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Archive for the tag “genre: friendship”

[REPOST] The 100 fic: At the Center of the Night

This story is being reposted from 2017 as part of this endeavor. Since it was written in the last few years, it didn’t need any extra editing (yay!), but it fits with my theme for February, so I’m reposting it. Enjoy.

sleep

Sleepless nights send Bellamy and Clarke on a crash course to finally fixing their friendship. Post season 3.
2,054 words | [R for language]


I’m not even sure why I’m here. I was on my way back to my quarters but took a wrong turn. I guess I wasn’t paying attention. But now that I’m here, I’m not sure what to do. The hall is dark—the power low to reflect the late hour—and it’s quiet. Everyone went to bed hours ago. I think about turning around. I think about going through with it. I think about running for my life because I’m sure this might be the biggest fucking mistake I could ever make.

All of this runs through my head in the matter of seconds. While my brain is trying to sort it out, my feet get a mind of their own. Next thing I know, I’m standing in front of Clarke’s quarters.

This is okay, isn’t it? We’re friends. After everything we’ve been through, it’s perfectly normal for one friend to call on another. I ignore the fact that it’s three in the morning. She said we needed each other. That had to mean something, right? And right now I need her. I need to talk to her. She always gets me like no one else can, not even Octavia. I need to talk to her. I need to see her face. To assure myself that she’s still here. That she isn’t some cruel prank my brain is playing on me. That she’s real, and she stayed this time.

She needed me.

And now I need her.

I hover in front of her door, rooted by indecision. On one hand, Lexa just died. It’s not like I’m asking her to marry me—I just want to talk. To spend time with her. We’re friends. On the other hand, the world is probably going to end in another month. There aren’t going to be many more somedays. I pull my hand back to knock, but then I hear footsteps.

My heart leaps into my throat as someone rounds the corner, but it’s just one of the guards. Probably heading home from the late shift just like me. He barely gives me a nod as he passes, his heavy steps scuffing the floor. I let out a breath. This is ridiculous. If I’m jumping like a startled school kid caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar then I know this is wrong.

I spin on my heel and force myself to walk away. Without looking back. This never happened. I won’t even think about how close I came to making a fool out of myself. I’ll go home, take a hot shower, pretend I can sleep in my soft bed, and when I get up, she’ll have breakfast with me and our friends. She’s real. She’s here. She wants to be here.

Because she has nowhere else to go. Read more…

[REPOST] Red vs Blue fic: Shut Up and Dance

This story is being reposted from 2018 as part of this endeavor. Since it was written in the last few years, it didn’t need any extra editing (yay!), but it fits with my theme for February, so I’m reposting it. Enjoy.

rvb_shutupanddance

A mission without armor and weapons? Instead there’s black ties and gowns. Schmoozing and dancing. Sounds like Carolina’s worst nightmare. Specifically, the dancing part.

York, though, is loving every bit of it. Especially, the dancing part.
1,685 words | [PG-13]


Carolina studied the invitation in her hands. It was clear plastic with holographic ink that shimmered when the light hit it just right.

~*~

Verdidad Museum of Human Culture

100th Grand Gala

~*~

Their next mission. Words spun in her head. Museum. Gala. Black tie. Ball. No armor. Dancing. She didn’t like any of them. Some less than others.

York caught up with her in the hall. “Hey, you were awfully quiet in there. Everything okay?”

“Huh?”

He laughed. “I’ve never seen you zone out in a briefing before.”

She frowned at him. “I wasn’t zoning out. I was thinking.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” When she didn’t respond, he tapped her arm. “Come on—something’s on your mind. You can tell me.”

“This mission doesn’t-” She considered her words before finishing. “I don’t know, rub you the wrong way? Fancy gala. No armor. We’ll be vulnerable.”

“Oh, come on, Carolina, it’ll be fun. We get to dress up, and look, Mr. and Mrs. Edward Chamberlain.” He waggled his eyebrows—a goofy smile on his face.

Carolina shook her head, biting back a smile. The man couldn’t take anything seriously. She stared hard at the invitation like the wording might magically change. Get dressed up? Mr. and Mrs.? The bad feeling grew. “I don’t like being vulnerable,” she finally said, not looking at him.

York sighed. “Always got to rain on my parade.”

“I just don’t like it. How are we supposed to get the key card from this Jamison guy?”

“I don’t know? It’s a ball—dance with him.”

Carolina froze, causing York to stumble to a stop a few steps away. “Dance?” Read more…

[REPOST] Stargate SG-1 fic: Plans Change

Sam’s Christmas plans change unexpectedly. But that can be a good thing. A Christmas fic.
This story is being reposted from 2010 as part of this endeavor. It’s one of the very first stories I ever wrote which means the spelling, grammar, and punctuation were horrible. It’s been edited for the above and for clarity. See the original here.
4955 words | [PG]


Plans change. Sam knew the statistical probability of never having plans change was… really high. She didn’t much feel like doing the math at the moment, though. She just knew from personal experience that her chances were higher than most.

She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her ticket to California, a half-packed duffel at her feet. “Figures. My first Christmas off in forever.” She fell back with a sigh.

It really didn’t surprise her much when her dad contacted the SGC to say he wouldn’t be coming. It’s not like the Tok’ra celebrated Earth holidays, and there were more important things going on than Christmas dinner. Sam could accept that her dad was now some alien-hybrid superhero off making the galaxy safer for everyone. Really, she understood why her father stood her up… again. But she didn’t relish having to explain it to her brother. Without actually explaining everything.

But that ended up not being a problem. She had been halfway through packing her bag when the phone rang.

“Carter.”

“Wow, is that really how you answer your phone?”

A smile spread across her face at the sound of her brother’s voice. “Hey, Mark. I’m almost packed, and my flight leaves at 1300 hours. That’s one this afternoon-”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, “that’s what I was calling about.” Read more…

[REPOST] The 100 fic: Us Against Everything

This story is being reposted from 2017 as part of this endeavor. Since it was written in the last few years, it didn’t need any extra editing (yay!), but it’s a story about being cold and fits with my theme for December, so I’m reposting it. Enjoy.

usagainsteverything

[Bellamy/Clarke]
Canon divergent. With a brutal winter ahead, Bellamy realizes there might be more than friendship growing between him and Clarke.

1536 words | [PG]


Bellamy gets back to camp late. It’s hard to tell the exact time with it getting dark so early, but he figures it must be after nine. The sun went down long ago, and it’s abysmally cold. He blows into his hands, trying to warm his numb fingers. Two fires are burning, but the space around them is empty of their usual laughing kids.

Sterling and two of the other guys he’s with make a beeline for the fire, practically holding their hands in the flames. The other three high-tail it into the dropship. Raven and Monty are still working to get the heat going, but eighty-something bodies crammed into a tin can keeps them warm enough for now. It’s better than being outside anyway.

It’d taken all day, but they’d finally buried the three they lost last night—Edith, Jerome, and Bennett. Edith was only fourteen and down here for talking back to a teacher. He shakes his head. He still can’t believe what they did to these kids. Sure, some of them were hardened criminals. There were killers and rapists among them, but most of the kids were arrested for petty stuff—shoplifting, fistfights, hoarding. It’s almost as if they knew they needed the bodies to fill the dropship so they arrested the kids for anything. Bastards.

His body aches, but he still goes down the line, checking the tents to make sure everyone has moved inside. As he nears the dropship, he hears something in the darkness. His hand drops instinctively to the hatchet at his waist. He approaches slowly. Someone gasps then goes quiet. Crying. He finds Clarke leaning against the dropship, wiping away the tears with her fingertips as if trying to erase the evidence. He’s not sure what he thinks about that.

[continue reading]

[REPOST] Buffy fic: All I Want for Christmas is You

This story is being reposted from 2014 as part of this endeavor. It’s been lightly edited for spelling, punctuation, grammar and for clarity. See the original here.

bvs_alliwant

Set in season six. Buffy’s back from the dead and still having a hard time dealing with life; Christmas is almost more than she can handle. While her friends take a break from the chaos that is their lives, Buffy sneaks out, only to find Spike doing his stalker routine. But things aren’t always as bad as they seem, and neither is Spike.
1315 words | [PG]


The door clicked softly behind Buffy. She pulled her sweater tighter around her as she sat on the back steps, her breath hanging in the cool December air. From inside, she could hear her friends singing carols, buzzed on too much spiked eggnog. She leaned her head into her hands; everything was so hard.

After a moment, she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “What do you want, Spike?”

Spike chuckled. “You always seem to know where I am, love.”

“I could smell the smoke.”

“Oh.” He looked at his cigarette then dropped it, squashing it with his foot.

“Spike, I’m really not in the mood.”

“Not up with the holiday cheer then?”

“Go home.” Buffy ran her hands through her hair.

Spike came over to the porch. “No.”

“Spike, please-”

“No.” He sat down next to her. “You need some cheerin’ up.” Read more…

The 100 fic: Penny for Your Thoughts

PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS

A year after waking up light years from Earth, Bellamy and Clarke have a quiet moment and make some decisions.
545 words | [G]


“Penny for your thoughts, princess?”

Clarke started, nearly falling from her perch on the irrationally large boulder. Bellamy easily hauled himself up to sit next to her. They stared out into the valley below that the four hundred ten survivors were slowly converting to a real community. A lot had changed in the year since they arrived at New Earth. Clarke glanced at Bellamy, her heart fluttering. And some things hadn’t changed at all.

“I just have a lot on my mind, I guess,” she finally answered.

“When don’t you?”

Clarke ignored his dig. “Raven says she should have the generators repaired by tonight so lights. Diyoza and her gang are clearing the north pasture tomorrow. That Kennedy guy loves his explosions so it shouldn’t take long. My mom said-”

“I didn’t come up here to talk business, Clarke,” Bellamy said softly. “I get enough of that headache down there. I came up here to-” He trailed off. Read more…

Red vs Blue fic: Attention to Detail

After their last Eleventh Hour Hail Mary mission, Grif had plopped down right among the dying enemy soldiers and said he wasn’t moving until he got some leave. He wouldn’t even budge for Sarge’s shotgun.

“We’ve saved the galaxy enough times. I think we deserve a vacation.”

No one could come up with a logical rebuttal for that so they headed to the nearest resort planet.

OR

Epsilon and the gang take a vacation, and it goes about as well as you’d expect.

rating: R for language 


attention (n): consideration, notice, or observation | detail (n): a part considered or requiring to be considered separately from the whole

Chapter 1

“Blackwater is a neutral planet,” Simmons read from an advertisement as they skimmed over a midnight ocean, heading to the biggest space dock on the southern continent—a tourist hot-spot apparently. He continued to read off a long list of rules and regulations for visiting Blackwater while Church and Caboose watched their clunky approach out a side window.

“Why do you think they call it Blackwater?” Caboose asked, thoughtfully. “Do you think it’s because the water is black? Or do you think the water is black because the planet is called Blackwater?”

“That doesn’t even make sense, dumbass,” Tucker said from Caboose’s other side. “Why would the water change color to black just because the name of the planet has ‘black’ in it?”

Church reached around behind Caboose and smacked Tucker upside the head.

“According to the brochure,” said Wash, strolling over to join them (or maybe just trying to be closer to the emergency exit as they neared the dock), “the water on this planet appears black on the surface because of a mineral in the soil.”

Caboose mulled this over for a moment. “Neat.”

They bumped and bobbled along as Grif struggled to maintain altitude and pitch on his first landing approach. It usually took two or three tries if they didn’t want to crash and burn on impact, but they glided in, only slamming slightly into the docking bay before easily coming to a stop on the first attempt.

“Ha!” Grif shouted from the cockpit. “Nailed it.” Read more…

Red vs Blue fic: Burnt Toast

rvb_burnttoast.jpg

Wash/Carolina | 1013 words | [PG]
Two years ago, they shut down Project Freelancer for good, saved the people of Chorus from mutual annihilation, and stopped Hargrove from destroying more lives. Now Carolina and Wash have to figure out how to live with everything that happened and each other. 


The sun slants through the kitchen window of Blue base at just the right angle to reflect off the stainless steel counters, brightening the dull gray space. Carolina leans against the sink, sipping coffee, watching the dust moats float in the strip of light as it moves slowly across the room, her coffee getting cold along the way.

“Hey, Boss,” Wash mumbles as he enters, stumbling towards the coffee maker. He’s still in his pajamas—plaid flannel pants and faded t-shirt—hair plastered to his face. He practically moans at the first taste of his coffee.

“You’re up early,” Carolina finally says. Her coffee is completely cold now, but she drinks it anyway.

Wash shrugs, hopping onto the counter across from her. “Just thought I’d watch the sunrise. Get a jump on the day. You know.”

Carolina knows. The whole base knows. Probably the entire moon. It was one of those nights again. Wash’s screams echoing through the halls. They don’t talk about it because what’s there to say? They all have nightmares—flashbacks to the horrors of their past lives. Just Wash has more than one life to account for in his head. That means three times the number of sleepless nights. He looks awful, bloodshot eyes staring blankly at the floor. Read more…

Stargate SG-1 fic: Home Improvement

[Sam & Jack friendship]
Sam gets a surprise visit from the colonel and his tools.
341 words | rating: G


Sam woke on a Saturday to a loud crash that rattled the walls of her house. She shot out of bed, reaching for a gun that wasn’t there. It took her a few seconds to relax and remember she was at home, not off-world. There was another smaller crash then a lot of banging. What the hell?

She padded down the hall into the kitchen. More noise came from the backyard. She really considered finding that gun when a large shadow passed the door. Wait a minute. Sam cocked her head—that was a shadow she recognized. In her bare feet and pajamas, she opened the back door, finding her porch in pieces

“Sir?” Sam said, crossing her arms as she leaned against the door frame. “What are you doing?”

The colonel started, dropping a hammer. He looked up at her, three nails hanging from his lips. He mumbled something around the nails then pulled them from his mouth. “Hey, Carter. I just-” He looked around at the mess. “Did I wake you?”

“It’s oh-seven-thirty, sir.”

“So I woke you.”

She glared at him. Then at the mess.

He cleared his throat. “I just noticed that your deck was looking a little worn. I mean, the last time we were here for team night. It’s a little battered. But the frame is still good. I just thought I’d spruce it up-”

His rambling was kind of adorable. She forced her mind away from those dangerous thoughts and put a hand up to stop him. “I appreciate the thought, sir, but this is a rental. I’m not sure what my landlady will think of your home improvements.”

“Oh.” He ducked his head, a blush creeping up his neck. Very adorable.

Bad Sam.

Sam bit her lips to keep from smiling while the colonel stood there looking awkward as hell. When she thought he’d suffered enough, she shook her head. “Well, since you’re here—you want some coffee? There might be donuts, too.” She went back in the house, knowing without a doubt that he’d follow.

Stargate SG-1 fic: When I’m Gone

Just a little team miscommunication courtesy or Jack’s twisted sense of humor.

190 words | rating: G


“Remember me when I’m gone,” Jack said, appearing at the door of Sam’s lab. Sam and Daniel looked up from the plan they were working on.

“Why?” asked Daniel. “What’s wrong?

“Are you sick, sir?”

Jack sat heavily on one of the stools. He didn’t even spin. “Yes, sick.”

“Oh, god. What is it? Cancer? Poisoning? What was that alien thing SG-9 caught last week-”

Sam interrupted him. “Sir, is it serious?”

“Very.”

Daniel looked panicked. “What can we do, Jack? Is there a treatment?”

Jack sighed. “Unfortunately, no.”

“No,” Daniel yelled, “this isn’t right. You can’t die. We’ll talk to the Tok’ra. They owe us.”

“Who said anything about dying?”

Sam and Daniel exchanged looks. “You did,” they said at the same time

“No, I didn’t. I said to remember me when I’m gone. Hammond just told me I’m being sent to Washington for the week. This is serious business. There’s no treatment for boredom by politician.”

Sam rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Sir-”

Jack just smiled.

“Sometimes I hate you,” said Daniel.

“Well, my work here is done,” Jack said with a clap. “See you next week.”

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