mumblybee:

Well! That quickly became possibly the worst day ever of all time! Not going into work tomorrow after all, too much fucking emotional trauma in one goddamn day. So I’m going to go ahead and ramble forever about RvB in order to not have another fucking mental breakdown.

Regarding the new RvB episode - I fucking love Carolina even though she’s batshit.

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First off, massive, massive amounts of hugs. All of them. All the electronic hugs. If you’re not feeling them yet, give it a second because I’m sending them ALL.

Secondly, I agree. Wholeheartedly, with every point, and that is why I will always, always love Carolina. Because sometimes, for all her flaws and impulsiveness and everything, thinking “what would Carolina do” really helps. Because sometimes you need to be fucking boss like she is, and I just feel really close to her character. And I love her so much.

And seriously. All the hugs.

completelysane:

    “You turned off the gravity?”

    York leaned back in the hospital bed. He didn’t hurt, despite Wash’s occasional frenzied glances at the chart on the table just inside the door. York just needed to be checked after an accidental spacing, which had left him shaken, and, now, mostly bored.

    York was pretty sure Wash was beginning to regret that York didn’t have an injury slowing him down right now, seeing as the banter had started at the speed of light. 

    “I was rushed!” Wash protested. “We were in the middle of a firefight!”

    “You turned off the gravity, man.”

    “At least I did my half of the infiltration.”

    York raised a hand. “Now hold on. You’re going to blame me for…” He lowered his voice. “D tossing me out the window?”

    “Um, maybe.”

    “You turned off the —”

    “It was an unfamiliar system!”

    York chose not to mention that most of the systems they worked on were unfamiliar, and how he specifically had been unfamiliar with the first-hand effects of a grenade to the face, and would Wash like to hear about that. But he refrained, because CT had left that morning. York thought she was selfish, traitorous, and a lot of other words he wasn’t going to call her in front of Wash, but that wouldn’t help.

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I LOVE the difference in how they physically carry/show their emotions :D And their banter. Man.

I have missed Wash and York being bros. I love those two together, and you write them so well!

“Firefly,” Wash said easily and without hesitation. He followed that answer with a happy, proud smile.

Connie looked at him from across the table, confused. “What? I always called them lightning-bugs.”

“No, the show. Firefly.” He paused, dramatically, and leaned over the table in his most serious voice. “Have you never seen Firefly, Connecticut?”

She laughed and playfully, gently slapped his face away and back until he was sitting down in his chair again. “I told you, if you want me to call you Wash, then you have to call me Connie.”

He grinned at her, slowly, letting the smile stretch as his eyes took in her face. She looked at him and ignored the warning flag a look like that would usually send up. They were flirting. Nothing wrong with flirting.

“I haven’t seen Firefly, by the way. But I bet you haven’t seen Mythbusters.”

“Nope, never heard of it!” Wash said happily.

She leaned an elbow on the table and pointed at him with a grin, closing one eye as if she was keeping him in her imaginary sights. “Alright, then, Wash. We’ll do a trade. I’ll show you my show, and you’ll show me yours.”

“Sure, Connie,” he said, and she pretended not to smile at how he said her name. “How many seasons are there of Mythsmashers anyway?”

“Mythbusters,” she corrected. “Seventeen total. Not counting the specials. And Firefly?”

“Only five,” Wash said with a slight frown. “I could probably find something else to watch to make up for the remaining twelve seasons of difference.”

“I’m sure we can find a way to fill the time,” Connie said with a smirk that made Wash’s ears turn pink. He was going to respond with something clever (at least he hoped it would be clever), but South walked into the room and she started talking to Connie, so Wash just sat there and smiled to himself, counting how many hours he’d just signed away to be in the company of this strange girl with odd hair and a dislike for helmets.

delkios:

Title: Toeing the Line
Fandom: Red vs Blue
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: 466
Characters: York, Carolina, briefly Delta
Summary: Spoiler for the first episode of season 10. York is not pleased with recent events.

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YES GOOD.

I also want to see York get pissed about this. And I hope they show it. Mmmm, delicious fic inspiration…

((This was supposed to be a response to a  lyric prompt from Zuzanna. Instead it decided to run away and be a massive barely-coherent post about the AU where Fey and Victoria are part of the Freelancer program. Erm. Yeah. This fic ran away from me. Ran far, far away.))

They adapted again to the new names they were issued. In private conversations, it was still Victoria and Fey, as it would always be. But to everyone else on the Mother of Invention, they were Agent Oregon and Agent Virginia. They adapted easily, even when talking with the other agents, never slipping back into the familiarity of first names. Never allowing themselves that comfort.

The next time the name “Fey” left Victoria’s lips, it wasn’t a testament to their friendship but an attack to sentimentality. Fey just nodded, taking it in stride and silence.

—-

There were whispers. Of course there would be. And more and more agents would come up to Victoria and demand answers. “Oregon, what the hell is up with Virginia?” “Oregon, didn’t you used to be in the same unit as Virginia? How did she even get to this program.” “Oregon, where’s your simulation-trooper friend?” 

When confronted, publicly, privately, Fey would look up and her answer would always be the same. “What do you mean?”

“You’re stifling yourself,” Victoria would say. Easily. “You’re stifling yourself and undershooting.”

Fey would lean forward, lean into cruelty and mockery and all of the buttons she knew Victoria couldn’t deal with, and say “And you’re trying so hard, Oregon. So hard, and where are you getting?”

Victoria would storm out, Fey would sit back and relax, and the whispers would double, triple, morph, change, gain speed and venom and, worst of all, momentum.

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“I read a book like this once.” He offered this bit of information freely as she stood next to him, obviously nervous to the point of shaking.

“Yeah? About submarines?” she said forcibly, making conversation because it would take her mind off of the fact that they would soon close the hatch and they would sink, actually sink.

“Yeah. Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.”

“Twenty thousand…what’s a league?”

“Distance?”

“But how much?”

Wyoming shrugged, and he noticed Connie next to him wind up even more at this show on nonchalance. “You’ve never been in a submarine before?”

“No,” she said hastily, as if challenging him to comment on it. “Have you?”

“No,” Wyoming said. He didn’t seem very concerned about it. She glared at him, envying his calm and carefree existence.

The latch above the clanged shut and the crew men shouted something to each other and Connie let out a string of words very, very quickly and said “I don’t know how to swim.”

Wyoming looked at her, and she cursed herself for admitting it, for admitting it to him. Out of everyone she’d been meeting and getting to know in this project, Wyoming was by far the most unlikeable. And here she was, on mission with him, under water. In a giant metal bullet that’s sinking, and this is all somehow supposed to be ok?

And he’s supposed to reassure her?

He smiled at her, ever so briefly, and looked away around the gauges and knobs and pipes of the submarine. “Don’t worry,” he said, not looking at her. “If we sink, I won’t leave the ship without you.”

completelysane:

sometimes I write attempts at academic essays based on my online experiences

<3!

Seriously, the points you make are completely awesome and really hit my feelings on the subject, too. I love the concept of round robin fics (obviously) and participating in such an impromptu one myself was kind of…kind of epicly awesome.

I’m always self concsious about my work. My new year’s resolution was to actually share more of my writing and art with people, haha. (success? :P) It honestly surprises me when people say they like reading my writing or they like my art, or they’d want to see more, every time. (I kinda like it that way, too, because I’d much rather be humble and thankful for everyone who takes the time to look at my stuff than get to the point where it’s not a surprise, not unexpected. But that’s a different post all together.) That’s why, for me, the concept of a writing game of round robin is so amazing and, at the same time, so unlikely in my brain. I thought I’d feel like I was intruding on someone’s plan, that I’d feel like I’m sullying their story with my words or ruining what they were going to do next because I’m arrogant enough to think that they’d want my input on their story.

I was so happily surprised when we went back and forth like we did and none of those things came up. It was just amazing fun, to take what you’ve given me and work with it, build on it, and then have it come around again, richer for having your handywork on it.

Basically, your point at the end of your article was just reaffirmed 110% by me - I was worried about it, about how I’d do, about stepping on any toes, about having my writing be good enough or high quality enough compared to where I see yours, but none of that mattered because in the end, it was illegal amounts of fun. Stress-free, just feeding on your creative energies, a spontaneous burst of fanfiction that served to make me more comfortable with sharing my writing, and more excited and thrilled to be doing it with someone.

completelysane:

reeberry asked you:

“It occurred to her that in every relationship in which she had participated, in every union older than a year that she’d observed, imbalance existed. Of a couple, one person invariably loved stronger than the other. It seemed a law of nature, a cruel law that led to tension and destruction. She was dismayed that a law so unfair, so miserable prevailed, but since it did, since imbalance seemed inevitable, it must be easier, healthier to be the lover who loved least.”Allison/Church / CT/W / both?

There was this odd transition period after she knew and before she left, after he got Epsilon and before anyone realized what exactly was boring into his brain. She would come to visit him and York wold be standing outside the door with his arms folded. She’s ask “He locked his keys in the car again?” and York would nod. There was nothing funny about Epsilon murmuring through Wash, endless strings of another man’s mistakes, mostly all the wheels and highways and lost keys that kept him away from Allison. But once York had coined the code phrase it had stayed. They all felt they needed to hide something now, and that made CT feel even more that she was right.

During this period she would sit next to Wash’s bed while he muttered and curled in on himself. She could do nothing but wait and look for hidden cameras in the walls if he didn’t recognize her. If he did, he would grab at her hand but shy away to arm’s length, not looking at her eyes, still recognizing the skittishness in her and transferring it to himself.

If he thought she was Allison, though, he wanted her. Then he would look straight at her with the Epsilon-blue of his eyes. Usually she left him, cursing the disembodied blue and that other name that was, these days, always on his lips. Usually, she saw herself as the weak one, unable to help, unable even to stay.

Other days she saw herself as the strong one and him as confused, rightfully punished for being on the board, so out of synch with the world that he would never get it back. She was the one with vision. She was aware of what had been done.

On those days she would stay. She would let him pull her to him and whisper someone else’s name against her neck. Because she knew the truth, she was strong enough to be Allison. She was strong enough to lie to him. She could take what she wanted, and leave when he began to shake and talk about torture and needles and horror instead of Epsilon’s lost love.

(Tex never got involved because she was never in Wash’s room. She was never even in the common room. Presumably, she recharged somewhere else. But sometimes CT wondered.)

God, I just LOVE “She was strong enough to lie to him.”

And the code phrase.

And this. All of it. Alllll of iiiiiiit. <3