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Archive for the tag “genre: friendship”

[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…

The 100 fic: Weather the Storm With You

100_weatherthestormwithyou

1828 words | [PG]
Bellamy gets more than he bargained for during a hail storm. Like a wet, angry, sobbing Clarke in his tent. Started for Camp NaNo 2017: inside.


The rain came out of nowhere—the kind that drowns out all other sound and pulverizes the ground into a muddy mess in seconds. And to think, Bellamy used to like the rain. Thought it was magical and refreshing that first night on the ground. Now he just feels wet. He throws open the flap to his tent, grumbling about rain and mud and anything else he can think to curse.

They’ve been on the ground less than two weeks and have already endured a hurricane and countless other storms. He’s tired of being cold and wet all of the time. His jacket catches on his arms when he tries to take it off. He slams it onto the ground in frustration when he finally gets unstuck then runs a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes with a sigh. He really, really hates being wet.

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.”

The 100 fanfic: Handle with Care

handlewithcare[Bellamy/Clarke]
Set not long after s1e10 (I Am Become Death). Clarke is left to clean up the dropship on her own, but Bellamy thinks there’s something more important that she should be doing.

886 words | rating: PG


Bellamy finds Clarke inside the dropship. She kneels next to the last two sick kids and helps them sip some water. Less than twelve hours ago that was him lying on the floor near death. A tremor works through him at the memory. He’d never been so scared in his life.

When the kids have had their fill, she makes them comfortable, wiping blood from their faces and whispering comforting words. Then she picks up a bucket and starts scrubbing at the floor. He looks down at the dark stain by his feet. The floor is covered in them, and the smell of death hangs heavy in the air.

He notices for the first time that no one has stayed to help her clean up. Anger burns in the pit of his stomach. It’s just wrong on so many levels. When Clarke sits back on her heels with a tired sigh and rubs at a spot on her shoulder, Bellamy’s had enough.

He clears his throat, taking a few steps inside. “Hey, Clarke, can I talk to you a minute. Outside.”

She glances over her shoulder then back at her patients.

“I’ll get someone to watch them. I need your help with something.”

She nods and gets slowly to her feat, dropping the rag into a bucket of filthy water. Bellamy grabs the first three kids he sees and tells them to go clean up the dropship or he’ll have them digging the next latrine. They grumble as they pass Clarke.

“Volunteers,” he tells her with a crooked grin.

“I’m sure.” She crosses her arms over her chest, watching him warily. “What do you need?”

He flinches at her tone. It didn’t used to bother him as much when she got this standoffish. He jerks his head to the side and starts walking, knowing she’ll follow out of curiosity, if nothing else. He leads her over to his tent and holds the flap back. She stops, a brow arched. “What is this about?”

“I swear it’s nothing bad.”

“You know what they’re going to think if I go in there?”

Bellamy laughs. “Since when do you care what other people think?”

Her eyes narrow, but she seems to take his words as a personal challenge, turning and marching inside. She looks around, eyes catching on the pile of blankets in the middle of the tent. Bellamy pulls a crate over and pushes her down onto it.

“What-”

Then he places a plate of food in front of her. “You need to eat something before you fall over.”

She stares at the plate. “I didn’t ask for your food.”

“I know you didn’t ask. I know you never would. That’s why I’m offering. Actually, I’m insisting.” He squats down and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “Clarke, you do so much for us, and we repay you with whining and complaining and making you clean up that mess on your own. You deserve better than that.”

She shakes her head, pushing the plate away.

Bellamy holds it on her lap. “It’s time you let someone take care of you for a change.”

She sucks in a sharp breath. “Bellamy, I don’t know what to say,” she whispers, voice shaky.

He hadn’t meant to say all of that, but when she looks at him, tears trailing down her cheeks and lip quivering, he doesn’t regret it. He meant every word. And she needed to hear it.

He swallows hard, forcing down the sudden lump caught in his throat. “You don’t say anything. You just eat.” When she still doesn’t move, he taps her knee. “Come on, don’t make me feed it to you.”

That gets a laugh. “That won’t be necessary.”

Bellamy’s relieved when she finally starts eating. He pulls over another crate and swipes a piece of food from her plate. “I said I’d share, not give it to you.”

She laughs again then ducks her head. “Thank you.”

There’s a twinkle in her eyes when she looks up. He’s happy to see it’s no longer tears making her eyes shine. He shrugs. “You’d do the same for me.”

Her hand lands softly on his arm, sending a spark of electricity coursing through his entire body. “You scared me, you know. When you got sick.”

He forces himself to meet her gaze. “You scared me, too.” The air in the tent has gotten too hot and too charged with static for his comfort. Especially considering that it’s Clarke sitting across from him. He looks away. “I mean, I can’t run this place without you.”

Clarke tears apart a piece of meat. “Is that the only reason?”

Bellamy licks his lips, all sorts of thoughts and emotions swirling in his head. He’s not sure what his reasons are, so he decides to go with what he knows best—deflection. With a crooked grin, he takes the chunk of meat right out of her hand and pops it into his mouth. “Well, that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.”

Clarke shakes her head and laughs, the tension easing. They finish the plate in amicable silence. And when Clarke looks up at him with a thankful smile, setting butterflies loose in his stomach, Bellamy knows for sure there are other reasons. But that’s something to share another day.

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