I don’t like Star Trek,” Michael cut him off, but forced a smile so he didn’t seem rude. He was working at it. Jayden’s face fell for a moment but quickly went back to the smile. However, it was hard not to notice how he leaned back in his chair and towards Alex.

“Oh, that’s fine,” Jayden said, “Hey, so, have you thought about how you can breathe oxygen? Do you think there’s something different on your planet’s atmosphere and the pod you were in just adapted you to be able to breathe oxygen, or do you think there’s another oxygen-filled planet out there?”

“Dude, I don’t fucking know,” Michael said, slightly exasperated. Jayden leaned into Alex and looked slightly wounded which only provoked Michael more. And he’d already started, so might as well. “You keep asking us these dumbass questions that you know we don’t know and you never leave us alone. Do you seriously not know how annoying you are? Literally, give the alien shit a break. And, no, I don’t want to play your stupid game with you. It’s like you don’t get that you’re fucking my ex. I don’t like you, I don’t want to like you, and I will never like you, yet you still come around. We don’t want you here, you aren’t apart of this. Can’t you just get that through your head?”

Michael knew he’d gone too far whenever he realized everyone at the table was staring at him. It was so silent he could hear a pin drop. Most of them just looked shocked he did that, Alex looked pissed, and Jayden just looked like the sad puppy he was.

“I’m sorry,” Jayden said softly, “I didn’t realize I wasn’t welcome.”

Michael’s shoulders dropped as he steadily looked between Alex and Jayden.

“Hey, no, you are welcome,” Liz and Alex both tried, but Jayden just pushed back his chair.

“No, it’s okay. I’m sorry for intruding. I guess I knew I wasn’t really like you guys. Didn’t really fit. That’s my bad,” he said, forcing one of those smiles that he had but this one didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you for dinner, Isobel. Best one I’ve ever had.”

Jayden quickly exited the room with his plate in hand and no one moved until they heard the sink turn on. He was washing his plate.

Alex was the first one to speak up, glaring at him in a way that had never been meant for Michael Guerin. It made him feel younger than Jayden.

“You don’t have to like him or talk to him, Guerin,” Alex said with his voice hushed, “But you have to respect my relationship. You have to respect that he is a fucking person with feelings and you can’t just embarrass him and outcast him like that. I thought you of all people would know that.”

Alex’s chair scraped back and he quickly went to go check on his boyfriend. Michael started sinking in his chair. He’d really gone too far.

“God, Michael,” Isobel commented, “You couldn’t have even waited until after dinner?”

“Hey, are you okay?”

Alex moved up behind Jayden, placing his hand gently on the small of his back. They were always careful when it came to touching each other. They both had rules of not doing it when the other one was unaware. That had led to people getting hit on accident.

“Am I that bad?” Jayden asked, head still bowed as he washed his plate well after it was clean. “Like, am I annoying?”

Alex didn’t know what to say. To him, Jayden wasn’t annoying. He could watch him get overly enthusiastic all day long, it didn’t matter the subject. But Alex was also aware not everyone was blinded by adoration.

“I think for Michael you’re a lot,” Alex said, resting his chin on Jayden’s shoulder, “You two are similar in ways you can’t see. You’re both the same level of chaos. Michael’s stays mainly on the inside, you let yours out. I think it’s too much for him.”

“He’s so cool, Alex,” Jayden groaned and Alex smiled, “I know you guys broke up for a reason, but I don’t know how you did it. I mean, he’s not my type, you are, but I, like, I want to be his best friend. He’s so much fun.”

“I know, love,” Alex said, pressing a careful kiss behind his ear. Jayden finally smiled and lifted his shoulder, finally looking to Alex. “But you gotta go slow. He’s prickly.”

Jayden grinned in that special way that was for Alex and no one else. It made him feel warm inside.

“You’re prickly,” Jayden said, “I love how prickly you are. I just wanna make a me-shaped whole in all the cactus spikes you got on you and stay there forever.”

Alex laughed helplessly and placed a hand on his scruffy cheek, pulling him down for a kiss that possibly didn’t last long enough.

“There’s already one there.”

“No offense, but I think you’re focused on you,” Isobel said.

Michael let out a little laugh and looked up to her, waiting for her to explain what was so bad about him actually giving a shit about himself for once.

“I know you love Alex, that’s obvious. But, as someone who loves him, shouldn’t your first desire be for him to be happy?”

“I do want him to be happy,” Michael retorted.

“Well, news flash, he is. Jayden may be a baby, but Alex lights up around him. Let him have some joy for once,” Isobel said. She was annoyingly wise lately. Michael blamed all that time she was spending with Maria.

“I’m trying! It’s not my fault the guy is so annoying!” Michael complained. Isobel gave him an annoyingly mothering look.

“You need to go apologize, though. Alex was right, you of all people should know what it’s like to be outcasted. Like it or not, Jayden is with Alex and he’s going to be around. Don’t make him feel unwelcomed when the rest of us like him,” she lectured. Michael frowned.

“I don’t want to apologize.”

Her eyes drifted upwards and she sighed.

“You need to or we’re all going to lose Alex,” she pointed out. It was a lot more of a threat than anything else and he heard it loud and clear.

“Ugh, fine.”

Michael very unhappily dragged his way outside to follow where Alex and Jayden had gone. Part of him hoped they’d already left so he didn’t have to deal with it. Sadly, they hadn’t.

“Wait,” Micahel called. Alex turned on that hardened face as he looked at him. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Alex pressed. Jayden cowered behind him even though he was a good six inches taller.

Michael licked his lips. He could do this.

“For being a massive dickhead,” Michael sighed, “I shouldn’t have made you feel like you weren’t welcome ‘cause you are. Yeah, you annoy me sometimes, but I also kinda love your boyfriend, so there’s a conflict of interest.”

Alex scoffed, shaking his head. Michael saw him open his mouth to argue, but Jayden spoke first.

“How is that a conflict of interest?” he asked. Both Alex and Michael didn’t really know what to say to that. “I mean, we both love Alex. That’s something in common.”

“I mean,” Michael started, a dry laugh coming from him in his shock, “I guess, but you get to actually love him and I get to be jealous.”

Jayden blinked dumbly. “Why can’t we both love him?”

“Whoa, hey, I did not agree to this,” Alex said quickly. Jayden laughed and shook his head.

“No, not like that. Just, like... What’s so wrong about loving people? Why should I not like you for loving someone I love? Like, good, give him more love. He deserves all the love. Why can’t we just shower Alex in love?”

Michael blinked at him. Alex blinked at him too, though it was for probably different reasons.

“So you just want me to... love you for loving Alex and continue to love Alex myself?” Micahel clarified. Jayden shrugged.

“Why not? I love Alex and I love you for loving Alex.”

Alex let out a shuddered breath and put his hand over his face.

“I’m too sober for this.”

“Okay,” Michael said, nodding slowly, “So you have no issues with me outwardly showering Alex in love and affection?”

“As long as Alex is okay with it, then I don’t even have a say,” Jayden said. Michael licked his lips and then looked to Alex with raised eyebrows.

Alex’s face was flushed and he couldn’t even hide the smile, though it was unclear if it was from discomfort or just being really overwhelmed. Then he just shrugged. Michael smirked. He figured he could have fun with this.

“Alright, well, you two have fun. I love you, Alex Manes,” Michael declared, reaching forward to grab his hand and then he pressed a kiss to it, “And happy Thanksgiving.”

Alex looked between Jayden and Michael who both seemed to be totally okay with everything that was happening. Alex squeezed Michael’s hand and leaned towards Jayden. This was going to be interesting.

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

#malex #ish #malex fic #michael guerin #michael guerin fic #alex manes #alex manes fic #roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico fic #rnm #rnm fic #my fic

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peter-x-harley-cat · 5 years

Text

15 Things Harley Learned About Peter Paker

YES, still thirty-five minutes left. (I really liked writing this and I want to expand on it, but let’s see what y’all think.)

WC: 1556

Summary: There’s a new kid in Rose Hill and Harley tries to learn all he can about him.

Prompt: Rose Hill, Tennessee

There was a new kid in Rose Hill.

Now, normally Harley didn’t get caught up in the normal gossip that everyone in this small town was so inclined to, but even he couldn’t help but be intrigued. Two weeks before the second semester started, he learned three things about the new kid.

1: He came from New York City.

2: He was living with his aunt.

3: He was Harley’s age.

No matter how much he dug around and bribed and persuaded, that’s all he could get about him.

A week before the semester started, though, he learned three more things.

4: He was really cute.

5: He was really smart.

6: He was (suspected to be) bisexual.

Number four was discovered when he walked into the garage Harley worked at and Harley lost all motor skills.

Number five was learned when Harley talked to while his boss was talking to his aunt.

Number five was discovered when Harley worked on the car and found the pride flag.

***

Harley had been fixing the car in record time when he heard a bang come from somewhere in the shop. He slid out from under the vehicle to see a boy with light brown hair and wide hazel eyes. He was nearly submerged in the hoodie he was wearing and he had an embarrassed look on his face. Harley gaped at him.

“Uh, sorry?”, the boy offered, showing a small smile. Harley had to physically shake himself to get a response.

“Um, no problem”, he assured, standing up.”What can I help you with?”

“Oh, my aunt is already talking to the mechanic, I was just looking around”, the boy said.

Harley raised an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t go walking around in here. Lots of dangerous equipment.”

The boy smirked at him. “Brake lathes and strut compressors are nothing I haven’t handled before. Talk to me when you’re handling Digoxin and Tabon in large quantities.”

“Ok, first of all, you can’t compare chemicals to machinery”, Harled argued. “Second of all, why would a high schooler be handling those chemicals?”

The boy just shrugged. “I had a pretty good internship back in New York.”

“Shame you had to leave it, then”, Harley said and immediately regretted it when the boy’s grin dipped into a frown. He was trying to find a way to fix it when his phone buzzed.

“I have to go”, the boy said, Harley probably imagining the disappointment in his voice. He looked up at Harley and smiled and Harley momentarily forgot everything. “See you around.”

Harley waved awkwardly as he left before his boss called him to bring the car into the shop. As he was pulling it in, he noticed a bisexual flag sticker on the dash. Huh.

***

The first day back to school, two more things were added to Harley’s ever-growing list of facts.

7: His name was Peter Parker.

8: He stands up for others.

Number seven occurred when he walked into Harley’s first period, effectively knocking Harley’s routine off-kilter.

Number eight happened at the end of the school day when he and a bunch of guys encountered them in the courtyard.

***

“Class, I’d like to introduce you to Peter Parker.”

Harley’s head shot up at that and, yep, it was the cute guy from a week ago. The boy--Peter--turned to face the class, what seemed to be his usual smile on his face. He looked all glowy and half the girls in the class were looking at him like they wanted to kiss him senseless. The idea made Harley feel weird.

Harley seemed to have missed the part where Peter was introducing himself because suddenly the brunette was sitting at the desk next to him and flashing him a smile. Harley had a hard time focusing on History after that.

He found that almost all his classes were with Peter, seeing as they were both already at least college level. And the boy sat next to Harley in every single one, not that Harley minded. He was walking out of the school when Peter ran up to him.

“So, you got anything planned for the robotics project?”, he asked. Harley smiled at him from the side of his eye and was about to answer when he was stopped in his tracks. Literally.

He looked up from the hand on his chest to see the captain of the baseball team and a few of his yes-men standing in front of him.

“Careful around Keener, Parker”, the captain said, still looking at Harley. “His queerness might rub off on you.”

Harley rolled his eyes and was about to make a sarcastic comment that would undoubtedly get a fist swung in his direction, but Peter spoke up first.

“Thanks, but I’m afraid your warning came too late”, He said, stepping slightly in front of Harley and giving the group a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I started identifying as bisexual in seventh grade.”

The boys looked disgusted and backed up a bit. They looked like they were about to insult them, so Harley cut them off.

“Look, I’m sure whatever homophobic thing you’re going to say is very enlightening and original, but we have a robotics project to ace”, with that, he grabbed Peter’s hand and started pulling him toward his house.

***

The next five things Harley learned about Peter came over the weeks that they spent together.

9: He had two best friends named Ned and MJ.

10: He preferred Star Wars to Star Trek.

11: Before moving to Rose Hill, he had never left Brooklyn.

12: He planned on going to NYU for college.

In turn, Harley told Peter a lot about himself. He told him about his sister Diana, how he had started working at the machine shop, how he had been outed in sixth grade, and how he planned on going to MIT. They spent most of their waking hours together, so many that people started to think they were dating.

“Why don’t we?”, Peter had muttered when Harley had commented on it. Harley had gaped at him.

“What?”

Peter had flushed deeply and ran off, saying something about talking to a teacher. Harley had felt slightly disappointed as he ran away, but he forgot about the interaction when he had to take a test next period. They didn’t talk about it.

They talked about everything else, though, which led to his thirteenth thing on his list:

13: Peter’s hands were warm.

***

The two boys had been sitting on the roof of Harley’s shed. They had been watching the stars since Peter had off-handily commented that he had never been stargazing without immense amounts of light pollution. Harley had been determined to rectify that. They had been laying there in silence for a while when Peter spoke up.

“What happened to your dad?”

Harley sucked in a breath before sighing it all out. “He left. When I was seven.”

“I’m sorry”, he said. Harley listened for the undertone of pity, but it never came.

“What happened to your parents?”, Harley eventually got up the courage to ask.

Peter was quiet for a while and Harley was afraid he had overstepped when he said, “They died. Car accident, about a year ago.”

“I’m sorry”, Harley repeated softly. Peter didn’t say anything, but he felt a hand touch his. Harley grabbed it and Peter slowly intertwined their fingers.

They laid there until the sun started to rise, hands intertwined and hearts beating in sync.

***

It was almost the end of the school year by the time Harley learned his two final things. They had spent five months together, even spending spring break working in Harley’s shed. They had just gotten done with state testing and they were at Peter’s Aunt’s house. When they got to his room, Peter promptly fell into his bed and screamed into the pillow. Harley could understand.

Harley threw his bag down and jumped into the bed beside him, half landing on the other boy.

“Wanna watch Star Wars?”, Harley asked, staring up at the ceiling. It was almost summer and the heat would make it hard to spend hours in his shed or the repair shop. He was drinking in all the air-conditioned air he could.

Peter shook his head before turning toward Harley. Harley let his head fall to the side and the two just watched each other.

“Hey, Harley?”, Peter whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Will you kiss me?”

Harley didn’t know if it was the heat shutting down his cognitive function, the state testing turning his brain to mush or the five months they had been dancing around each other, but he wasn’t surprised by the question. Instead of answering, though, he just leaned in and pressed his lips to Peter’s.

Harley had imagined kissing Peter countless of times, but this was nothing like that. He’d thought of fireworks and shooting stars, but that wasn’t them. It was the feeling you got when a broken car rumbled back to life, of talking all through the night, of watching the sunrise because they were both working instead of sleeping. It was two broken pieces coming together to form a complete whole.

The two things Harley learned about Peter that day was as follows:

14: He was Harley’s soulmate.

15: He was a really good kisser

#parkner week 2019 #parkner #spiderlad

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