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ethereousdelirious · 4 years

Text

Ask and ye shall receive

Fandom: T.he G.reat G.atsby

Characters: N.ick C.arraway, T.om B.uchanan

Pairings: N/A

Tropes: hangovers, heat exhaustion

Summary: N.ick, battling a vicious hangover, goes to New York with T.om only to get heat exhaustion. (It’s honestly pitiful how bad I am at writing summaries but that’s what happens ghgdjhgdz)

Warnings/Notes: there’s actually no emeto in this one believe it or not

More notes under cut

Uh yeah so I wasn’t really feeling inspired by the prospect of writing yet another Natsby fic, so I decided to explore Nick’s relationship with Tom? I really like Tom as a character for lots of reasons but in this context because, while he’s genuinely awful and has no redeeming qualities, he’s never really antagonistic toward Nick (or Jordan, for that matter). You can tell he doesn’t think of himself as a bad guy and that’s fucking fascinating to me, especially in terms of his ability to form connections with people he doesn’t perceive as beneath him.

ALSO I was kinda exploring his toxic masculinity vs Nick’s gentler, less threatening masculinity and Tom’s ability to express affection within that hypermasculine framework.

God sorry anyway. You didn’t come here to read an English paper. Here’s the fic. it’s short.

In New York, surrounded by temptation at every turn, it was so hard to not overindulge.

In weaker moments, Nick would reflect that at least his occasional night of drunkenness had far fewer negative consequences than a night spent in the arms of a strange woman, or under heroin's hazy spell.

Today, however, no such excuses filled Nick’s head, only an arrhythmic pounding that worsened significantly when he had to stand up to exit the cab he had taken over to East Egg.

The flat soles of his leather shoes crunched in the white gravel of the driveway, grinding against his eardrums.

It wasn't even the worst hangover he'd had, not by a longshot, but it was certainly enough to make him wish he was back in bed.

Oh, well. Nick sighed as he approached the door. There was nothing to be done about it now.

Tom was waiting for him just beyond the heavy, oak door of the Buchanan estate.

"There you are," he said, his booming voice filling the hall. He pushed past the butler and wrapped his arm around Nick's shoulders. "I was beginning to think you'd never make it."

"Oh, I thought I was on time," Nick said, struggling to check his watch, but Tom wasn't even listening.

"I want to introduce you to some people," Tom said as he steered Nick back down the driveway. "You need connections if you're going to get anywhere in life."

"Oh," Nick said flatly, his head buzzing. Still, he knew from experience it was pointless getting irritated with Tom. "Thanks," he added. His mouth was dry and still tasted vaguely of gin.

"No, no. No need to thank me, Nick," Tom replied loftily. "We look out for each other, don't we?" He gave Nick a long look, the kind that indicated this was not a rhetorical question.

"Of course we do." Nick tried to smile.

"Good." Tom patted him on the back and pushed him toward the passenger side of the coupé. "Now let's go."

The drive into the city was a welcome rest, a sort of calm before the inevitable storm of heat and light that was New York proper. Tom talked the whole way with Nick chiming in at the appropriate pauses, usually to agree. Tom Buchanan was not the sort of man you could argue with.

Nick didn't even bother to ask where they were going when they got out of the car, just followed along in Tom's wake and tried not to walk into people.

It was hot. Even with his hat and the light material of his suit, Nick could feel the sunlight pouring down on him, heating him inside and out.

The light alone would have been enough to exacerbate his headache to the point of agony, but the noise was almost unbearable. Dimly, he could make out Tom's hulking form beginning to disappear into the crowd and he tried to speed up again.

It was too much. He stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk and tried to catch his breath, to get the buzzing in his head to calm down.

"Nick?" Tom's voice was suddenly near. "What are you doing?"

"Sorry, I--"

"Do I have to lead you along like a dog? Come on." Tom put a hand between Nick's shoulders and all but shoved him forward. The crowd obligingly parted for them and Nick allowed Tom to march him forward. It was just easier.

Tom was a fast walker. Usually it was no trouble for Nick to match his pace but today even keeping himself upright felt like a struggle. His face was almost painfully hot and the throbbing in his head was starting to make him feel sick. The hot dryness of his breath irritated his cracked lips and he couldn't help but lick them, wincing at the taste of blood. Nausea rolled threateningly in his stomach and his vision wavered.

"Where're you taking me, New Jersey?" he tried to joke.

"Very funny. We're almost there, just a few more blocks."

Nick fought the urge to just let himself fall down on the sidewalk. He was starting to get dizzy, like he was stuck on one of Coney Island's thrill rides.

Without warning, Tom led him around a corner and Nick stumbled. The vertigo left him unable to right himself and fell heavily against Tom before hitting the wall of the building next to them.

"What's the matter with you?" Tom glanced around like Nick was embarrassing him.

"I..." It was so hard to think, let alone speak. Nick's head was swimming with the severity of the pain hammering at his temples and the base of his skull.

To his credit, Tom did look concerned. He pressed the back of his hand briefly to Nick's cheek, then looked him over. "Must be the heat. My fault, really. You always were delicate."

Nick's knees buckled as if on cue. He slumped half-conscious against Tom's chest, loathing that heat generated by their bodies' proximity but unable to move.

"Okay!" Tom hauled Nick to his feet and arranged his limbs so he could lean against Tom's shoulder. "Think you can make it back to the car without fainting on me?"

It took a long while for the word's to permeate the static buzzing in Nick's ears. They were a ways down the sidewalk when he mumbled an affirmative, more of a sound than a word.

"Good man."

Nick made it to the car without blacking out, but it was a near thing. The world was a blur of pain and noise, stimulus with no clear edges or details. He didn't even notice he was lying down in the backseat until they were halfway over the bridge, and then he only closed his eyes. If he could just sleep.

He couldn't. Even the slightest movement of the car jostled his aching head and brought him closer to the verge of vomiting. It was all he could to not cry out. He doubted Tom would appreciate it.

His breathing must have changed because Tom said, "Hold on, we're almost there," and accelerated.

Even through the feverish haze clouding his mind, Nick couldn't help but be surprised. Tom had always had a soft spot for him, but he would have expected his affections to fade by now. Nick had always lacked the commanding hypermasculinity that Tom always projected. Tom would certainly never allow himself to end up in this position.

Nick was still dwelling on this unhappy line of thought when the car came to a stop. He sat up slowly and stood up even slower.

Tom was waiting there by his shoulder, ready to catch him and give him a paternalistic pat on the shoulder.

"We'll get you sorted out inside, don't you worry."

Only then did Nick notice that they were back at the Buchanan's estate. His heart sank. "Oh, Tom, really, it's okay--"

"Nonsense. You're coming inside and you're not leaving until you're back on your feet again."

Nick was too tired for a proper protest, especially knowing that this was not an argument he could win. But desperation prevailed. "Really, I can just go--"

"I won't hear a word of it."

Tom continued to pull him along at a speed much faster than Nick could manage. His heart was pounding painfully in his chest, hard and rapid. He knew he ought to thank Tom, but he really didn't want to.

Still, he tried to move his lips to form the words and found them numb and tingling. The noise of the birds and the wind faded to radio static.

There was an odd pressure on Nick's stomach, preventing him from drawing a full breath. His feet weren't touching the ground.

And he still felt awful.

Confused, he opened his eyes.

Tom had him in a fireman's carry and was walking down one of the many hardwood halls of the Buchanan estate.

Nick sighed, his face burning with shame.

"I can walk," he croaked.

"Nonsense." Tom tried to glance at him, craving his neck awkwardly. He turned, maneuvering through a doorway, and deposited Nick onto a bed.

Nick arranged himself so he was on his back. He didn't have the energy to do much else but stare at the ceiling, although he did notice a pitcher of water on the bedside table.

"You're gonna be just fine," Tom said. He moved to Nick into a sitting position as easily as a child would move a doll, then poured out a glass of water. "Drink."

"Thank you," Nick said. He downed it without even passing for breath. The quickest way out of here would be to get better, and the quickest way to do that would be to drink. So he did. His head was still pounding and fuzzy, too much so for conversation. His eyes were starting to slide closed of their own accord.

Tom's blue gaze appraised Nick with the cool detachment of a predator assessing prey. "Get some rest," he said, reaching down to ruffle Nick's hair. "If you're not better by morning I'm sure Daisy will have a whole army of doctors in here, and I'd rather avoid the hassle." He gave a half-smile.

"I understand," Nick murmured, not able to bring himself to fake a laugh.

He sank back against the pillows and closed his eyes. Before drifting off, he could have sworn he felt Tom gently removing his shoes and bidding him a quiet "good night."

#ethereous writes

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tomjopson · 5 years

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The idea of a fic director’s cut is fascinating to me and tbh if you pasted any fic of yours in a doc and wrote a commentary, I’d be delighted to read it, but for the purpose of this meme: anything you’d like to say about “hope lost on yesterdays”? 🙌✨

I all but copy-pasted the fic, condensed with added commentary below the cut!

Sorry mobile users since read mores dont work properly on the app ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“hope lost on yesterdays” writers commentary addition *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The grind is deep enough that Edward feels the vibration inhis bones. It is a deep, guttural bellow, like that of a mammoth gate of ironand rust scraping open to reveal a deep descent into the bowels of the earth,beyond its molten crust into the unending conflagration of hell.

[Portrayals of hell in literature and media alike havealways fascinated me. Now of course, my portrayal here leans the traditionalfire/brimstone imagery, but I also like to play with the idea of a frozenwasteland, such as the Arctic itself, being indicatory of a hellish landscape.]

The ship groans again, as magnificently and terribly as acrack of lightning, and for a brief, heart-stopping second, Edward wonders ifthis was the final one; the wood of the ship splintering and bending to theintense pressure of the ice, crumpling inward as easily as a paper boat crushedin a child’s careless grip. [Is it a Terror fic without the ice groaning andsome metaphor about the ice crushing the ship? I think not. But I was pleasedwith the analogy of the child and paper boat which took me more time to comeup with than I like to admit because it makes the ice as careless and indifferent as a child with a plaything; it removes the malice from the force of nature.]

“You’d think it get easier,” Solomon’s rumbling andsleep-filled voice says, “ignoring the ice. Damn noise wakes me up every time.”[For all the people who sayI get Solomon’s voice down (which, by the way thank you ), Iliterally mutter dialogue to myself as I write it, and if I can picture DavidWalmsley saying it, I call it good.]

Edward hums in response, sliding deeper under the covers ofthe bunk when the man beside him turns toward him and wraps a pair of strongarms around his middle. The tip of Edward’s nose brushes against the man’sbeard, and he sniffs at the tickle.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Edward whispers, his eyesfluttering shut again when Solomon’s fingers start rubbing circles on his lowback. [Lots of casual intimacy in these paragraphs, constant little touches,a continual desire to be in contact; this plays off my belief that Edwardhimself is very tactile but also the intimacy that has blossomed between thesetwo and has translated to how physically comfortable they are with each other]

Solomon nudges a leg under him, and Edward allows him to twist them around sothat Edward lies on top [I love making characters manhandle Edward. Not surewhat that says about me…], the new position accentuating the leftover achebetween his legs.

…Sergeant Tozer had crept through the vacant wardroom to Edward’scabin door, sliding it open quietly and quickly, without invitation, but asmall and warm grin on his lips that dispelled any reprimand forming onEdward’s tongue. [Part of the appeal of many, many pairings in Terror isthat they’re all forbidden, to a certain extent. There’s always thethrill of secrecy and the risk of being caught, that makes each relationshipfeel dangerous and exhilarating, portrayed differently depending on thecharacters and how he would personally react to breaking/bending rules.]

…further loosened by the bottle ofmadeira that Solomon retrieved from the inner folds of his coat, lifted duringthe re-organizing of the ship’s stores as they prepared for the long walkacross the ice. [Although at this point in the show’s canon, Solomon does not like Hickey and has not flirted with the idea of mutiny yet, hehas made his feelings on authority pretty clear, so I like to think that hisway of “sticking it to the man” would manifest in things like his stealing thewine.]

“And who will punish me? Can’t be the first lieutenant.He’s a habit of breaking rules himself.”

“What rules would those be?”

Solomon had given him a wicked smirk as he handed him thebottle.

“I don’t think the Admiralty takes kindly to theirofficers sucking cocks, sir.”

[Another trope I like exploring in Terror fics is how themen react to homosexuality, his own personal sexual preference, the need forromantic vs platonic vs sexual love, and how that translates to hisinterpersonal relationships. Now, because I am an absolute sap, Itypically lean romance in a lot of my portrayals, but I like to think that whatdrew Solomon and Edward together in the first place was physical.]

They fucked in near silence, the pillow swallowing Edward’ssighs and Solomon digging his teeth into Edward’s shoulders to muffle hismoans. [The sex scene is straightforward because these two clearly know whatthey want from each other and don’t feel the need to draw it out withunnecessary pretense. Plus, at this point in their relationship, I believethey’ve fucked a few times before and have their nonverbal communication and rhythm down.]

Perhaps it was the acceptance that their expedition had failed, and now, theywere simply trying to escape the Arctic with as few casualties as possible. [Ireally want to highlight the last line of this paragraph because I think, in alot of ways, conceding defeat and accepting failure is one the biggestcharacter flaws of numerous Terror characters. Admitting failure is tough,sure, but the stubbornness and arrogance of this led to men’s deaths and further suffering. And of course, the failure is even worse when you add the ever-increasing number of men lost.]

That night was also when Sergeant Tozer—some unspeakablequality also altered in him, following Carnivale and the death of PrivateHeather—had crossed the threshold into officer country for the first time andelbowed his way into Edward’s cabin and bed. [It was important for me tomention the loss of Heather, whether as the loss of a friend to Tozer or theloss of one of his “men” so to speak. This loss was what propelledTozer forward, to pursue Little. The use of the verb elbow wasjust a further nod to how Tozer wrenched his way into Little’s life, but youknow like affectionately.]

“I don’t want to go,” he admits, the words falling from histongue like the last leaves clinging to a long-dead tree.

“You don’t have to. This is your cabin.”

The attempt at humor is poor, but the irritation in Edward’svoice is dulled by his exhaustion.

“The ships, Tozer. I don’t want to leave the ships.” [I love this exchange, because Edwardis broaching a very difficult topic, and Tozer just lets it slide off his backlike water, still attempting to bring lightness to the situation.]

Instead, Solomon’s voice is muffled by the hair on Edward’s headwhen he says, “We may die yet, and all this will finally be over.” [self-destructiveor simply realistic? This fatalism that grows in Tozer is partly what made himso susceptible to Hickey’s mutiny later.]

Edward sits on the edge of his bunk, and Solomon’s kneesbump into his as the man fumbles toward him in the darkness. Solomon gropes forEdward’s hand, and he unfurls each finger, tracing the lines along Edward’spalm. The longer he stands there, holding Edward’s hand, the more that Edwardfights the urge to interlace their fingers and pull Solomon back. [It was soso so important to me that it wasn’t just 1) drink 2) fuck 3) leave, so I triedto infuse as much sensual intimacy as I could into this story. The sex is aperk, sure, but what ultimately draws these two together is a deep desire for connection, understanding, and comfort. The hand holding is another exchangethat shows how they don’t want this shared moment to end, and how both of thembenefit from and desire this intimacy.]

“See you on the other side, sir,” he says as his goodbyebefore he slides the door open and leaves. [Significant that this is what he says vs simply a goodbye or, worse, nothing.]

Edward settles himself back into his bed, burying his noseinto the portion of his pillow where traces of Solomon’s scent clings. [The yearning.Still clinging to traces of Solomon, even as the man’s presence disappears fromthe room.]

[Final note, I wrote this in a single evening, literallyout of a desperate desire to have more Little/Tozer content. I went into itdeciding that I didn’t even care if the fic was any good or not, and, much tomy chagrin but also relief, this ended up being one of my better fics. Removingthe crippling perfectionism and expectations does writers wonders. I also very much want to write a companion piece that takes place during the first day both of them are at Terror Camp together, so fingers crossed that I write that sooner than later.]

#ferrame #edward little #solomon tozer #the terror fanfic #lozer #meet me in the schoolyard at 3 pm to fight over the ship name #asks #my writing

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malliebuu · 6 years

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Mallie’s Reylo Fanfic Rec List:

This is in no particular order and not limited to! There are so many talented writers out there! These are stories that have really stuck with me, so I am sharing them with you all! I will add as I go.

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The Inheritance of the Resistance by @waterlilyrose

Rating: Explicit

Summary: The discovery of a new unknown Duchess of the House of Kenobi brings new life to the Rebellion Court. Having lost their old Queen Leia, Rey and Han are forced into a deeply unconventional but quietly happy marriage. Having never had a family of her own, Rey sees Han as the father figure she always longed for.

So when the disgraced Prince returns to court to make amends with his aging King, how will he take to the girl who is now effectively his stepmother?

Medieval/Tudor Reylo.

Review: This has Tudor vibes - it is unreal. I love history, so naturally historically AUs are right up my ally. I was quite impressed by the setup and dynamic. The author uses Star Wars terms in place for the historical ones. This doesn’t follow the Tudor chain of events, but veers in it’s own original direction. Ben and Rey for this interesting relationship and it is quite troubled because Rey is actually married to Ben’s father ::gasp::. Love this fiction. So beautifully heartbreaking! (complete)

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There Shall I Be By philcollins

Rating: Not Rated (Mature if anything)

Summary: AU in which Rey, our lonely scavenger from The Force Awakens, meets Kylo Ren under very different circumstances - he's a shepherd on Jakku. Rey inherits an estate on the moon Ceathea and Kylo follows her there, works for her there, and soon encounters his hated old foe, Uncle Luke Skywalker. Will Rey ever accept Kylo's love? Will crusty old Luke Skywalker come between Rey and her true love? More familiar faces will make an appearance in this Force-free story of love, longing, angst, and anger.

Review: This story was so heartbreaking, but so good. A mix of pining, angst, drama and uncertainty. This story I read nonstop and was quite heart broken, but these two stubborn people just need a little extra time in order to figure out they were meant for one another. This story had me sighing and talking aloud with frustration! So well-written! (Complete)

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The End of Father Kylo By Sweet_Solitude

Rating: Explicit

Summary: After a filthy youth and almost suffering a great loss, Kylo turns to priesthood and leads a virtuous life. That is until he meets a girl who turns his world upside down and reminds him that he has a functioning body below his waist.

Review: Again, this one was found during my priest Kylo fazes. Don’t judge me! This has everything you would think when you think of the church and priests, though there is a little bit of something else. Yes, I am going to hell. I know this. Smut, smut! Love this kinky one-shot. If you aren’t offended by this, give it a read. ::fans face:: (one-shot)

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Fault Lines By Devil Betty

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Rey has always dreamed of a family. She starts to believe she could have it when she moves in with her new foster mother, Leia Organa. Then Leia’s son, Ben, moves back home and threatens to ruin the life Rey is trying to build. Nothing will prepare either of them for the truth. Some family secrets should stay hidden.

Review: This story is a “page-turner”. It has a simple setting, but so much happens and the dialogue between both Kylo and Rey are so intriguing. The chemistry is unmistakable and the lemons are to die for. Unfortunately, this is one minor thing that has a draw back, and both character experience a major revelation that hurts them both. Please read warnings before reading!!

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Spit and Sweat by bunnystealsyourcarrots

Rating: Explicit

Summary: In 1975, Finalizer played a gig at CBGB. The punk band gave their best, the crowd went wild, but a young girl named Rey wanted more.

God Save Them All.

Review: AH! This AU I really couldn’t get enough of because it involves our lovely Kylo and Rey, but is also peppered with sex, drugs and rock-n-roll! I mean...no on the drugs, but in all seriousness, I LOVE Rock-n-roll! So, naturally I honed in on this like no one’s tomorrow! The chemistry between Kylo and Rey is off the damn charts! Ugh, the sexual tension! I absolutely love how this starts as a childhood crush and as she gets older Kylo sees her and is completely blown away! (Uncomplete)

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Love and Comfort, Sex and Wondering If This Could Be Our Turn By AquaWolfGirl

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Anonymous Prompt: Ben and Rey are in college and best friends, and very much in love, they just don't realize it. Rey is tired of people making jokes about her being a virgin, so she asks Ben to help her out.

Review: Virgin Rey has a little delima. Ben is there to help guide her. This is actually a very sweet and sexy story! Give it a read! The author is a fantastic writer! (One-Shot)

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nolite te bastardes carborundorum By SaintHeretical

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Born on the fringes of a dystopian dictatorship, Rey has lived most of her life in the shadows until desperation drives her into the hands of the government. Her unblemished womb is her only salvation, which leads to her being placed as a Handmaid in the household of Commander Kylo Ren and his infertile wife.

Her task? Produce a healthy child for the Commander, or be banished to a life of hardship and almost certain death. A Reylo Handmaid’s Tale AU

Review: I loved The Handmaid's Tale, so naturally when I visited this story, I was drawn to that aspect. There is non-con in this, so please beware when reading. If you do not know the Hulu original series, refer to their site for a detailed description. The author, in response to this TV show, stays true, but brings originality and this is really a wonderfully written piece. The author is extremely talented! (Unfinished)

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Innocents Lost By Pontmercy44

Rating: Explicit

Summary: “That’ll scar.” Han stood behind him, nervously. He’d always been nervous around him, first, because he was a baby, and Han didn’t understand babies, and then, because he had the Force, and Han didn’t understand the Force. “Girls like scars.”

“It’s not like it matters.” Ben looked out at the thousands of spires. “I’m going to be a Jedi.”

Han grunted in sympathy, and then sat next to him, swinging his legs off the side of the tower. The urge to feel alive, to take risks and taste danger – that was what he’d inherited from his father. “Heard you got off the hook.”

“Not exactly. Community service.”

“Better than a detention block.” Han leaned back on his hands.

Ben scoffed. “It’s asinine.”

His father shifted, looking up at the stars, through the hazy, translucent atmosphere of Hosnian Prime. “What do they have you doing? Picking up orbit pollution, or something?”

“Worse.” Ben snorted. “Teaching orphans to read and write Basic. On Jakku.”

Han winced. “Only slightly better than a detention block.”

Review: Love this story! I flew through it. Very well-written! Ben has to do community service as punishment and meets little Rey on Jakku. This forbidden relationship is beautiful and bittersweet at the same time. I love this first love adaptation! The author went above and beyond with these two! (complete)

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Daddy Dearest By AquaWolfGirl

Rating: Explicit

Summary: When single father Ben Solo moves into his new apartment in Bespin with 5-month old daughter Amy in tow, he hopes to hell and back that this life will be better than the one they left behind in upstate New York. It's not long before his life becomes a cycle of work, Amy, work, Amy. One night, while trying to fish his keys from his pocket without waking his infant daughter, Rey, his next door neighbor, offers a helping hand.

Review: Daddy Ben! He is a great dad who falls for the babysitter. Interesting read; well written! You feel so sorry for Ben, but also Rey is a God send! Sweet interactions! Give it a read if you want some light hearted, fluffy interactions. Not much for fluff, but this was really a nice read! :3

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Stigmata By SaintHeretical

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Fifteen years after tragedy tore them apart, a priest and his sister band together to protect a homeless girl who appears to have been touched by God. Too bad his excommunicated nephew seems to have other plans for her.

A Reylo slow burn Modern/Religious AU.

Review: After the priest hype came out, I searched merely to humor myself. I found a few fictions that really had an interesting plot. This is one of them. Focused on Christianity and different groups within. Kylo and Leia are curious about this young girl who turns out to be homeless and has a curious development. She has formed the stigmata. This really is different than anything I have experienced. I usually don’t go for stuff like this, but there is enough angst and romance to fill my needs. LOVE it!

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World In My Eyes By Sasstasticmad

Rated: Explicit

Summary: "The bond should be dead," Rey says through gritted teeth. "Just like you.”

"The bond is only this strong because of you," Kylo Ren tells her. "You're the one who touched me. You took my hand and let me hold yours. This is your fault, not mine. (A post-TLJ force bond fic)

Review: This is after TLJ. I was obsessed for a while, which I am sure comes to no shock to anyone! Everyone was wrapped up in the force bond, which sasstasticmad delivers VERY well! There is so much continued tension between Rey and Kylo. It is quite interesting to see these two continue their interaction from opposite groups. The Resistance Vs First Order. (incomplete)

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Wolves By @albastargazer

Rated: Explicit

Summary: Rey Kenobi is a human beta until one fatal night and everything changes. With the existence of werewolves turning her world upside down, she is left with only her boss, Ben Solo, to help. Little did she know he is an Alpha wolf and the next leader of his pack, intent on claiming his rare omega.

Review: A/O/B dynamic. This story really is amazing. I have always had a soft spot for werewolves and I haven’t really had the pleasure of finding one that really stuck yet, of course, that was until I stumbled upon this little number. The dynamic between Ben and Rey is quite interesting. A horrible event leads Rey down an interesting path. Ben takes charge and attempts to help Rey. Interesting revelations emerge, however. (incomplete)

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Hatchling By g_girl143 @gwendy85

Rated: Teen

Summary: Rey's leads a predictable life as a general labourer at Niima Junkyard until an unexpected visit from the daughter she doesn't even know exists turns her world into a tailspin.

Review: This is simply the sweetest story. I binged it in one sitting. So sad that it doesn’t update as frequently, but when I do get an e-mail I am jumping for joy! This author really is talented. Love the way this dynamic is set up. There are so many intriguing questions-- you are left wanting more. So bitter sweet it isn’t complete! It really is something I haven’t seen done before. Really hope that it is completed someday! So much potential! I cannot wait to see what becomes of this new found family knit that develops on a whim, no thanks for Rey’s surprise daughter! ;)

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Kismet by @ladylionhart

Rated: Mature

Summary: Sometimes, what seems like a simple mistake is truly the first step of a fateful journey.

- Or the one where a single text message sent to the wrong number completely changes the lives of two people and those around them.

Review: Easily one of my all time favs! This is such an amazingly written, intriguing AU. It really begins like none other via text. Both parties, shockingly, continue their witty bouts of conversation until they both begin to develop feelings for one another without actually seeing one another. When they finally begin to interact on a level far from platonic, it heats up fast and you are left needing more! LOVE!

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Summer Heat By @isharan

Rating: Explicit

Summary: A lonely young woman arrives at the cottage she inherited from her grandfather on a remote lake in northern Ontario, to find her neighbor is a rare Alpha, a relic of the old days when humans were ruled by their designation. Across a long hot summer, they connect over their shared history, and she finds that the past may not be as far away as she assumed.

Review: ::Bats lashes:: What can I say about this one? Well, I am slowly dying because man is this a slow burn! This is an A/O/B dynamic, but it is so well written that it isn’t just a heat and commence screwing each other’s brains out. No, this really has amazing storyline that has you asking questions or attempting to figure out the author’s train of thought. Gosh, there are so many good things to say about this fic! Ben is absolutely a dream in this fiction too. I cannot even begin to describe because I just wouldn’t do it justice. This fiction killed me in a good way! (Incomplete)

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Serotonin and Dopamine By Pontmercy44

Rating: Explicit

Summary: He could lie and say it was because he was gentleman, but that wasn’t quite true. “I – well, I want to take advantage of you. But I know better.”

Rey looked at him for a long moment, and Ben thought she might slap him. She didn’t. She started to laugh, shaking her head as if she couldn’t quite believe it. Finally, she said, smiling, “Goodnight, Ben.”

Ben turned and walked slowly back to his car. He heard her door creak open, but he didn’t hear it slam shut. It felt as if he was walking away from his chance, from his chance to have something good and uncomplicated and nice.

Ben turned around, and went back to the door. Rey waited for him, biting her lip. He took off his stocking cap and held it in his hands in front of himself. His ears were cold without his hat, but he was in the posture of remorse and penance. "I'm sorry. I'm an ass. Can I kiss you again?"

Review: This fiction was different and reeled me in because Ben was different. In this fiction he has mental disorder that makes it difficult to form relationships. Though, Rey takes to him and Ben to her in the sweetest of ways! I really liked the development in this story. The author delivers fluffy feels too. I am not usually one that enjoys a ton of fluff, but they did right by it! (Complete)

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An empire to be won By Bitterbones @dvrksister

Rating: Explicit

Summary: The grin of satisfaction that split Rey’s face was utterly demented. “In three days time I will be wed to her son.” Rose blanched at the word son, apparently having been unaware of the familial relationship between her beloved general and the scourge of the galaxy.

Rey chuckled and continued, “It will be televised across the galaxy, and I’m certain that she will be watching; supportive mother that she is. Tell her to look on her son’s face, and see that he is gone. Tell her that the mark she sees there is my own, that it is an engagement gift from myself. And tell her that where she failed to save Ben Solo, I will raise Kylo Ren.”

[In which Kylo and Rey are betrothed as children and separated for their respective darkside trainings. Their reintroduction as adults is explosive, to say the least.]

Review: Cold Showers. I swear, these two, from the beginning, have so much sexual chemistry I had to fan myself when reading. Holy shit, this was tense. I LOVE her Kylo. This is an arranged marriage fiction, but even so there is so much going on in the world she so wonderfully weaved as well as the character interactions. You will be flying through each chapter begging for more! (Incomplete)

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Eunoia By MalevolantReverie @malevolent-reverie @meth-lab-shenanigans

Rate: Explicit

Summary: Rey Kenobi, an underachieving college student becomes tangled in a twisted web with her astronomy professor, Kylo Ren, who is hiding a dark secret. (Unfinished)

Review: Violent, dark, heart wrenching, Eunoia is the cream of the crop for dark fictions. I am a huge horror fan, so naturally I was curious to read something dark and dreary in regards to Reylo. The author doesn’t hope back, which I am quite pleased about. She really builds her word and characters fantastically. The dark character of Kylo really stays completely vile. Please only read if you can hand reading explicit content. Contains non-con!

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The Quietest Evening By MalevolantReverie @malevolent-reverie @meth-lab-shenanigans

Rated: Mature

Summary: Every so often, a girl disappears. No one knows where they go or why they’re taken, but they're never seen alive again. Rey, the police chief’s daughter, is next.

Review: This story is one of my favorites from MR. This one wasn’t nearly as graphic as the others she has written, but I really like the storyline she has built here. It was dark, contained secrets and revelations that had my jaw dropping. I really was at the edge of my seat for this one. It really got my heart pumping! If you are looking for a dark, angsty thriller this is the story for you. Please be aware there are triggers and non-con! (Completed)

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Nobody Knows By hernamewasalice @hernamewasalicewriter

Rated: Explicit

Summary: Nobody knows that the loving wife of Ben Solo was kidnapped as a teenager. Nobody knows. Not their family or closest friends. Not even their twelve year old son, Benny.

Review: Amazing story! This is another extremely dark fic, but more so the past that is associated with Rey and Kylo. Kylo has so many secrets, so does Rey. They look like the perfect couple, but really they have a more sinister start. There are parts that are tender and sweet, but the reality and hard truth of it all is quite painful. Author has an extremely fantastic beginning where she pulls you in. It is seen through the eyes of their son! So good! Recommend! Please be warned, however, there is non-con and violence! (Unfinished)

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#reylo #reylo fanfiction rec #rey x kylo ren #ben solo x rey

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terriblelifechoices · 7 years

Note

Hi! Just letting you know that I've been having a rough month and reading+re-reading your fics (and comment fics! love the ones about the Graves kiddies/families and Graves' team in the cell lmao) has been a great stress reliever for me :) I really want to leave longer comments on your chapters but I think I'll only be able to do that when stuff gets better lol. For the time being, thank you for the lovely writings!

Hey, I’m really sorry you’re having a rough month. I’m glad reading the fic and comment fics helps relieve a little stress, though. Please don’t worry about comments! I hope things get better for you soon.

And just in case it helps, I thought maybe you’d enjoy more comment fic just for you. ;)

… This might actually need to be its own series of comment fic. The Graves Brood vs. Ilvermorny

Ilvermorny, Massachusetts, October 1944

“Do you know,” Professor Jauncey mused, “I am starting to think I should just create a Graves-specific form letter to send to your parents.” He sounded more wistful than anything else, as though the streamlined precision of a form letter would protect him from further Graves sibling antics.

Gawain was not sure why the headmaster thought a form letter would protect him, but he sympathized with the impulse.

Gawain loved his older siblings, but he was not blind to their faults. Individually, Galahad and Olwen could be a lot to handle. Together, they were terrifying.

“Sorry, sir,” he said, and meant it. He had no idea how to make Galahad and Olwen stop being Galahad and Olwen, and he was pretty sure the headmaster didn’t either. Gawain knew better than to try, but the headmaster didn’t seem to have figured that out yet.

Jauncey sighed. “I really think you mean that,” he said.

“Well,” Gawain said. “I’m not sorry about disrupting Professor Thompson’s class.”

The headmaster sighed again. “Of course you’re not. What are you sorry about, then?”

“Galahad and Olwen.”

Jauncey’s puzzled look went a bit strained around the edges. A lot of people had that reaction to Galahad and Olwen, especially once they met them. “What do Galahad and Olwen have to do with your disrupting Professor Thompson’s class?”

“Nothing sir,” said Gawain. “I’m just sorry they’ve …” He made a vague hand gesture designed to convey Galahad and Olwen’s essential Galahad-and-Olwen-ness. “Y’know. Set a precedent for how the Graves family behaves.”

Jauncey looked down his nose at Gawain. He had rather a lot of nose to look down, so it was a pretty impressive look. “A precedent that you seem determined to follow,” he observed.

Gawain felt that was unfair, and said so. “I am not! I’m not crazy,” he hastened to assure the headmaster. Galahad and Olwen were determined to follow Dad and Gwen and a lot of the Aunties and Uncles into MACUSA. Gawain was pretty sure MACUSA and the rest of wizarding America would be safer for it, but he also thought that anyone who wanted to be an Auror was just plain nuts. Anyone who voluntarily got chased and hexed and sometimes tortured by Dark wizards had to be off their rocker.

“Mr. Graves,” Jauncey said, repressive. “Fascinating as this discussion is, I am not going to debate the relative sanity of anyone in the Graves family with you.”

Gawain squinted at him. He was pretty sure that the headmaster had just implied that they were all nuts, but he wasn’t one hundred percent certain. He wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not.

Probably not. He was already in enough trouble.

“Right, sir,” he said. “Sorry, sir.”

“Getting back to the matter at hand,” said Jauncey. “Why don’t you tell me, in your own words, what happened.”

Gawain resisted the urge to make a face. Dad liked that trick. So did Uncle John and Uncle Alex. It was an Auror thing. Asking people to tell you what happened in their own words put them at ease, and it also made them more likely to slip up and tell you more than they meant to.

Gawain had gotten wise to that trick when he was about seven.

“Professor Thompson was teaching us about healing potions,” Gawain said, trying to make it sound like he wasn’t thinking very carefully about what he was saying. “Today we were covering Pepper-Up, ‘cause we’re coming up on cold season, and he wanted to be preemptive. And then someone asked if he meant for us to test the potion on ourselves, and Professor Thompson said yes. And she said, that’s dangerous, sir, and he said, I assure you, Miss - Um.” Gawain gave the headmaster a slightly panicked look. He did not want to get Rosamund Weiss in trouble too. She hadn’t even done anything wrong, aside from point out that it was wrong to experiment on children. “Anyway,” he forged on. “He said, I assure you that if you brew the potion correctly, it’s not dangerous at all.

“Except, it kind of is,” Gawain said. “Because we’re students and we’re still learning, and I think Libby Frasier’s melted more cauldron’s than anyone else in Ilvermorny history, so her potion probably wouldn’t be safe to drink at all. And Uncle Robert says that you should never, ever test a potion that you’re not completely sure of. Especially not outside of a controlled laboratory setting,” he added, because Papa had a bizarre love of potions and he and Uncle Robert could go on about them for hours. “Uncle Robert has this whole speech about lab safety,” Gawain added. “I’ve heard it kind of a lot.”

Jauncey looked resigned. “Yes, I gathered. You seem to have it memorized.”

“Er,” said Gawain. “I didn’t really mean to give the lab safety speech,” he said. “It just kind of … happened.”

That part was the first out and out lie he’d told all day. Professor Thompson had turned an ugly look on Rosamund. Gawain knew that look. It was the look that said Rosamund would be the one to try Libby’s potion, regardless of how it turned out, and that he wouldn’t let her go to the infirmary afterwards, either.

Gawain hadn’t wanted Rosamund to be sick. The Weiss’ and the Graves’ were allies. Sort of. He didn’t think Dad and Director Weiss got along very well personally, but they had each other’s backs professionally and that seemed to be good enough for them. Grown-up’s were weird like that.

Also, Rosamund was really pretty. Gawain got kind of stupid around her sometimes. He couldn’t help it.

So he’d cleared his throat and said, “Actually, sir, Miss Weiss is absolutely correct. The dangers of cross-contamination alone present an unreasonable risk.”

Professor Thompson had stared at him. “Mr. Graves,” he’d said, in a tone that suggested that Gawain was twelve and therefore dumb. “Do you even know what cross-contamination means?”

“Contaminating one substance with another,” Gawain had said promptly. “It’s dangerous in a laboratory setting, or with food, if you have allergies. In a laboratory setting - especially a teaching one, like this one - you’ve no idea whether or not who used your workstation last cleaned it as well as they should have, so there’s a risk that your potion might be contaminated with whatever they were working on.”

“No one likes a know it all, Mr. Graves,” Thompson had drawled.

“Sorry, sir,” Gawain had said, obviously not sorry at all. “It’s just, shouldn’t we be taught the principles of lab safety? It’s important.”

Libby had raised her hand. “I’d kind of like to know the principles of lab safety,” she’d said.

“That’s because you’re dangerous,” Atticus Lee had said.

“Exactly,” Libby had said. “If there’s a way for me not to be dangerous in class, I want to know what it is.”

That had made a lot of sense to the rest of the class, and Gawain figured that was as good a time as any to launch into Uncle Robert’s Lab Safety Is Important And Here’s Why speech.

“You gave a twenty minute lecture on lab safety,” Jauncey said, drawing Gawain back into the present. “The other students took notes.”

Gawain rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “I might’ve been quoting Uncle Robert when I said there’d be a quiz.”

“And that just … happened,” said the headmaster.

“Yes?” Gawain ventured.

“Merlin’s beard,” said Jauncey. “It’s Galahad and the dueling club all over again.”

“Hey,” protested Gawain. “I’m not that bad.”

“Forgive me, Mr. Graves, but you and your brother have rather more in common than you think,” the headmaster said.

Rude, thought Gawain. He kept his mouth shut, though. Authority figures rarely wanted to know what you thought of their opinions.

“Please refrain from taking over your professor’s classes in the future,” Jauncey commanded.

“Yes, sir,” said Gawain.

“You will apologize to Professor Thompson,” the headmaster continued.

Since Jauncey didn’t say he had to be sincere, Gawain was willing to meet him halfway.

“Yes, sir,” Gawain said again.

“And you have two weeks of detention,” Jauncey finished.

“Yes, sir,” Gawain said.

Jauncey sighed. “You can go back to class,” he said.

“Thank you, sir,” Gawain said.

“And Gawain?”

Gawain turned back at the door. “Sir?”

“We do, actually, have your safety in mind. I wish you’d trust that.”

If he really had their safety in mind, he’d have taken Gawain and Rosamund’s point and made sure that Professor Thompson didn’t make the students test improperly prepared potions on one another.

Gawain ducked his head, acknowledging the headmaster’s point.

He bet Galahad and Owen would have some ideas about how to deal with Professor Thompson, if the headmaster wouldn’t.

Terrifying wasn’t so bad, when it was on your side. And there was nothing the Graves siblings couldn’t do, as long as they did it together.

#my fic #comment fic #Possible 'verse #The Graves Brood #Gawain Graves #The Graves Brood vs. Ilvermorny

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reinarandwulf · 7 years

Text

Dishonored OC meme

I have too many Dishonored OC and I also need to write my Dishonored Big Bang fic but I want to do this so I chose the least likely OC to appear in my Dishonored Big Bang because why not! Meet the Prime Minister of Gristol!

Name: Hector Russell Age: 52 Gender: Male Height/Build: 187 cm / slender Occupation: Prime Minister of Gristol, leader of a survivors group

Physical Description: When people talked about Lord Prime Minister Russell, they usually talked about his look first then his deeds. He got the face that didn’t belong in a Parliament Chamber. Even in his fifties, he was still a handsome man. Clean shaven, graying brown hair, and a pair of green eyes; the ladies in the court kept batting their eyelashes at him in vain hope to be the woman who finally got the most powerful man in Gristol – besides the Empress – under her thumb.

Short LONG Intro/Bio: The story of Hector Russell and his journey to the seat of parliamentary was an inspiring one. Born from a wealthy merchant and a natural philosopher, Hector was a rebellious child. He was always fighting his seemingly perfect brother and opposed everything his father told him. He longed for a chance to go out from his home and find his own path, so when Morley Insurrection broke out and the army asked brave men and women to join them, Hector saw it as an escape and enlisted.

The war changed him. He learned to listen to his commanding officer and obeyed his orders without question. He learned to hold a weapon, he learned the value of life and death, he learned about suffering. When his commanding officers died on the battlefield, he learned to become a leader. It was the moment when he finally found himself and he realized that he could be more than just the unruly son his family despised. He raised the rank faster than any of his comrades and soon everyone knew about the charismatic Captain Hector Russell.

After the insurrection ended and the soldiers sailed back home, he decided to change his career. While he had no illusion that he could change the world, he still hoped he could make the Empire a better place to live and the only way to achieve that was by having an influence in the government. He approached a wealthy general who took an interest in him during his service and convinced him to be his benefactor. Being a natural born leader and a charismatic man, it took no time for him to make his way into the gruesome world of Gristolan politic. He patiently worked his way up to the Parliamentary Chamber, capturing people’s heart with his smile and genuine word of kindness. No one really expected him to reach the highest seat in the parliament – he was just too compassionate for the position, but his hard work brought him there. He did manage to make the Empire a slightly better place during his two years serving time before Hiram Burrows – the envious Royal Spymaster who dreamed of taking the power from Jessamine - took him down from the shadow.

When the plague struck Dunwall, Burrows used the chance to spread a false rumor that said one of his maids was infected with the plague and Hector was hiding her in his home. The rumor spread like wildfire and soon the parliament demanded an official investigation on his home. The investigation team didn’t found the ‘infected’ maid but they found a nest of plague rats – planted by Burrows - and it was enough to condemn Hector. People started wondering if he got infected as well from having those rats in his home. It didn’t take long for him to lose everything; his position, his wealth, and his home.

Cast out and left to an imaginable fate, he met others who suffered the same fate like himself. Together with the other survivors and also the household staffs from his home, they made a community in the sewer, far away from those who betrayed them.

DETAILS 1. What do they think of the Outsider? As someone who believed in no supernatural thing and any deity, Hector thought the Outsider merely as a story told to inflict fear and terror. At one point of his life, he believed the Outsider was created by the Abbey to gain control over the people. But after he saw a rune and a bone charm during the plague, he started to think that maybe the Outsider truly existed.

2. What about the Abbey? Although he smiled as he shook hands with High Overseer Campbell, there wasn’t any scrap of sympathy he had for the Abbey. He saw them as a bunch of zealots who would resort to violence in their war against something that didn’t even matter. His antipathy grew stronger during the plague. Watching the overseers brutally enforced their ideology disgusted him.

3. What do they think of Empress Jessamine vs Hiram Burrows? He couldn’t fathom the reason behind Burrows’ antagonistic nature towards Jessamine. Sure, Jessamine had her flaws but who didn’t? Even he himself had flaws. Jessamine was doing a good job being a firm and respectable leader to the whole Empire of the Isles. She had people to help her, she had him to manage Gristol. Burrows was just being unnecessarily petty. Why would a spymaster want to get his hand in politics? There was no room in the parliament for a spymaster, they had too many scheming nobles to fill his part. Needless to say, Hector was a true Kadwin supporter and the empress supported him back. He wasn’t aware Burrows was plotting to take him down because he was the biggest

4. Where do they live in Dunwall? Before the plague, he lived in the Estate District. He owned a small but comfortable house with a small team of servants who adored him. He refused to move from his humble home to bigger and lavish manor when he became the Prime Minister even though it raised some critics from the snobbish aristocrats that claimed a man of his status should have the most beautiful manor in the Estate District.

After his fall from grace, he lived in the sewer with other survivors and tried to keep them alive.

5. How have they been handling the plague? For someone who falsely accused to be infected by the plague and was forced to live in a sewer, he handled it well. He became the leader of the survivors in the sewer. He gave a rousing speech to keep their spirit, helped to manage food and elixirs.

6. Are they in a relationship? If so, with whom? Hector dedicated his life to his work so he had no time for romance - or at least that was what he’d been telling the press. The truth was more complicated than that. He didn’t feel the urge to be intimate romantically or sexually with anyone. Though he found women to be sexually arousing in some occasion, it still wasn’t enough to make him want to spend a night with someone. He only slept with two women in all his life. One was a courtesan he hired when he was young and curious about sex. The other was a visiting dignitary from Tyvia he met in his late thirties, a noble woman with sharp wit and teasing smiles. It was a short timed affair since the woman was married and he was busy with his work, but it was the closest to having a lover whom he didn’t mind sharing his bed with. He wasn’t keen to repeat the experience. He wasn’t sure he would meet someone as fascinating as her again.

7. Do they have a connection to any canon characters? He was a close ally to Jessamine. They liked each other and valued each other’s opinions. Jessamine might have a little bit of a crush on Hector because he could just be so dreamy without him realizing it.

YOUR OC AS NPC 1. What would the Heart say about them? - He was loved by many small people but despised by the power hungry politicians - He dreamed of making the Empire a better place. If only he got more time. - People compared him his older brother when he was a child. Now they compared his brother to him. - The survivors look at him as a shining beacon of hope and he draws his strength from them. - He was a close ally to her… The Empress… Do you remember him smiling at me?

2. Where could they be found in the game? In the sewer beneath the Old Port District. It’s the place where the player encounters a group of survivors during The Flooded District (mission).

3. Lines they would say when idle/not on alert: - The foods are becoming scarce. Even the rats are harder to find. - *sigh* there’s no use in complaining, we have to survive together. - [low chaos] We have to keep our spirit and never lose our hope. Someone will find the cure to the plague and we will go back to our life. - [high chaos] What would become of this world? There’s no hope to be found anymore.

4. Lines they would say when reacting to the player: - [seeing the player using the power] Is that… No, it can’t be… - You seem… familiar. Do I know you? - [if the player strikes a deal with him] You’ve helped us tremendously, masked one. My thanks won’t suffice to pay back what you’ve done for us. - [if the player doesn’t strike a deal with him] It’s the time of great misery, masked one. I don’t blame you for your decision. You have done us a great favor by killing those weepers.

5. Would there be any rewards, consequences, or special events dependent on your character? When you entered the survivor camp in the sewer, you’ll see weepers – three in low chaos and five in high chaos – attacking a group of survivors. Hector will be there to fight the weepers. Help him and he will thank you and give you a bone charm. After that, he offers you to trade 3 Sokolov's elixirs for a rune. He will explain that it’s hard to find a potion these days and he needs it for the survivor. If you fail to save him and he’s dead, you can’t strike the deal with him but you can still loot the rune and the bone charm from his body. If you refuse to strike a deal with him, you have to kill him in order to get the rune.

FATE IN LOW CHAOS: He guides the healthy survivors back to the society and helps the infected ones to get the treatment from Sokolov and Piero. When asked to be the Prime Minister again, he declined and took a fully deserved retirement to Poolwick.

FATE IN HIGH CHAOS: The weepers attacked the survivor camps in the sewer. Being old and a bit frail, he couldn’t escape the attack and got bitten and became a weeper.

#dishonored #dishonored oc meme #all the ocs #i'm writing something

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scarletjedi · 7 years

Text

Song+Ship=Fic prompt fill

@fishonthetree asked for “The Fires I Started” by Unwoman and any tolkien pariring--so I went with Bagginshield.

it’s sad, because that ship can be made of pain, but hopeful, too I guess.

“I will end here listening

To the sound of my own breathing

To my many accomplishments

Though you never heard what I meant

I will leave your memory

To those who see you clearly

I will not carve you into song

I tell everyone's story wrong”

Bilbo had been back in the Shire for three years, six months, eleven days, and a score of hours when he woke to a rain that came down in buckets.

“Goodness me,” he muttered to himself, wrapping his patchwork dressing gown around his sleep shift as he peered out the window. Fall, it seemed, had arrived and the rain was not helping the chill of the morning. “It’s raining to wake the Rock Giants.”

And Bilbo paused. “Rock Giants,” he said, remembering the cold of the slick stone beneath his feet, the crash of thunder, and the way the lightning had lit the world bright as day for only a moment. He shivered, and went to put on tea.

Bustling about his kitchen, Bilbo set the kettle to boil and primed the pot with a darling blend that he had received as a parting gift from Lord Elrond, who had quite honored Bilbo by indulging him in a lengthy discussion about the merits of bergamot vs cinnamon in a black tea. It was the best tea Bilbo owned, and one he was reluctant to put out for visitors, save for his darling cousin Primula Brandybuck, who at nineteen, was already promising to be a very interesting relation. (Primula, you see, was often to be seen with Drogo Baggins. The dears were beginning to court, you see, and Bilbo was just enough of a romantic to help them along, so to speak. (It didn’t hurt that they had nothing to do with that dreadful auction, and treated him no differently for all the rumors of gold that were whispered around town. There was, in fact, a chest of gold, that had been buried in the troll hoard, but Bilbo had put that aside for a rainy day.

Bilbo had set out a pair of the scones he had made the night before, his pad of butter, the cream, and a little pot of honey (also a gift, from Beorn, this time. It was simply the best honey in the world), by the time the kettle whistled, and Bilbo set his tea to steeping.

He had only just sat down, ready to eat, when there was a knocking at the door.

Bilbo froze--had it been the wind? If it was company, they would knock again, but it was unlikely. No one would be out and about in this weather.

(Unless they had already traveled a long way without shelter, and this rain was not the worst they had faced, for even the hardest of Shire rains were nothing compared to rains on the mountain).

“Coming,” Bilbo called out, but something had stolen his voice and it came out in less than a whisper.

The knock came again, and Bilbo cried out, “Coming!” and ran to the door. He threw it open--

And there was nobody there, just a bit of branch that had snapped from his tree and was blowing in the winds. Bilbo knew that he should close the door, that his papers and books were getting all sort of blown about in the winds, that his front entryway was getting soaking wet from the driving rain--that he, himself, would soon be soaked--

But Bilbo couldn’t look away from where the grey stormclouds in the sky met the black shadows of the woods away on the horizon. That way lay Rivendell, and the mountains, and the dark Forest, and at last--Erebor. Bilbo’s heart ached, and he was filled with the sudden urge to step from his door, dressed only in his gown, and go running back, over hill and under tree, through lands where never light has shone, by silver streams that run down to the sea, to find, at last--

Bilbo stepped back. He closed the door. He leaned against it, and, pressing his hand to his mouth, he cried until his tears ran dry.

***

Seven years, eight months, and four days after Bilbo returned from the dead, Bilbo was walking in the market, looking at the wares. Hobbit made crafts were good, sturdy things, with pleasant, flowering designs, nothing at all like dwarven--

Bilbo put down the box he was holding, and went home.

***

Twenty-Seven years, two months, and five days since Bilbo returned home, he finally opened the Troll chest, as a wedding gift to Primula and Drogo.

Twenty-Seven years, three months, and twelve days since Bilbo fought Lobelia for his own teaspoons, Frodo Baggins was born.

Thirty-Nine years and eight months even after Bilbo returned, at last, heart-sick and weary, he brought home Frodo Baggins, pale and sad and a shadow of his former self.

Bilbo showed Frodo to his room, and put the kettle on.

***

Forty years to the day after Bilbo had stormed down Bagshot Row to declare himself officially not dead, Bilbo opened his study door. He had a cup of the tea blend Glorfindel preferred, acquired on his last visit to Rivendell, and three of the poppyseed cookies he had made earlier that day, to fortify him to answer the small pile of letters that had piled up.

But, when he went to fill his pen, he found the top had been left off his ink-pot, and the little that had been left at the bottom had turned into a sticky, gummy mess. Bilbo sighed--this ink never truly came back from that. He sighed. “Frodo,” he muttered, shaking his head. His nephew was finally starting to come out of his shell, and it was good to see, but Frodo was more of a

He did, however, have more ink powders somewhere, if he could only...Bilbo stood, hand on his hips as he looked around, trying to remember where he had put those powders. He started shifting books and stacks of papers, looking for that box that he just knew--

A leather book fell from where it had shifted, over the years, spilling scraps of scribbled writing, stained with grass and dirt and mud and what else, and Bilbo froze--a single piece of paper fluttered onto his feet; a drawing of himself as a younger hobbit, a gift from young Ori. With shaking hands, he lifted the drawing, and had to blink to see.

Ori had drawn the picture in Erebor, after everything. Bilbo wasn’t entirely sure why Ori had drawn him smiling, or how he could--Bilbo did not think he truly smiled for weeks after...

Taking a deep breath, Bilbo placed the picture on his desk, and bent to gather the loose pieces of paper. He would stop, from time to time, and read a sentence, a passage, and found himself thinking fondly of what had been the most painful and difficult year of his life.

He thought about Beorn, and being called a little bunny. He thought of his first meeting with Lord Elrond, and how Bilbo had been quite sure he had insulted Elrond until he had been told he would always be welcome. He remembered an unexpected party that had cleaned out his larders, and the singing that had made his heart swell and race.

He remembered Dori’s fussing over Ori and Nori, who had taken something from every place they paused. He remembered Gloin’s bluster and Oin’s bad hearing. He remembered Bofur’s laugh, and Bombur’s smile, and Bifur’s flowers. He remembered Balin’s twinkle, and Dwalin’s sweet tooth.

He remembered Fili and Kili and their love of song and dance.

He remembered Thorin, and for the first time in years, remembered more joy than pain.

He remembered Thorin’s poor sense of direction, the strength of his singing and the clarity of his harp. He remembered the way his words could move you, and the way he wielded his sword with deadly grace. He remembered the way he laughed, hidden, like a child sneaking a sweet they weren’t supposed to have.

Bilbo placed his notes on his desk, and stood, wish his hands on the leather cover, thinking perhaps it was time to begin thinking about writing his memoirs.

Yes...yes, he would call it There and Back Again: A Hobbit’s Holiday. It would make for a rather good children’s story, he should think, if he left out the harder, more emotionally messy bits. Nobody in Hobbiton ever liked to read the harder bits, anyway (Deep down, Bilbo thought of those bits as his, and perhaps Bilbo had spent too long around dragon gold as it was, because he was not inclined to share them. Not with Frodo, not with anyone).

Now, if only he could find that ink.

#lotr #hobbit #bagginshield #fic meme

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renaroo · 7 years

Text

Recovery None (56/61)

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Language, Canon-typically violence, Psychological torture & manipulation, Mentions of gore, Character death, Minor Sexual content Pairings: Yorkalina, Chex Rating: T Synopsis: [Canon Divergence AU] When the Mother of Invention crashed, Project Freelancer was in shambles, its surviving agents scattered, its equipment stolen, and an impending investigation into the crash from the UNSC was on the horizon. To regain control of the deeply corrupted program, the Director established a new unit from his remaining supplies – the Recovery Unit.

Three former Freelancers were chosen for particular tasks: Zero is to hunt down and destroy the Meta, One is to investigate and recover stolen or missing equipment, and Two is to take down AWOL former agents.

Of course, no one’s motivations are what they seem…

A/N: I’m gonna go ahead and warn you, this chapter is SCHMULTZZZZZZYYYYYYYYY to the max and that’s not even counting the smut. The hilarious, couldn’t write with a straight face even if I’m hoping you all can read it as melodrama smut. Man this fic is all over the place. AND ONLY FIVE CHAPTERS TO GO OH MY GOSH

Special thanks to @analiarvb, @secretlystephaniebrown, @freshzombiewriter, @notatroll7, @washingtonstub, @every-survival, Yin, TheMightyLorax, MewtheConquerer, Linni, Bluebird202, irismon, Shinji09, Meep, and @a-taller-tale for the feedback!

Recovery One XVII: A Unified Front

Tex resisted the urge with everything within herself to let out a long suffering sigh as she stepped through the transporter and, once again, found herself standing in a foot of snow.

Instead, she settled on a long, drawn out, “Goddammit.”

Which was about as much emotion as her frayed nerves could have handled at that point considering that they were one, made of actual electricity, two, dealing with a lot of bullshit that day in particular, and three, not anywhere near Church by the sight of things.

Carolina appeared behind her and looked more surprised than angry at the circumstances. She immediately turned back and tilted her head at the device behind them.

“Okay,” Epsilon whined, appearing over Carolina’s shoulder, “who sets up a transporter in the middle of the arctic for jollies?”

When Carolina gave him a glance, he raised his sprite’s hands.

“It’s an important question, alright? Maybe not the most important question of the evening, but it’s pretty high up there,” Epsilon defended.

“The most important being where’s the Director,” Carolina reminded him, turning back toward Tex.

Not moving, Tex leered at them both. “The most important being finding Church and that knucklehead Caboose before they get themselves killed.”

“Wait wait wait,” Epsilon demanded, crossing his arms. “What the fuck kind of name is Caboose?”

With a shrug, Carolina looked toward Epsilon. “I’ve heard it before,” she said.

“No fucking way,” he snapped. “From who? Who else could possibly have a name as ridiculous as Caboose--”

Ignoring them, Tex began leading the group forward. “No one placed the transporter in the middle of nowhere,” she informed them lowly.

"Uh, obviously they did, we just went through it!” Epsilon replied testily, waving toward the transporter as he and Carolina caught up.

“What is it?” Carolina asked instead just before the completed the turn around the mountainside. She then came to a stop and dropped her shoulders, looking up to the very monument that Tex had been expecting to see on the other side.

Tex came to a stop herself and scowled at the massive, broken open and exposed hull.

“Whoa...” Epsilon whispered. “Is... Is that...?”

Carolina stepped closer. “It’s the Mother of Invention,” she answered. “I haven’t seen it... I haven’t seen it since the crash.”

The crash that Tex had caused, of course.

“That transporter was cargo that flung out in the crash. I’m sure there’s a lot of that, along with unrecovered weapons and debris throughout this area,” Tex announced, looking toward the ship. By the time she tagged the signs she wanted and looked back to Carolina, the former Freelancer mission leader was looking at the cliffs with Epsilon silently standing by her shoulder.

“Guess I should be considered lucky that they didn’t leave me with the rest of the trash in the snow,” Carolina said bitterly. “Guess I hadn’t been broken just enough to lose interest in.”

There weren’t words for what Carolina was feeling, what she was going through. Tex knew that.

At the end of the day, she had binary to hide behind, pretending those inexplicable feelings of needing approval and hating and loving what was never real, what was never there, could be sorted away and filed as something else entirely.

In Carolina, though, for the first time, Tex knew that those inexplicable, breakable feelings were precisely what made them not only human, but the same. What made them almost sisters of sorts.

"Hey,” Tex called out to her, drawing Carolina’s attention from the ship. Tex narrowed her eyes and clenched her fists. “I know you don’t think much of me, but if there’s any bit of you that values what I might have to say, let it hear this out. You are not trash. You are not disposable. You’re not even the slightest bit wrong. You’re the best the military could have ever dreamed of training, and this fucker tried to take that all from you for his own gain. Not only do you not owe him shit, but he doesn’t deserve your fucks.”

“Stop talking about him like--” Carolina snapped before catching herself. She placed her helmet against her palm and gave a long breath. “Like you know him. Like you knew him before all of this.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tex said simply. “Anyone who can make someone like you feel like trash is the only real garbage here to me.”

When Carolina looked up to Tex, Epsilon was joining her, almost reluctantly.

“I mean that for everyone,” Tex confirmed. She then shoved forward toward the ship. “Now c’mon. We all have more than enough to feel sorry for ourselves or guilty over these days. I don’t see any point in trying to add more to it when we obviously have other shit to do.”

Carolina seemed reluctant, but she pulled out her electric batons and followed Tex. “Alright then,” she answered.

By the time they got to the haul, Tex couldn’t help but run her hands against the twisted, interrupted metal and glass.

She stared at the ship for a moment, just a moment, to reflect on how the damage was all a result of her crash. The crash she had started.

There was a lot of damage, a lot of death, done to a lot of people that were just cogs in the machine. Like her. Like Carolina. Even lower on the totem pole.

“Find something?” Carolina asked as she came up from behind Tex.

Tex glanced toward her and then continued on into the ship. “A way in,” she answered simply.

They walked across the frozen metal, mindful of ice pockets and of the slight confusion of walking on walls and ceilings as they navigated the twisted ship.

After seemingly forever, there was a low, echoing voice.

The women glanced to each other and then armed themselves, readied for a fight as they neared the source of the echo, hearing the words more and more clearly.

“And I make your life-a-living heaven. We do everything together, like hide-and-don’t-seek, your favorite game. And I’m so glad that we found each other and I know you feel the identical-way-as-me! Church, I’m your best friend, that’s what I am to you--”

Tex paused and held up her hand to have Carolina follow suit, standing up with disbelief. “Wait,” she ordered. “That’s Caboose.”

“Again, I just can’t believe that’s a real name,” Epsilon whined.

“Why is he singing?” Carolina asked.

“What’d I tell you about asking questions involving these guys?” Tex said back, giving Carolina a look.

“Right,” Carolina replied in a long drawl before moving forward, turning the electricity down for her batons, but not putting them out.

“Tex didn’t completely follow suit, still holding onto her gun as she walked toward the source of the voice and found herself face to face with a familiar old friend.

“Why, Agent Texas!!!” Caboose cried out. “I wasn’t expecting you here! Church said I had to stop bad people from coming, he didn’t mention anything about good people!”

Tex tilted her head. “Bad people?”

“You think Tex is a good person?” Carolina asked critically.

Both Caboose and Tex looked at Carolina after the outburst.

Embarrassed, Carolina held up her hands and shook her head. “Sorry, sorry. My bad. It’s... Old habits die hard and all that. C-continue with whatever you two are doing. Friendship and reunions and all that.”

Carolina looked back to Caboose with concern. “What else did Church say, Caboose? We need to find him.”

“Why? He’s not lost, he said he remembered everything and knew his way,” Caboose questioned, scratching at his helmet.

“Those aren’t good things,” Tex tried to explain.

“Hey, wait up,” Epsilon said, appearing over Carolina’s shoulder again.

“Epsilon!” Tex snapped.

“No, this deserves some questions,” he argued. “Like how does it make sense that the Alpha remembers shit if I’m his memories? Like what’s that supposed to mean for me? It’s giving me an existential crisis just thinking about it--”

“Please don’t have an existential crisis inside my head,” Carolina deadpanned. “I have enough of those in a week without your assistance.”

Caboose was literally vibrating beside Texas, his whole body was blurring from the shaking. “Church! We found you! And you are so very tiny!!! I will find tiny crackers and feed them to you!!!”

"Okay, this is getting to be a little much,” Epsilon said flatly.

“Aw, you always say that, Church, but you never mean it!” Caboose replied, reaching for the sprite and watching in wonder as Epsilon’s projection was interrupted.

“Hey! Hey! Stop--” Epsilon disappeared and then reappeared on Carolina’s other shoulder. “Don’t do that. It’s annoying!” He looked up to Carolina. “Can’t you help an AI out?”

“And miss where this goes?” Carolina asked in amusement.

“A... I?” Caboose asked.

Knowing where that conversation was about to go, Tex snapped her fingers rapidly and got Caboose’s attention. He looked at her somewhat bewildered. “Caboose, I need you to focus for a moment. Church -- the real Church --”

“Hey!”

“You’ve got to tell me which way he went. It’s very important that I find him and help him, okay?” she said with as much emphasis as she could muster without resorting to casual threats.

“But Church told me to make sure no one followed him,” Caboose said, oddly wary of Tex. For a moment, she thought they weren’t going to get anywhere, but as quickly as he built the tension, Caboose cut through it like a knife and tilted his head. “He went that way!”

“Thanks, Caboose,” Tex said before looking to Carolina. “I need you and Epsilon to stand guard with Caboose.”

“What? No. That’s not what we agreed to when we started this,” Carolina snapped. “I want the Director, and that’s the only reason we’re working together to begin with--”

“And the Director likes to slip out during distractions,” Tex snapped back. She vented and shook her head before trying a more calm tone. “Listen, Carolina... Finding Church... dealing with how he’s going to be right now? Returning here? It’s going to be very distracting for me. I remember why we agreed to work together, do you remember why we’re working together on my end?”

She nodded. “Alright. But you take too long, I’m not going to let you keep the glory to yourself.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Tex replied.

Caboose looked back and forth between the women before waving his hand through Epsilon again.

“Hey! I said stop that!” Epsilon near-screamed.

Tex moved forward in the direction that Caboose had pointed out to her.

It was a long winding hall, and with the way the ship was torqued and not upright, it was difficult to precisely remember what hall led where on the ship. As her own agent, Tex had never had the luxury of investigating the ship much.

And before she was independent, well, that was fuzzy.

All of it but one part.

The familiar pulse of the Alpha -- of Church -- was growing stronger the further she went. But though it led her through the twists and turns, soon enough it brought her to a closed door.

There would have been nothing in it to punch through the door, no matter how reinforced it was. But the door was electronically shut and locked.

Church had closed other people out. And Tex was tired of people barging in where Church felt safe without permission.

“Church,” she called past the door. “It’s me. You can let me in. Or you can not. And in the latter case I’ll just sit out here. And I’ll get annoyed, because I’m impatient and hate being put off. But I’ll wait the whole time all the same.”

For a moment, there was no reaction, and a part of Tex couldn’t help but feel foolish about the whole thing--

Then the door began to open, along with all the ones after it. Her path, with each step she took, turned on the low level lights of the hall and they turned off behind her.

If she had a heart, Tex knew it would be pounding.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself. “Okay. We’ll just take it as it comes.”

"Why are you here!?” Washington demanded.

“Um, I’m on Red Team?” York answered, hands up.

South gave Wash a dead even stare, arms defiantly crossed. “I’m a bodyguard.”

Washington could feel his eye twitching but he couldn’t deal with that at the moment because his teammates, his former teammates, were standing in front of him. In Blood Gulch. In Red Base.

There were hardly words that could express the headache he was experiencing even trying to process everything.

“Those answers aren’t good enough,” Wash warned, cocking his gun for emphasis as he narrowed his eyes on the two of them.

“Well, tough tits, they’re the ones you get,” South snapped back.

York looked over his shoulder and looked somewhat aghast toward her. “Do you have a death wish or something? Fucking hell.” He then turned back to face Wash and forced a smile. “Wash, buddy. Oh my god, I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you! You look... Uh. Well that armor’s kinda shitty. But I mean. Look at me. I’m one to talk, right?”

Unimpressed, Wash kept his gun up.

Simmons began sliding toward where the Reds were but Wash couldn’t let that pass either.

“Simmons!” he growled out. “Why didn’t you tell me who the new Reds you were talking about were?”

“Ah!” Simmons screamed, nearly leaping out of his armor. “I didn’t know who they were! I didn’t stay long enough to learn names or anything! I definitely didn’t think you know them.”

“Knew,” Wash corrected darkly.

“Oh, wah,” South scoffed.

“Jesus, woman,” York snapped at her. “Look, Wash, you have permission to shoot her if you want. I would actually feel much better. But let’s reconsider things before putting another hole in me at least. I’ve got my share, I promise you.”

“I don’t think you understand yet how little your promises mean to me, York,” Washington said plainly.

Giving a full body flinch, York seemed like Washington had gone ahead and shot him. “Wash... ouch. I mean... I’m sure things from your side of the binoculars look... unfavorable toward all of us--”

“It does,” Wash confirmed.

"Okay, wow, you’re super pissed,” York marveled. “That’s okay, we can talk through this--”

“No, we can’t,” Wash cut him short. “You’ve not been in the canyon long enough to go that route.”

“What?” York asked.

“What?” South followed closely behind him.

“Wait. Shut up. Ignore that, I don’t know why I said it,” Wash ordered.

“Uh, because he’s fucking crazy,” Grif stage whispered toward his fellow Reds.

“I’m not crazy. Nor deaf,” Wash snapped. “I’m holding former colleagues at gunpoint in fear that they’re double agents and will be doing the same or worse to me the moment I take my sights off of them.”

“Good call,” South said flatly.

“I’m going to die because of you, so while I can, I want to make it very clear, I have always fucking hated you and the fact that we were at semi-peace before it all ended is kinda going to haunt me to my grave,” York told South.

“Honestly, the only reason I’m antagonizing is in hopes he does shoot you out of his obvious paranoia-driven breakdown,” South explained. “I feel like that would make my death worth it.”

Washington, despite himself, felt a swell of nostalgia bubble up in his chest from the MOI. The competetiveness, the need to suck the air out of the room, the antagonism. It was... Oddly familiar and comforting to the point that he let out a laugh.

That grabbed York and South’s attentions as they looked to him.

Wash coughed to cover for himself clumsily and reaimed. “I still need answers.”

“Dude, you got them,” Grif said, waving toward York and South. “He’s on Red Team, she’s body guarding for my baby sister. What the actual fuck are you hoping to get out of them now?”

Looking to the Reds, Wash opened his mouth in shock. “You... Just accepted some random Freelancer you don’t know onto your team? And you didn’t consult me?”

“Of course not, ya dirty Blue!” Sarge howled. “We need the advantage! And Blue Team’s had you Freelancers crawling out of their bee-hinds since the start of this whole mess in Timeline A--”

“I swear to god, if you make me explain that this isn’t an alternate future one more time I’ll take myself out,” Wash said humorlessly.

“Prove it,” South antagonized.

Washington narrowed his eyes at them and did his best to ignore that the Reds were even a factor.

It was back to Freelancer problems, just like it had always been.

Unfortunately, Red Team was very bad at making itself known and Donut, of all people, stepped right between Washington and his former teammates.

“Donut, get out of the way,” Wash ordered.

“So you can kill a fellow Red in front of me again? For no good reason?” Donut asked, crossing his arms.

It had been a while since Wash had seen anyone outside of their armors, and seeing Donut without his helmet -- seeing the damage to the side of his face -- reminded him of the other victims of Freelancer.

The ones beside himself.

Still, it was too risky. “He’s not a Red,” he tried to plea with Donut.

“He? What about her? Why is it he? How am I the one you’re debating shooting when South is right there?” York demanded.

“It’s almost like your charm is actually nonexistent or something,” South said with a raise of her eyebrow.

“That’s grossly untrue and we all know it. Back me up here, Wash. If you only shot one of us, it’d be South, wouldn’t it? Just think about it. I mean like really think about it.”

“If I had only one bullet I’d line the two of you up,” Washington retorted.

“Jesus christ, you’re brutal,” York marveled. “Why did I try to save you again?”

The twitch came back to Washington’s eye, only it was even less ignoreable than it had been the time before. “Tried to save me!?” he cried out. “You blew up the ship I was on and left me in the rubble to be found by Freelancer again!”

York’s mouth opened and then shut.

South raised her brows more. “Interesting.”

Distracted, York pointed an accusatory finger at her. “You are literally such a bitch, you know that? I’m still certain that everything right now is your fault at the end of the day if we can roll back the tapes enough--”

“You say I’m responsible for things one more time, I’ll kill you before Wash grows the balls to,” South warned.

“Ooohhhh,” Red Team harmonized.

“You’re sticking your neck out for this?” Wash asked Donut.

Donut looked back toward the two Freelancers and hummed a bit before looking back. “Okay, honestly just York. Tan is totally a Red color. Unlike Yellow.” He gasped and covered his mouth. “Your stripe!!! How didn’t we see it all along?”

“See what? That he looks like a goddamn road divider?” South asked critically.

“You are terrible at being in a hostage situation,” Wash informed South.

“I’ve had lots of practice with it lately,” she replied dryly.

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” York snapped. “Carolina told me about how you were a Recovery Agent--”

Wash dropped his sights. “What?”

York looked back. “Oh, shit. You didn’t know--”

Feeling literally winded, Wash stepped back. “Carolina... Why does she know about the Recovery Agents? She’s-- You two have been together since...” He whirled around on South. “You were involved with Recovery!? And Niner--”

“Holy fuck,” Grif wheezed. “Let’s slip out the back, he’s getting kinda... mindbreaky--”

“Mindbreaky, Grif? Really?” Simmons asked critically.

“We’re going nowhere! It’s about time a Blue was put in their place in front of me! Everyone’s ordered to stay and watch. It’ll boost team morale!” Sarge ordered.

“Wait, he’s a Blue like me?” the weird girl who threw the beer can asked.

Washington threw his rifle back over his back and turned to leave, eyes tightly closed. He was so -- so fucking angry -- he couldn’t handle it. And he couldn’t shoot them still, South was right. At least, not with Donut there watching him like that, with his face scarred like that--

“Every fucking person I knew left me when I needed them,” he said simply. “Every fucking person knew I needed help and they left me to straighten out Recovery and Freelancer and all this shit on my own.”

York was following him, like an idiot. Like Washington hadn’t been fully ready to shoot him right then and there. “Wash, it isn’t like that. I don’t know the whole story for everyone but it’s not the whole story for me. Not by a long shot.”

Stopping, Wash glared over his shoulder just enough to stop York in his tracks. “I don’t care about your story. Your story has nothing to do with me.”

“You’re wrong, it has everything to do with you -- with everyone,” York replied. “Wash, I know you have to hurt right now but--”

“York, you don’t know a goddamn thing about me right now,” Wash snapped. “In fact, you never did. I was just the stupid, lucky rookie who got into the top tier as a fluke, remember?”

“No--” York began to try and argue.

“Your words,” Wash reminded him. “Yours and North’s. While I spent the past year and a half, alone, trying to figure out how everyone else had abandoned the project and me, I got to think about words a lot.”

“I didn’t... We never meant...” York stopped and shook his head before holding up his hands. “Can we take a moment to talk?”

“My moments are all spent up,” Wash snapped. “I have people who need me right now--”

“People? What people? Everyone okay at Blue Base?” Donut asked worriedly.

“Why the fuck do we care?” Grif asked.

“I care! Wait, this isn’t Blue Base?” the girl asked beside him.

“Tucker’s sick, hold on,” Wash said, looking at the message sent directly to his HUD. “Sheila just sent me... No, it’s from Sheila but it doesn’t sound like her at all. Someone’s sending me an update through Sheila. And it... makes no sense.”

“Oh, shocking,” Grif replied. “Something not making sense in this goddamn canyon. Everyone hold their surprise.”

“What’s it say about Tucker?” Simmons asked.

“And is he hot?” the girl asked. “And this Sheila? Is she hot?”

Washington just stared dumbly at his HUD.

“Uh... Wash, buddy?” York asked worriedly. “Everything alright up there--”

“Someone at Blue Base found Doc and invited him over because they couldn’t wait any longer,” he said flatly.

“Oh my god,” Donut said.

“They said the baby was coming either way,” he continued with absolutely no emotion in his voice.

“Oh, Tucker’s a she-Tucker?” the girl asked. “Is she hot?”

“Tucker is not a she,” Wash clarified.

Everyone went silent.

“What the fuck were you two doing in the desert?” Grif broke the silence.

She had forgotten how deep the ship went, how long its halls stretched, but following the lighting trail toward Church gave her a decent reminder. One that Tex, really, could have done without after all the years she had spent running away from what had happened there.

Toward the end, she had sped herself up from a hesitant walk to a brisk jog, ready to find Church and be done with everything there.

And he impatience was rewarded with a soft, blue glow pulsing from a room at the heart of the ship.

Tex stopped herself, feeling inexplicably angered and frightened. She knew that room. That office. That lab.

“Dammit,” she hissed to herself before rushing forward and reaching the room’s entrance.

He was there.

Church stood in the middle of the room, in the midst of a number of monitors and a control panel. There were blue lights pulsing with information and power around the walls, expelling outward from the station where Church stood, his hands motionless on the panels, but his HUD lit with binary speeding by fast enough that even Tex was having a hard time keeping up with it.

“Oh, Church,” she uttered lowly, stepping into the room.

Almost immediately, the robotic body’s head turned toward Tex and she stood by as he eerily evaluated her with his face full of code.

“This is my ship,” he announced, his voice seeping with anger.

When Tex didn’t have a response for that, Church turned back toward the panels and hunched over it more. He was nearly shaking. “I was so good at running my ship. At taking care of my ship. I did everything right. I evaluated everyone in the program. Even when I disagreed, I... I trusted. I trusted he knew what was best. What an idiot. What a fucking idiot! I should have known. I should have been able to predict what he wanted to do--”

Thinking fast, Tex stepped closer. “I’m glad you’re beating yourself up already,” she announced.

Church hesitated an turned his head enough to look Tex’s way. “What?”

“I said I’m glad you’re beating yourself up already,” she repeated, easing closer to the platform where Church stood. “It saves me the time of kicking your ass. Scaring me like this -- running off, getting caught by the enemy, running after a worse enemy, shoving bad shit in your head from this ship without even thinking about it. Those are a lot of offenses, Church. If you don’t get back to beating yourself up some more I’ll have to step in and do it for you.”

His binary sped up all around them. “Are you-- How dare you-- How can you say that it was my fault for not knowing what an unthinkable bastard he really was!?”

Tex stood by Church, towering over him. “Hey, now. I gave you a whole list of offenses you’ve made recently, didn’t I? And I didn’t once mention that on my list, did I?”

He turned to face her. “He... He took you away from me. He took you away and then he took away everything from me. I didn’t do anything wrong. I did the best thing I’ve ever done in my whole goddamn existence. I found you. I found you like it was the only thing I had ever been meant to do. And I was happy. And those were worth my life. Those were worth my loyalty. Why!?”

She stared straight back at him. “I don’t know why,” she said. “I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember, or you never fucking cared?” Church demanded.

“Hey, fuck off with the accusations,” Tex defended. “Do I have to remind you that you’re not the only one who suffered here? Do I have to tell you that you’re not the only one they tormented? That they used? That they lied to? Because you aren’t. You aren’t the only--”

“I am the victim!” he spat out venomously. “And you’re the reason why!”

"Church--” Tex tried to say warningly, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“You’re the reason why and you don’t even remember and it’s not my fault, you were there. You were always there, I didn’t make you, I just did the only thing I could -- I...” he stopped ranting, the information pulsing out from him stopping, the streams of data halting visibly around them. “I didn’t make you. I just accepted you were always going to be a part of who I was.”

“And they didn’t understand that,” Tex filled in, a faint realization dawning on her. “They didn’t understand what we were. What the others couldn’t be.”

“I wasn’t whole without you, Tex,” Church said softly.

“I...” Tex stopped herself. She had to be truthful. “We both are who we are, now, Church. No matter what they stripped from us. Maybe because what they stripped from us. We’re born out of the choice we made to keep moving forward. To keep renewing ourselves. They wanted to create life. We just wanted to live it. We won.”

“We won?” he asked.

“Yes,” Tex said, pointing toward the security monitors. “I know you’re wired into the security, Church. I know you can see that there are people waiting on us -- people that wouldn’t be there for us if we were just shadows of someone else. If we hadn’t grown to be our own people. We’re different. We’re real.”

He looked her up and down. “Tex?” he asked lowly.

“What, Church?” she asked back, only to be surprised when he reached a hand out to her -- but not the physical hand of his robotic body. It was a projection, data -- it was himself.

“We’re not them... but are we still... can we still...?”

Be together? Be human? Be ourselves? Be apart? Be one? Be whole? Be ruined?

Could they still...?

There was a hum across her body.

All that time and Tex had been right beside Church, taking every step along the way with him since reuniting in Blood Gulch, but it was the first time -- it was the first time he truly was the Alpha.

Slowly, doing the same, she reached forward and pressed into his offered hand.

It was like static, small fireworks between fingertips. All the pieces weren’t there, but it was still familiar. The closer they moved together, the further they were from their robotic restraints, the more a flow of information flowed between them. It was as if the numbers that had been left vacant between them were finally being filled.

“Ah,” Tex couldn’t help but moan out as the collision of information went faster. She could feel parts of her moving through Church, and in return he was moving through her. There was an incomprehenisble noise from as well, and it moved freely.

There was nothing physical, technically their bodies were still three feet from each other. But in that moment, like blazing stars beyond the threshold of space, they existed outside of it all, in one moment Tex felt a shuttering awe take over.

This was what it felt like to be whole. This was what it felt like to be more than human.

A wave of euphoria disappeared and it was then that Tex realized there was something wrong.

“Church?” she asked lowly, finding herself returning to her robotic body. She looked through its optics, checked the range of motion in her arms and hands again. “What--”

You really are dominant personality, you know that?

Confused, Tex looked around. “Church? What the fuck--”

Also, not to freak you out, but I was still synced to the ship, so... uhhhh... our friends out there waiting on us may have heard us on the speakers.

Tex stared at Church’s robotic body still hooked up to the ship. “I’m going to kill you.”

You might have to get in line--

Holding her helmet gingerly, Tex shook her head. “How’re you--”

Hey, I’m talking. I said you might have to get in line. Looks like we’ve got some company that’s pretty interested in that literally internet-breaking sex we just had heading this way. And by that I mean multiple parties.

“If that was sex with you, I think I may have remembered why we broke up,” Tex said, beginning to run toward the door to secure it.

Ha ha, real funny. Bitch.

A smirk was working itself across Tex’s face. “Asshole,” she said almost tenderly.

It was somewhat amazing how just a few short weeks left Wash with the unfortunate conditioning of not running away from a giant tank rolling toward him.

“Sheila!” he called out, waving at her. “What the hell is going on!?”

“Oh, good day, Agent Washington!” Sheila replied happily, still driving toward him. “I am pleased to announce that labor is proceeding very well.”

“Yeah, about that,” Wash said, beginning to grow somewhat wary that Sheila wasn’t slowing down. “That’s part of the what the hell category I was -- Sheila, why are you still coming toward me?”

The tank nodded its cannon down. “Oh, that is not me, Agent Washington. I am allowing the pilot to learn how to manage the controls with me temporarily. So I do believe that is a question best left for her!”

Confused, Washington blinked. “Pilot?”

A few feet from him, Sheila did a sharp turn, lining up her cabin with where Washington was standing. When it popped open, Wash wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t Four Seven Niner.

“Niner!?” he asked in shock. “But... you were--”

Washington was completely taken aback when the woman flung herself toward him and lunged into a full on hug around his shoulders, her arm muscles strong enough to put the crunch on him even in his armor.

“Uh,” Wash fumbled out awkwardly.

“You asshole,” she breathed against his neck. “I am so glad you’re alright, and I’m so, so sorry about so many things. And I’ll answer any questions you’ve got, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know, and I don’t want you to think I’m going to hold it against you forever that you were a little bitch to me back at Recovery when you left me, I’ll only hold it against you for a little while.”

Still awkward, Wash glanced around before refocusing on Niner. “You’re driving our tank,” he stated the obvious.

"Actually, she and I have been talking a lot and she’d prefer to be recognized for her autonomy,” Niner explained. “We relate a lot.”

Wash leaned forward, being pulled by the force of having Niner hanging by his neck. “You called a doctor for Tucker? He’s with him? He thinks he’s pregnant?”

“Yes!” Sheila answered peppily at the same time Niner said, “Yeah I had questions about that, too.”

“Okay, well that could only be Doc then because Tucker is not pregnant. It’s probably something to do with his stupid sword,” Wash announced. He was completely bent over at that point. “Niner do you need me to do something or...?”

“Being self sufficient and autonomous myself, I actually hate when people help me. I can pull myself back into the tank, I got in there to begin with,” Niner said snappishly.

“Okay?” Wash replied blankly.

“But in this one instance...”

With a heavy sigh, Wash wrapped his arms around Niner’s waist, adjusted her and then pulled her into more of a bridal position, ready to put her back in the cockpit of Sheila. “Can you make me a promise that you’re not going to shoot me with our team tank after I put you back in there?”

“Why would I do that?” Niner asked.

Wash glanced back toward Sheila.

“I have learned not to take that bet,” Sheila advised.

“That’s comforting, thanks,” Wash replied dryly. He readied to put Niner back in her seat when there was the sounds of several pairs of feet behind him. He turned and looked in annoyance toward Red Team and friends. “Seriously, we don’t have time to ward off a Red Team Attack. You want our flag, you can take it, but I’m going to pay back anything you do to the base two-fold when I get things settled down.”

“Where’d you get your negotiating skills? From a Russian prison camp?” Grif asked. “I’m actually here because my idiot sister thinks she’s a Blue.”

“I’m here for the team, officer!” Kaikaina saluted with an army salute.

“We’re marines,” Washington pointed out.

“Duh,” she snorted in return.

“Wash!” York’s voice carried before he finished coming over the hill. He then stopped a few feet short. “Niner!!!”

“York!” she cried out before launching from Wash’s arms into York.

Unlike Wash, however, York returned the hug immediately and spun with Niner before coming to a stop, “Niner! Oh my god -- I was expecting Tex here, but I never dreamed-- That means... Carolina!? Is she here--”

“Tex and Carolina went after the Alpha,” Niner explained.

“The whatie whoie?” Sarge asked.

“Of course they did,” Wash sighed, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like we have a man giving birth to something on the base. Which I still don’t believe--”

“Yeah, that’s what I came here for!” Donut announced, raising his hand.

“Me too! That and being a Blue, officer!” Kaikaina called out.

“They think the Director might be there, too,” Niner explained gravely.

York took in a gulp of air. “Okay... well, if I’ve learned anything, it’s that that many coincidences don’t line up at once without an explosion in the process. I’ve gotta get there. Back them up.”

“How? You look like shit!” Niner cried out.

“Okay, everyone agrees that this guy is the bargain bin version of a Freelancer and my job is still at risk to him?” Simmons pointed out.

“Not at risk, Simmons! Completely and thoroughly already lost!” Sarge chuckled.

“Caboose is there, too,” Sheila said. “I do hope there is not truly an explosion. Those are usually costly and devastating to Blue Team members within the blast radius.”

Washington let out a long sigh and rubbed at his visor uselessly. “Dammit. I have to help Caboose. But Tucker--”

“We’ll be on it, Wash!” Donut called out.

Confused, Washington looked at Donut. “You’ll take care of Tucker?”

“Well yeah,” Donut replied with a snap of his wrist. “What’re friends for?”

Words failed Washington, but he knew the answer even if he couldn’t say it.

This. That moment laid out before them. That was what friends were for.

“Sheila, did they use the teleporter?” he asked. “And are the coordinates still set?”

“Yes they are, Agent Washington!” the tank chipped in happily.

“Alright,” Wash said, grabbing his rifle from over his shoulder. “Let’s get our friends.”

#writing #rvb fic #RvB: Recovery None #Agent Texas #Agent Washington #Agent Carolina #Epsilon Church #Michael J Caboose #Alpha Church #Agent York #Agent South #Dick Simmons #Dexter Grif #Colonel Sarge #Franklin Delano Donut #Chex #AI: Sheila #Four Seven Niner

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