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liebgotts-lovergirl · 1 year

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A December to Remember ~ Joelix Hallmark AU Part 2

(Pt. 1)

Summary: Alix is forced to confront her trust issues as she struggles to reconcile the past with the present.

A/N: The second installment of the Hallmark AU + Past Life AU, just in time for Christmas, thank God. 🤭

Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere @mccall-muffin @lieutenant-speirs @brassknucklespeirs @parajumpboots @emmythespacecowgirl @holdingforgeneralhugs @bellewintersroe @ax-elcfucker-blog @vibing-away @hxad-ovxr-hxart @aerokriegs

"Sorry for being a pain in the ass,” Alix called over the din of the airport parking lot’s crowds as she hauled her duffle bag over her shoulder. “I know it's a real hike."

"'S no trouble at all,” the cabbie replied easily as Alix plopped the bag into the trunk. “I was headin’ that direction anyway.”

Seeing her beginning attempts at wrestling the largest suitcase into the back, he quickly tucked his cigarette pack into his back pocket before jogging over to help.

“Here, lemme get that for ya–” he offered but Alix shook her head stubbornly, readjusting her grip and giving it another heave.

“No, I… Ow, shit!– I got it…” she managed between a panoply of grunts and swears.

Straining all her muscles, she had just barely gotten it off the ground and as she dropped it just inches from the open trunk, she could hear the cabbie fighting to contain his laughter.

The disgruntled actress shot a glare in his direction but he didn’t flinch, leaning against the car’s open door and tugging a loose cigarette out from behind his ear.

“Hey She-Hulk,” he remarked bemusedly as he lit it, the gold flecks in his eyes dancing like sparks from the flame. “Don’t give yourself a hernia, okay?”

“Oh fuck off,” Alix panted with a joking roll of her dark eyes, trying to “lift with her knees” like Benji, her brother’s boyfriend, had tried to teach her when she had helped him move in.

But lifting was not kind to her formerly-torn ACL and she felt one knee buckle, dropping the suitcase onto the ground again with a muttered curse of frustration.

One of the drivers behind them honked and she could hear the man yelling, "Hey Liebgott, get your slut outta the road, will you?! I got a fare!"

Alix whirled around with a frigid glare, shouting at the guy to go around them if he was so impatient but to her surprise, the look on her cabbie– Liebgott–'s face had changed.

No longer a good-natured smirk, Alix could see a vein jumping in his jaw now and his caramel-brown eyes were narrowed.

Nostrils flaring, he threw his cigarette down and stormed off to the taxi behind them, eyes narrowed as intensely as a hunting dog who'd sighted its prey.

Alix didn't know how but she'd seen that look from him before in a dream…or a nightmare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pow!

"Wanna live? Keep dancing, asshole!"

Pow!

"Dammit Joey, that's enough!"

Alix recognized her own voice, frantic and shrill as a hawk's cry, and she saw her own dirt-stained hand on Joe's shoulder, tugging him around to face her.

"You've made your point, okay? Leave them alone."

His warm brown eyes were cold as steel and flashing murderously. He'd lowered his rifle but she could still see the fierce determination in his eyes burning like a wildfire.

He was a force of nature.

"Not now, Ziskeit." His voice had risen to a warning tone and Alix blinked in surprise at the sharp edge.

Somehow she knew he'd never used it with her before.

"Do you know who they are?" he demanded, clearly noticing her wounded expression. "Do you know what they've done?!"

"I lived it, Joey, you know I do!"

"Then don't ask me to lay off 'em, okay, not after that!"

"I'm not!" Alix could feel her own temper flaring. "Shoot them for all I care! I'm just asking you not to fucking torture them! Is that so hard for you?!"

Despite the blood, sweat, and dirt that painted Joe's face, Alix swore she could see a flash of pain in his expression but as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared behind his rage again.

"You know what, Zees," he snapped curtly, his raspy voice clipped as he reloaded his rifle. "Maybe it is."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alix was brought back by the sound of nearby voices arguing and she could see her cabbie– Joe– arguing with the driver who had shouted at her.

"I said don't call her that, you piece of shit."

"Tell her to hurry the fuck up then, I wanna use your spot!"

"Langley, you got half a fuckin' block to pick up your fare but you wanna ride my ass waiting for my spot an' complain about it?! I don't fuckin' think so."

"Look, just get your bitch outta the way and it won't be a problem, okay Joe?"

"We already got a problem," Liebgott snarled, drawing himself up to his full height so he could get into the bigger man's face. "'Cause I told you not to call her that."

"Joey, can you c'mere?" Alix called hurriedly and Joe's head instantly whipped around, his expression softening the second their eyes met like he couldn't believe what he'd just heard.

Suddenly, the argument didn't seem to matter. Nothing else seemed to matter.

Alix blinked hard, past and present suddenly blurring before her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gray haze of cigarette smoke in the brisk night air. Warm brown eyes wide with surprise. A kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering jubilantly in her stomach, the muffled crooning of jazz music underscoring conversation.

Joe was dressed up, in…was that a vintage service uniform?

"Joey, huh?"

The corner of his lip quirked up into a lopsided grin.

"Nobody's ever called me that before."

Alix had opened her mouth to apologize, to explain it had just slipped out, but he silenced her easily with a shake of the head.

"Don’t,” he chided gently. “I like it. But-"

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Think I’d like anything that comes outta that pretty mouth of yours.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alix snapped back to reality with the sound of someone clearing his throat.

The other driver, Langley, had moved down several spaces and Joe was standing before her with a wry grin.

She had expected him to shove her into the car, muttering about her “being difficult” like her ex would have, but he didn’t.

When she looked up, Joe’s eyes seemed to sparkle and he gestured towards the open car door.

“You comin’, sweets, or do I gotta pick you up an' put you in myself?”

»——————⋆◦★◦⋆——————«

"You should feel proud, y'know," he remarked moments later, shifting out of park and peeling out of the airport’s buzzing traffic. "Usually nobody gets to sit shotgun."

"So I'm special, huh?" Alix teased over the Christmas music blaring from the radio with a quirk of her manicured eyebrow.

Joe chuckled, a warm sound that quickened the young woman's heartbeat for reasons unknown.

"Somethin' like that."

As her dark eyes swept across the car, Alix noticed a scarlet ribbon tied around the gear shift and she smiled.

“That’s for good luck, right?” she asked, nodding to it. “I always thought that was just an Italian thing.”

Joe grinned and shook his head fondly.

“Nah, lotsa cultures do it. My Ma’s kinda superstitious so when I started drivin’, she put it there for me and it’s never left.”

Noting a cracked iPhone perched by the meter, connected to the taxi by a long, thin white cable, the screen showing a glowing 80%, Alix hemmed and hawed for a bit before finally giving in.

“Hey Joey, um, I’m sorry but when you’re done, can I borrow your charger? My phone’s dead and-”

“Sure thing!"

It was such a small gesture but Joe's willingness to immediately unplug his so she could plug hers raised Alix’s eyebrows.

Clayton would’ve never done something as nice as that without complaining.

How did this man she’d just met already treat her better than someone she’d known for years?

It just didn’t make sense.

Joe noticed her watching him and turned the radio down, cocking his head with concern.

“What’s on your mind, sweets?”

Alix bit her lip, debating with herself.

Should she tell him?

“Nothing,” she lied defensively. “Just zoning a bit.”

Joe eyed her skeptically from his periphery for a moment as though he wanted to say something and Alix fidgeted under his gaze before angling her knees to the door, avoiding the concern in his deep brown puppy-eyes and leaving the pair in an uncomfortable silence underscored only by the forcedly upbeat Christmas music emanating from the cab’s radio.

»——————⋆◦★◦⋆——————«

About an hour later, Joe finally found his voice.

“So where ya from, sweets?”

It was a simple question, unintrusive and innocuous, and Alix was about to reply when she was interrupted by the familiar chime of her phone.

She checked it quickly before flipping it over with a small huff, simply resolving to ignore the message even as three more came in.

Ding!

"Someone's popular,” Joe joked.

"Hardly," Alix scoffed as she buried her phone deep in the pocket of her coat. "It's just my agent asking about the audition.”

"Audition, huh?" Joe eyed her wryly from his periphery. "You some kinda movie star or somethin'?"

"I wish," Alix laughed. "I’m just a girl from Philly who fucking blew it.”

“Doubt it.”

The taxi driver shook his head as highway traffic rumbled past and flashed her an encouraging smile.

"You’re prob’ly better than you think.”

Her heart fluttered slightly and Alix found herself staring again.

There was something in his smile … He seemed so familiar, like a word on the tip of her tongue, but she just couldn’t place him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The brassy sounds of jazz music and people laughing, clinking glasses and conversation but the idle chatter around them seemed far away now and for a second, it was just the two of them gazing into each other’s eyes from across the table, each searching for the right thing to say to the other.

He spoke first, leaning forward so she could hear him better over the noise.

“Doll, I’m gonna need you to quit that,” he said, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

Alix cocked her head inquisitively.

“Quit what?”

Joe scratched the back of his neck with a sheepish laugh.

“Smilin’ at me like that. I can’t think straight when you do and I need to get my shit together before I make a damn fool outta myself.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alix shook herself out of her reverie.

“Sorry, did you say something?”

“Jesus, am I that boring?” he joked with a good-natured grin that let her know he was just kidding. “I asked what the audition was for.”

Alix knew he was just kidding but she still felt bad. It wasn't Joe's fault she was having…

What were they? Flashbacks? Daydreams? Hallucinations?

Alix blinked hard, forcing herself to focus on the present.

"Sorry," she blurted out again and Joe snuck a look at her as they came to a red light.

His devil-may-care smirk was gone now and his dark brows knit with concern.

"You don't gotta apologize for everythin', y'know." His voice, slightly raspy but gentle as a murmur.

"You been apologizing since you got here."

"Sor-" Alix began but stopped herself, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

He was right.

Since Clayton, it seemed like guilt and apologies were just a part of her now, as natural as breathing.

"It’s called ‘Pirate Queen’," she answered, grateful to change the subject. "It's about Grace O'Malley."

Joe cocked his head.

“Who?”

“The Irish pirate, known as the Dark Lady of Doona.”

“Sounds pretty badass,” Joe grinned. “D’you get a sword too?”

“I don’t get anything because I fucked up the audition,” Alix sighed. “I was called in last minute for a cold read. It was in the morning too so my voice was all scratchy and I probably looked like shit.”

“You sure 'bout that? 'Cause it sounds to me like you don’t give yourself enough credit. And I bet you looked fuckin’ gorgeous, to top it all off.”

»——————⋆◦★◦⋆——————«

“Sorry again for all this,” Alix grimaced, glancing guiltily at the clock. “Hopefully you’ll get home in time for whatever Christmas Eve plans you have later tonight.”

“Well, considering I’m Jewish, I ain’t got much going on for Christmas,” Joe chuckled, fishing the Magen David out from inside his collar so Alix could see it.

“The music’s for you. But I do gotta get home to light the shamash with my folks tonight.”

“Don’t feel bad though,” he added quickly as if reading Alix’s mind.

“I should be able to make it before Shabbat. Only about an hour and a half difference from McClellan Park to Oakland and if I do get held up, my folks’ll understand. It'd suck to miss the first night but it ain't the end of the world.”

»——————⋆◦★◦⋆——————«

“What about you, gorgeous?” Joe asked as they slowed for a stoplight. “What d’you got planned for the holiday?”

Alix grimaced.

“So I was supposed to fly home but I’m not too torn up about it, to be honest. The flight cancellation’s more of an inconvenience than anything else because I didn’t really wanna go anyway.”

The red glow of the traffic light cast a shadow across his handsome face as he looked at her, brows knit.

“Why’s that?” he inquired, seemingly confused by why someone wouldn’t want to go home for the holidays. “You don’t have family?”

“Oh I have them,” Alix muttered, a bitter edge sharpening her rising voice. “I just don't want them. My parents are fucking intolerable. My brother and his boyfriend were the only ones who made it bearable and they’re not coming this year. Gio said it’s because of the snow but it’s really because he can’t stand them either.”

She huffed, glaring at the dashboard as though trying to ignite it from her stare alone.

“They’re fucking ridiculous,” she spat, gesturing wildly as she spoke.

“My parents make Christmas miserable. It’s all about fucking appearances: Everything has to be perfect, every gift expensive, and everything is a fucking photo op so they can show their equally snobby friends and brag about their perfect fucking family.”

Suddenly realizing she’d gone off on a rant, her chest rose and fell with a heavy, exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry, I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

“Hey, what’d I say about apologies?” he asked softly, giving her a wry look out of the corner of his eye and Alix exhaled through her nose sharply.

“I know, I know, I apologize too much.”

“You’re damn right,” Joe responded. “And you don’t need to, ‘specially not about talking to me.”

He gave a small, sheepish laugh and scratched the back of his head self-consciously.

“Call me crazy but I could listen to you talk all day.”

“Oh you’re crazy alright,” Alix teased, finally cracking a smile, even if it was just at a stupid pickup line.

The cabbie shot her a playful wink and Alix felt her stomach do a little somersault of glee despite her doubts.

“I’ll be anything you want me to be, gorgeous, you just say the word.”

Alix rolled her dark eyes in mock-irritation, trying desperately to ignore the delighted racing of her heartbeat at his playful flirtations.

“Just keep your eyes on the road, Liebgott,” she replied in a not-at-all convincing tone. “That’s what I want.”

#Part 2 babey!!#have some minor hurt/comfort #they're warming up to each other & I kinda love it #Sorry for the wait y'all I've been in another state for the holidays!#But more work is coming your way shortly!!#Band of Brothers fandom #Band of Brothers #Hallmark AU #BoB #Joe Liebgott #Joe Liebgott x OC #Joe Liebgott x reader #Band of Brothers fic #Band of Brothers fanfiction #Band of Brothers fanfic #HBO War #hbo band of brothers

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tiny-maus-boots · 5 years

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Wild West AU pt 19

A/N: thanks for all the feedback and encouragement y’all. it’s very much appreciated.

A/N 2: Thank you B for always doing the thing and the beta. ILYAN @chloes-yellow-cup

Beca

There was an endless moment when she was suspended midair that she regretted her choice to aim for the window. The thought that the glass might not give under her weight was a huge factor in that regret. Of course it was too late to do anything about it at that point so she had tucked herself as tight as she could, using her arms to protect her face and prayed she could cannon ball right through. For one frightening heartbeat her body had met resistance and she was sure Chloe would kill her for dying so stupidly. But her momentum and weight broke the glass and shards of it rained down on her as she landed hard on the floor and rolled to a painful stop flat on her back in the center of a great room.

“Shitshitshitshit… I can’t believe that worked.”

Beca sat up and winced as she pulled a chunk of glass out of her forearm. It was definitely going to need stitches, she knew that much. She muttered a few choice curses and tore a strip of cloth off the bottom of a curtain to tie around her arm tightly. She gave her fist a few squeezes to make sure she still had grip strength but it was all she had time for. Whoever was downstairs had heard her crash and was coming to investigate. She counted out the footsteps noting that there was just one man which meant there were likely more downstairs. The floor creaked ominously just outside the door and she moved low and to the right.

The small woman slipped two perfectly weighted throwing knives out of her chest brace and hunkered down low behind the pot-bellied stove for cover. The door swung open hard and fast and a man pushed into the room with both his guns drawn, firing wildly into the living space visible from his spot. More glass shattered and splinters of wood blew off the walls and furniture. She waited for his body to make the slow arc away before she rose up and let the blades fly.

They sunk home in his body and he dropped to the ground in a slow collapse, eyes still blinking even though he was as good as dead already. Beca scooted over to him, mindful of the guns in his hands and pulled her knives free. There was a scuffle of sound from the bottom of the stairs and Beca eased herself across the room to the door to cautiously scan the hall.

“Junior? What’s happening? Junior!”

Beca backed away from the door when she saw movement at the bottom of the stairs. The warped floorboard under her foot shifted and groaned and whoever was at the bottom stopped all movement. She glanced at Junior dead on the ground and considered dumping him down the stairs as a distraction but they’d hear the effort and that took away any element of surprise.

“I really should have planned this better…” She muttered to herself as she looked around, eyes landing on the kerosene lamp hanging from a nail on the wall. A hint of a smile quirked her lips and Beca snagged it off the wall.

“Whoever it is up there, you came here to die. I’ll kill you myself you whore.”

The woman snorted softly as she loosened the base from the wick plate just enough to stay together. The wood shifted loudly under a man’s weight and she heard the soft inhale as he froze in the vain hope that she didn’t hear him. Beca shook her head raised the jaw harp to her lips as she gauged him to be about halfway up the stairs. She waited until after she had lit the lamp to strum her harp with a single twang.

Sheriff Cox’s voice rang out with a loud rough bark of an order but Beca had already stepped into the hall, lamp raised to pitch it into the man on the stairs chest.

“Pete no! Get back, its Mitch…”

It had done what she hoped and brought out all the chickens from the henhouse. Sheriff Cox and another man had given up their hiding spots in warning, too late for poor old Pete, as the lamp erupted on impact in a spray of hot oil and licking flames that crawled over his body. Beca took two running steps down the stairs and vaulted over the railing as the men struggled to put out the flames engulfing their friend.

His screams were terrible and deafening and she knew later when she was tucked into Chloe’s arms late at night that she’d still hear the echoes of his pain. Pain she had caused, Beca sighed softly and shook her head as she crouched behind a shelf.

“Damn you Mitchell! Damn you to hell! Aw goddamnit Pete, oh goddamnit.” The sounds of scuffling and frantic stomping let her know exactly where everyone was. Pete was at the foot of the stairs where he had tumbled to. The other man was closer and a few steps to the left trying to put out the last of the flames from the lamp. Sheriff Cox was pacing back and forth by Pete. She couldn’t tell yet if he was trying to see where she’d gotten to or if he was just that damn distressed. She voted for the former and it was confirmed when he spoke again. “You ruined him good for your little distraction. He’ll lose a whole season of crops while he heals up.”

Beca wedged herself into a corner where she could press her back against the shelf and brace her feet against the wall. “He’s alive ain’t he?” He might need help but it was better than being dead though she probably wouldn’t say she had been merciful. He was in for some hard days ahead. A shot rang out with a crack and a mason jar of peaches broke two shelves up. “He’ll get back to whatever the hell it is you all do for fun here. I wanna say cow fucking?”

He growled and fired off another couple of rounds in her general direction. One winged by her ear just a hair too close for comfort but it meant he had finally moved exactly where Beca had wanted him. “You couldn’t just give up the gold, you had to burn through this town on your way to hell. All this blood is on your hands, Mitchell.”

She chanced a glance between the shelves, watching as he moved another step closer to peer around some barrels. “Didn’t have to be this way Cox. All this…this is on you. We only came for a drink while our horses were being shoed. You got greedy.”

Cox pivoted toward the sound of her voice and fired again until his gun clicked empty. Beca groaned and pushed off with her legs as hard as she could. The tall shelving creaked in protest then started an almost comically slow descent. The sheriff had been distracted trying to reload when it toppled, he gave a shout but the heavy wooden frame crunched down on his head, trapping him in an avalanche of supplies and dry goods.

That just left one man between her and Benji. Beca scrambled away from the fallen shelves to find cover behind the long countertop. Bullets whizzed by and she cursed herself for bringing knives to a gun fight. Somewhere behind her she could hear the Sheriff groaning and shifting, trying to free himself. It had bettered her odds but it wouldn’t hold him for long. In the seconds between shots she raised up to survey the area then dropped down again. It was going to be an awkward throw but she knew where he was now. On the empty click of the gun she rose and launched her blades. They went wide of the mark who had been smart enough to move.

She dropped to a knee and pulled her last two blades out of her chest rig. If she missed again she’d be out of weapons and outnumbered. “Hey law dog…I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I said I was giving up?”

“Don’t suppose I would. Harry told me you’re sneaky as the devil in a dress.”

Another shot and she flinched at the nearness of it. “Harry? Wait…his name is Harry Cox? Well that is quite the moniker.” She moved stealthily to the other end of the counter and peeked around the edge. “What about you? What’s your name?”

“Don’t see how it matters much.”

He moved a few steps closer to the stairs and she popped up to throw her knives. This time one sunk home in his shoulder, the other skimming harmlessly past to bury itself in the wall behind him. Beca closed the distance between them in an easy lope that had her skirting tables and neatly climbing over the shambles of shelves. The man pulled her knife out of his shoulder and started to raise his gun but she was already there to knock his hand wide and deliver a devastating upper cut. He dropped like a sack and she grunted in satisfaction.

“Thank you Deputy No Name.” Beca took the gun from his limp hand and checked the cylinder. There was one shot left and she knew just where it belonged. The small brunette picked her way over to Sheriff Cox’s side, choosing to sit on the wooden frame pinning him to the ground. She raised the gun to him as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Well…this was one hell of a ride, Harry.”

“They’ll come for it and you, you know that right? Ain’t no place y’all can run that can’t be found.”

He struggled and pushed, trying to squeeze himself out from under the shelf but it was all for show because they both knew he wasn’t going to get out of this one. Beca stood and pointed the gun at him, her head tipped to the side as she considered.

“Reckon you’re right about that. But the people coming for me? They won’t be you.” She squeezed the trigger and fired a shot into his head. Beca tossed the gun aside and climbed over the wreckage to get to the storeroom. It had been boarded shut and she wondered how long Benji had been trapped in it. “Benj…ya in there?”

There was a quiet shuffle of noise then a surprisingly cheerful if tired chuckle. “Knew you’d come for me.”

Beca hefted a pry bar and ripped the boards from door frame. It took a good few wrenches before the door gave and swung open to reveal a bruised and severely beaten Benji. “I should have shot that son of a bitch more.” She tossed the pry bar away and grabbed his hand to help him stand. “Can you walk?”

“Miss Mitchell, I’ll walk anywhere you tell me to.” She nodded and pulled his arm over her shoulder to help him limp out of the room. “Is Emily alright? Did you manage to get to them in time?”

It was sweet and she smiled softly as she patted his chest. “She’s fine, I promise. Let’s worry more about getting out of here before the dust settles. You gotta come with us now. Sorry Deputy, but you’ll likely be a wanted man from here out.”

“How much do you think my bounty will be?”

Beca couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up at his question. “Twenty dollars at least.”

“Twenty?! I’da thought that I’d at least get a hundred. Twenty. Really?” Yeah, he’d fit in with the gang just fine. Benji stopped them as they passed the Sheriff and painfully reached down to rip the badge off the dead man’s chest. He let out a deep regretful sigh and pocketed the badge. “You don’t deserve this, not even in death old man.”

“C’mon Deputy, let’s get on home to your girl.”

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belovas-vest · 6 years

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undead au pt two

pt one | playlist

when they get into the bus they’re pretty much trapped by zombies, so in retrospect it maybe wasn’t the best idea, but running away wasn’t really an option either

chloe really doesn’t like that she’s in this, doesn’t like that she had to go from being carefree and going to school to fighting for her life and killing what maybe still be a human inside

her mother did always say she could adjust to just about anything

speaking of her mother, chloe wonders how france is; if it’s the same or better or, god forbid, worse. she hopes her parents are alright either way

in the time from when benji had been killed to the bus, chloe and emily have gotten really close. or rather emily’s gotten really close to chloe

which is Fine, but after seeing what happened to emily when benji died, chloe’s finding it harder to be positive that nothing is going to happen to the ones close to her and she really doesn’t want to attach herself too much to emily

she’s pretty sure it’s too late for that because she always cares too much and too deeply (she always did follow her heart)

there’s a night where chloe can’t sleep and neither can stacie

“i keep dreaming that everyone dies around me and there’s nothing i can do to stop it, and it scares me that it might come true” chloe explains quietly

stacie tells her she can’t think like that, but “i can’t pretend like everything’s okay either, that this is normal, stace.” “just try not to think about everyone dying. besides the east coast is probably working on a cure as we speak” “yeah, okay” chloe responds somberly

the morning comes with one of the undead managing to break through the bus door and suddenly the moment everyone had been dreading has come

most of them make it to safety except for a member from bumper’s group (a guy named unicycle) who played a part in saving everyone else, leaving bumper and donald to join the others in hopes there’s a better chance with a larger number

chloe tells herself she’s never going to forget unicylce, she’s going to burn his name into her head

(later chloe writes his name down with a sharpie on her arm)

the group finds a vacant hotel, left quickly by whoever had been living/staying here

chloe thinks maybe they’re headed in the wrong direction if they’re finding places abandoned instead of filled with people like them; still somewhat sane

aubrey explains that they just need a place to stay for a bit and find supplies

jesse has an added idea: “if we create a good blockade system, we could make this our base”

“we’d be sitting ducks,” argues bumper “no way.” “not if we create a way we can come at go” counters jesse

bumper seems to think it’s not such a terrible idea

chloe’s not sure what to think, but she trusts jesse with her life and if he thinks they might be better off staying and creating a base, then she’s going to back him up

they find the supplies they need: food, water, clothes, and running water

jesse and aubrey start to devise a plan with the group on how to make this place a base and eventually everyone pitches in ideas on how to do it

by the next morning they have a plan set and now all they have to do is set it up

each person is required to be on look out duty once a week while the rest of the members work on making the base survivable

emily ends up staying with chloe most nights

which chloe’s starting to learn is more helpful than anything because she sleeps better with emily by her side

she copes better with emily to talk to

not that jesse isn’t still her best friend, not that she can’t go to jesse and tell him that she’s scared to sleep and that she’s scared she’s going to lose him

or that maybe she really isn’t cut out for this killing people who may or may not be dead; who may or may not have hope

she can

but jesse has gone from emotional to logical ever since this whole mess started and he’s especially so around aubrey

which is good, chloe thinks, because it’s helped the group survive

she also thinks it’s good that aubrey doesn’t seem to mind his antics about movies and music in movies

there’s a night when everyone stays up because while the barriers are officially up, they can hear some undead groaning and trying to bring down the barriers

they talk about the lives before all this, they get to know each other, and it feels good

they don’t talk about the people they miss, the ones they’ve lost, the ones they’ve seen die

they do however laugh for the first time in a long time

chloe hopes that this is where things turn for the better and hopes that maybe they’ll survive to see all of clear up

tomorrow they’re going to look for more supplies (they’re not running low but aubrey thinks it might be good to go on a lookout anyway)

#chemily #undead au #mine: writing #mine: hc #undead: writing

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heryellowcup · 6 years

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Bechloe coffee shop AU; pt.5

(part1, part2, part3, part4)

“Jesse, I think I’m gay,” Beca stated simply as she barged into her best friend’s dorm room, the confusion clear in her voice. She hadn’t even considered that maybe Jesse wasn’t the only one on the other side of that door and regretted it as soon as she saw Benji, his roommate and best friend, staring at her, slowly backing out of the room.

“Uhh yeah, lesbians aren’t really my thing so, I’ll just…” he didn’t finish his sentence before he turned around and walked down the corridor. Beca just slammed the door shut behind him.

“I think I’m gay,” Beca repeated, still not sounding all that convinced as she was pacing up and down his room.

“Are you sure you’re not bisexual? I mean, I really thought we had something special there, at the beginning..,” he feigned being offended and grinned at her, which just made Beca glare even harder at him.

“This is not a joke, Jess! I actually think I might be gay!” And yep, she was totally freaking out now.

“Or bisexual,” he added quietly, trying not to laugh. “Seriously Becs, I don’t get it. You’re into chicks. And that is a surprise to…who exactly?”

The tiny brunette groaned and let herself fall down on the bed next to Jesse, clearly frustrated. “To me, Jesse. It’s a surprise to me!”

“Are you serious?” He started laughing loudly but quickly stopped himself when he realized Beca was actually going to murder him if he kept this up. “Don’t you think I’ve noticed you check out girls before?”

Beca gasped at that and slapped Jesse’s arm. “What the hell dude, I’ve never done anything like that!” And she really hadn’t. At least not consciously. She had never even considered that being into girls might be a possibility for her until, well, until she had met Chloe a few days ago.

“Oh yeah right, then why exactly did we spend all of our free time going to those stupid girl soccer games last year?”

“Is it so hard to believe that I actually just enjoy the sport?!” She rolled her eyes and then groaned, burying her face in Jesse’s pillow. “Whyy?” she whined.

“Why wha-“ Beca interrupted his question. “Her eyes. They’re so damn blue Jesse, it’s unreal! She has that stupid smile on her face like, all the time. And usually people like that annoy the crap outta me, you know that, but she’s so damn cute I almost don’t mind. And she has those cute freckles, you know. I…I kind of started a mashup for her.”

Beca just kept on rambling. Everything she had drowned in her music those past few days finally came to the surface. It didn’t matter that Beca wanted to push it all down again so desperately, it was out now.

And Jesse, who had been listening to her in amusement the the whole time, now perked up at her last sentence.

“Wait, you’re making a mashup for her?” He really couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Beca never did anything for anyone. And she was crazy about her personal space, especially when it came to her music.

Beca nodded and kept whining, knowing she was a goner.

“And…I let her listen to it,” she admitted. She didn’t have to look at Jesse to know he was staring at her in disbelief.

She was officially fucked.

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #beca x chloe #pitch perfect #bechloe fanfiction #bechloe fanfic #bechloe oneshot #bechloe fluff #anna kendrick #brittany snow #sendrick #pitch perfect3 #pp3 #wlw #lgbtq #coffee shop au

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callmearcturus · 17 days

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see, this is why i'm asexual, bc no human is even half as sexy as a moto guzzi. look at this shit.

#pt benji au

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callmearcturus · 5 months

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#pt benji au #I don't need this level of psychic damage

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callmearcturus · 16 days

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writer questions meme: 8, 13, 20 if you please

13. What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

It wasn't explicitly writing advice, but I can tell you where I learned what my specific style would be. There was a fic in the Dresden Files fandom called "Cross" by LightGetsIn. LGI was a tremendous writer and a very kind mentory-friend who I attended my first fan convention with. Extremely accomplished adult who I looked up to when I was barely an adult.

"Cross" is a story about the limitations of perspective. It was the first story that really drove home the idea that Character A would not have the same knowledge and understanding of the world as Character B.

In "Cross", the POV character is John Marcone, a non-magical mafia boss who is deeply entrenched in the magical world. He has a lot of factual knowledge of how magic works, but he's an Italian-American Catholic. So when he's pulled into doing magical rites to bring another character back to life, he specifically doesn't pick up on the more pagan symbology of what he's doing, but filters it through a Guilty Catholic filter. Hence the name of the fic, "Cross."

And that story, which isn't even my favorite LGI story, probably taught me the most about how to write Close Perspective Third Person, which is my default style. When I'm writing in a characters POV, I rigorously limit what the POV character knows and picks up on. I will plant clues and information that the audience will understand, but the connections a character makes, the reference pools they pull from, their morality and ethics, all of those inform that POV, and what you and I know does not.

That is probably the most important lesson I've ever had in creating my own writing method.

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions.

8 hours of sleep, small breakfast snack like a croissant, decaf beverage, one dextroamphetamine, and no one fucking talk to me for about 2 - 4 hours. I will write 4,000 words.

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Lets put this under a cut, and I'll give you some DVD commentary. This is from chapter 2 of you'll need a new name to survive this. It's the point where Benji realizes Ethan is stalking him and does that trick to lose him in the bookshop, then sits outside waiting for him.

Only five minutes later, the door opened, and Bell took one step out before freezing, his eyes falling on Benji.

Got you, Benji thought with a sharp little smile. "You didn't even buy a book? Bit rude."

One of the goals of the early chapters of PT AU was establishing Benji's character as boldly as possible because we were essentially telling a story that canon does not. This is YEARS before MI3, where Benji gets two gd scenes.

To me, the tightrope walk was that I wanted Benji to have a reasonable grip on authority, to be shiny and new and out of his depth but still empowered because of his accomplishments. He has managed to land a good job working for the US government, he successfully emigrated before he was 30 years old, he has an apartment and a cat, he's new to everything in the spy world but he also has a steel spine that frankly he's fucking earned.

Which is a long-winded way of saying that Benji is a bitch and I love him so much.

Bell's face was blank, but Benji could almost feel how fast his brain was moving, weighing his options. Eventually, he settled on huffing out a little chuckle and stepping closer to Benji. "Hi."

Meanwhile, Ethan. MI1-era Ethan is very very smart but very very traumatised. His skillset is rooted in controlling people and predicting them. So Benji, a fucking civilian, catching him off-guard like this is like waving a red flag at a bull. Or dangling a steak over a lion enclosure. Benji doesn't know it yet but he's setting himself up to be a tasty treat for Ethan Hunt circa the late 90s.

"Are you going to kill me or something?" Benji asked. "Is that your spook job, are you a hitman?"

The flash of expression on Bell's face was offended. (This makes me laugh every time. Ethan Hunt is not a killer unless he absolutely must be and he will go out of his way to avoid it. Being an assassin is gross and he doesn't want to be perceived at all bc he's a spy but if he MUST be perceived jfc don't assume he's a HITMAN) "What, no. I just…" Grimacing, he looked away, eyes scanning the other pedestrians around them. "Okay, I'm screwing this up, I can admit that. Can we talk somewhere private?"

Benji didn't even have to think about it. "We can talk somewhere public."

Benji is never going to be an IMF agent but his instincts are wildly correct. And that knowledge comes from a different place! He was a gay punk rock vagabond who dropped out of law school, he knows how to keep out of trouble. He is probably the guy who told his other punk friends "if you are arrested do not say a goddamn thing, just ask for your public defender, don't joke, don't be a smartarse, keep your mouth shut."

The smile that took over Bell's face was lovely, transforming his whole face from storm clouds to something more seasonal. "That's honestly a very smart answer, doc. C'mon, there's a bakery nearby. I'll buy you a coffee. Least I can do."

It really was, so Benji nodded and followed him.

They didn't speak until Bell opened the glass door to another shop and held it open for Benji.

"Wrong hand," Benji said, noticing the small wince Bell let out.

"Inside, doc."

If it isn't obvious, all of the observational skills Benji has canonically have been funneled into his preternatural observation of patients.

Basically, if Benji as a character has a specific set of SPECIAL stats, all of those are the same, he just has different tagged skills in this universe.

Canon Benji is probably.... Guns, Science, and Repair. PT Benji has Medicine, Barter, Speech.

"Not a doctor," Benji said. "You know I'm not a doctor."

"What do you want to drink, doc?"

Ethan is being purposefully annoying and I could write a whole post about Ethan's soft power and the way he manipulates people, but that'd be another post. Short version: some people you seduce, some people you act like a wounded gazelle at, and some people you annoy.

Inside the bakery was loud. It was a strangely open floor plan. A long pastry case cordoned off the seating area for the customers. On the other side was just… the bakery. There were ovens and industrial mixers and rolling racks of cooling bread. In the corner, the espresso machine howled with noise as the milk frother worked.

It smelled divine, like living inside a baguette during a spring shower of dark roast coffee.

It also was a constant racket, which Benji mentioned to Bell as he sat down and slid a dark tea with vanilla syrup across to Benji.

"That's the point," Bell said, slouching back in his chair. "It's very difficult to eavesdrop in here."

Well, he wasn't wrong. Looking to another occupied table nearby, Benji briefly tried to pick out a word of what was being said by the woman seated closest to him. Nothing.

"Right, then," Benji said, attention back on Bell. "Why are you following me?"

"Why?" Bell seemed taken aback.

One of the many moments in the early chapters that establish that Ethan's perception of Normal is not anything approaching actual normal.

"Yes, why."

"Normal intelligence collection."

"On your physical therapist?" Benji asked with a barked laugh.

"Yeah." Bell leaned on his elbows, one hand cupping his own jaw and holding his head up as he made uncomfortably direct eye contact. "You really don't know who I am? Or why some of the appointments on your calendar come with no information?"

Pursing his lips, Benji shook his head.

Blowing out a whistle through his teeth, Bell grinned. "Sorry, that's just… it's new. I'm surprised Dr. Falsion didn't clue you in, but I guess she's not technically supposed to." Lifting his mug, he looked down into it. "People do shit they're not technically supposed to all the time in this town."

Ethan's major trauma at this point is being targeted by Kittridge and the Mole Hunt, and his trust in people to do their jobs is at a critical low that it'll never recover from.

"I don't even know your name," Benji sighed, sipping his own drink. It didn't taste at all like iocaine powder, so he was probably safe for the moment.

Bell rested his temple against the knuckles of his hand, his gaze so intense that Benji didn't know how to look away without making it patently obvious he was unsettled. Whatever Bell saw, it made his lips curve up slight. "Alright. Yeah. My name is Ethan. I work for an organization that shouldn't legally exist, so that's why you don't get anything on me. Even CIA jackboots manipulating local governments are realer than I am." He blinked once. "Also, I was an unprofessional shitheel last session, and I apologize."

Ethan apologizes here because Benji has earned his respect. And also by earning his respect, Ethan is also aware that Benji is not going to be so easy to maneuver around, so he fesses up that he was a prick, softly setting up a different tactic with Benji.

Benji felt his eyes going wider and wider with every sentence until it was a little hard to breathe. So his patient wasn't the American equivalent of an MI5 or MI6 so much as an MI8?

That did sort of start to explain what a pain in the ass he was.

"Shame," Benji managed after a moment of sitting fairly gobsmacked. "I was getting attached to 'Bell.' But I appreciate… all that. Thanks." He frowned. "Are you saying all this because you're actually sorry or are you sick of being stonewalled?"

Benji has a much more cynical mind than Ethan is the funny thing. Benji gets arguably more accurate reads on people than Ethan does. Or, Ethan gets accurate reads but he is continuously poisoned by the hope that people will be better than he expects. So FUNCTIONALLY, Ethan is an optimist and Benji is a realist.

Bell— Ethan— grinned. "That's a very good question. You actually have great instincts, doc. You did a surprisingly good job of shaking me when I was tailing you, especially for a civilian."

One of my favorite running gags is Benji being impossible to tail, so I'm glad we really drove it home the first time it happened. I love consistency in longfic.

"Again: thanks. Don't suppose you'll answer my other question?"

Ethan sipped his coffee, his smile visible around the edge of his cup.

"Right," Benji sighed. At least this felt like progress. And at least he probably wasn't going to be disappeared by a government assassin. That was a relief.

So this entire bit is Ethan reassessing Benji and pivoting his methods and tactics, setting up for a better way of handling Benji. And also being kind of charmed by him.

#relaxed-and-extremely-uneasy #talking about writing #pt benji au

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