Posts tagged tex.
From Nem: And Sarge/Tex, with him trying to convince her to join Red Team. Yes.
“You want to be on the winning team,” Sarge said. It had always convinced him. He wanted to be a winner, and be on the winning team, so obvious that was Red Team. Because he was a winner, and he was a Red.
Tex laughed at him. “Any team I’m on is the winning team.”
“Exactly! Glad we’re in agreement!” He looked her over as she stood there, confused. “Your armor isn’t really red, but we let Grif stay here and he’s orange, so we can make an exception.”
“I thought he was more yellow,” Tex corrected. “Anyway, I’m a freelancer. I’m not on anyone’s team but my own.”
“Exactly!” he said triumphantly, and Tex was starting to consider leaving the conversation. “And your own team should be the best team around! Which is my team. Red Team. You should join us.”
“We win more than 70% of our battles, unless you ask Lopez, but I think his wiring is a little funny. He keeps saying 33%, and we all know that can’t be right.”
“I’m going to go back to Blue Base now.”
“Well, think about it,” he yelled after her. “It’s a limited time offer!” It always seemed like deadlines were what motivated people. They always motivated him. He nodded in self-satisfaction. She’d be back this afternoon to take him up on it, for sure.
RvB Prompt: Outsourcing
Office Romance AU with Sheila and Lopez pls :)
(I know this is going to get away from me, so I’m making it into a proper text post rather than an ask because of length and read more cuts.)
“UGH. It’s doing it again!”
Sheila popped her head up over the short cubicle wall. “Doing what?” she asked calmly. The girl, Kaikaina or something (everyone just called her Sister), was furiously punching her keyboard and staring down the frozen computer screen.
“Look at it!” she complained. The screen sat frozen with a little mocking hourglass half-turned. “I wasn’t even on the internet this time!”
Sheila thought about how she could, theoretically, sit down and explain to Sister how computer viruses worked and how, with her track record and internet usage habits, her computer is easily suffering from the bubonic plague. But, really, Sister didn’t seem to understand it the first two times anyway.
“Just call support,” Allison called over from the other side of Sister’s cubicle. “That’s what they’re there for.”
“But I always get that one guy who doesn’t even speak English! He’s always going on in Mexicanese.” She leaned back in her chair and let herself fall down in her seat until she looked like she was about to spill out of it. Sheila looked at her computer screen, her work predictably ahead of schedule, and sighed as she offered, “I could call for you, Sister.”
She immediately sat up, her spirits lifted as she turned a positively beaming face on Sheila. “Would you? You’re the best, Sheila!” She jumped out of her seat and swiveled it welcomingly as Sheila walked over and sat down, picking up the phone and dialing the Dreaded Number for IT support. “Oh, oh!” Sister said, tapping Sheila on the shoulder in tune with the rings on the other end of the phone. “If it’s some guy named Dick or Simon or Simmons or whatever, you can give it back to me. He sounds totally nerdy-hot. I bet he has to wear glasses.”
Sheila shooed her away as the phone was picked up and she said, “Hello, Lopez. This is Sheila from Weapons Control. I’m having a bit of computer trouble I was hoping you’d help me with.” Sister walked off to get herself coffee, muttering about the IT department and how she bet Simmers was totally too hot to live in India or Mexico or wherever.
RvB Drabble: Terse
“You’re sure about this?” Tex said, again. York rolled his eyes, the effort lost behind his helmet. “We can’t come back to save them.”
“She told me to go,” York muttered finally. That shut Tex up as they were packing, taking armor and ammo and weapons, taking data and provisions and proof.
“I’m sorry,” she said, putting the message from CT on a chain around her neck. “What about your bunkmate? He’s still-“
“He’s not going to wake up.” There was a sigh in every syllable of that sentence.
“But the doctors said-” she started, unsure why she’s spending this time convincing him out of the act she had spent months persuading him to consider. Something felt weird. He was too quiet.
“Wash isn’t coming back. Not from that. It doesn’t matter if he wakes up.” He picked up his weapon. “I don’t like ghost stories, Tex. Let’s just…let’s go.”
super short ficlet with kinda spoilers under the cut, will write more better when brain starts working again.
queen-of-france asked: Ahahaha ALL OF THE SHIPS. York/Carolina (in light of more recent episodes)? Wyoming/Tex? Sarge/Tex? Kara/Batgirl? Harley/Ivy? Cas/Dean?
ALL OF THE SHIPS. ALL OF THE AWESOME SHIPS.
- Rate it on a scale of 1 to 10: 10! They were my first real not-canon-approved ship in RvB. They’ll always have a very very special place in my heart because of that.
- Tell what I like/don’t like about it: I love how their personalities interact and fit together, how they can find strength in each other, and I hate/love how tragically they end.
- Write a small fic: York was kind of curious why, exactly, the twins had asked to watch him and Carolina during sparring practice. He got his answer when, after they were done and he was walking past South, she grinned and said, “so is the sex just as good, or…” North smacked his sister in the arm, which didn’t seem to faze her, and York turned around with a grin and answered, “better.” North’s cheeks got a little more color and South just grinned in triumph at her brother’s flushed face.
- Rate it on a scale of 1 to 10: Would have been a 3 before this week’s episode and the mustache. Now it’s a 2. I can see it, but I can’t see her tolerating that caterpillar. Or Wyoming himself for very long.
- Tell what I like/don’t like about it: What I like is the potential for hilarity. Especially now with the mustache. What I don’t like is, I guess, is the dynamic of them. I just have a hard time seeing them as anything but a complete crack ship.
- Write a small fic: “Remember how we met, Wyoming?” Tex would ask smugly. He’d frown under that mess of facial hair and murmur something like “yes, I tried to kill you,” and she’d respond with “‘tried’ being the operative word,” and they’d go back and forth with the snark that came so easily to her, and so often easily to him, until she sometimes called him Church. He’d let it go, but for the rest of their conversations his voice would droop a bit lower, his smile a bit forced, his speech a bit more British, futile efforts to distinguish himself from a memory.
- Rate it on a scale of 1 to 10: 4, and it’s all because of Nem. Before her fanfics and ideas, the thought of Sarge and romance was kind of…not an option. XD
- Tell what I like/don’t like about it: What I like is Sarge and robots. What I don’t like is the idea of Sarge and
anyone other than his shotgunwomen.
- Write a small fic: Sarge couldn’t deny the absolute efficiency of Carolina, but there was something off about the new freelancer. Perhaps it was all the ways she was so very similar to the old one, and the one flesh and blood and human way she was so very different, but efficient or blue or freelancer or not, Sarge had a small space in his heart that resented the newcomer, even if he could never really figure out why.
Kara/Batgirl (I’m going to write in Steph Brown Batgirl here)
- Rate it on a scale of 1 to 10: 10 as friends (loooove them!) and probably a 6 as romantic anything because Steph has got her eyes on other people. And Kara might too?
- Tell what I like/don’t like about it: THERE IS NO BAD. THEY ARE PERFECT TOGETHER AND BESTEST OF FRIENDS AND BFF (which is already plural).
- Write a small fic: “It’s weird,” Steph said, frowning. “It’s not weird, it’s…super.” Kara’s text insisted. “I don’t see why we can’t just use phones,” Steph pressed on. She was talking to herself out of her window while Kara was…somewhere. Across town, maybe? Somewhere within range of super hearing, anyway. “Or at least let me text you back rather than just talking to myself-” “This is better, it’s like high tech soup cans with the wires…isn’t that what Earth children do to communicate?” Steph rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Kara, just let me actually call you. Please? You’re trying to recreate a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon.” “A what? I’m not sure how to use this thing. It does voice?” Kara’s text read, and Steph finally sighed in defeat. “Nevermind. But you’ll have to explain to my mom why I’m sitting in my room talking to myself with the window open.” “Like that’s unusual for you. ;)”
- Rate it on a scale of 1 to 10: 10. 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10!
- Tell what I like/don’t like about it: The only way to make these two more crazy is to put them together. Of course I love this pairing. :D
- Write a small fic: “I can play doctor,” Harley said firmly. “I got one of them degrees hangin’ on my wall next to the toy gun and the acid-spitting flower!” Ivy looked at her friend with a sigh and said, calmly, “any degree hung up next to a deadly clown prop is invalid.” Harley crossed her arms and sat down on the couch with a huff, until Ivy rolled her eyes and handed the girl back the stethoscope.
- Rate it on a scale of 1 to 10: 10. We all know it’s there, even if some of us (including me) are still clinging to denial.
- Tell what I like/don’t like about it: I love all of the undertones of them and being together, romantically or not, all their interactions and every heartwrenching easy-to-read-into-glance. I hate that it’s not, technically, canon.
- Write a small fic: When Dean handed him the trenchcoat - full of symbolism and hope and more than a twinge of desperation - the first thing Cas noticed was the smell. It didn’t smell like him anymore, or the swamp he lost it in, or the trunk of the car it had supposedly been sitting in for the longest time - it smelled like Dean.
completelysane asked: And/or Tex/Sarge, AU where this is vaguely plausible. :P
There were certain things Sarge knew as undeniably wrong: being a Blue, disrespecting the god-given chain of command, and adultery. That’s why when Tex invaded his base, not for any military operation but rather for a slightly under-the-table meeting, his first words were, “I thought you were with that Blue fella.”
She looked at him for a moment and he was reminded of how she hummed, a thing he never thought he’d like about a woman, and she answered with a simple, “’with’ is a very strong word.”
RvB: Drabble Prompts!
Stolen from mumblybee and completelysane like a pro, without permission and everything!
1. Write down the names of 10 characters.
2. Write a drabble based on the prompts given. (I changed the directions slightly because a 15 word limit? That’s really cute of you.)
First Time, 4 and 6: Wash and Wyoming
Wyoming hadn’t said much after implantation. Not yet. He was still waiting for his AI to settle in and really show itself. He was still in the middle of “implantation sickness”.
Wash was watching him. He was next, a few days from now. He’d seen Carolina and York and North go through it already, but he couldn’t spot a pattern. They all took different amounts of time, they all dealt with it differently, they all came back to themselves a different way. It scared him that he didn’t know what to expect, so he sat, watching, hoping for familiarity.
Wyoming looked up at him, eyes focusing clearly for the first time in four days. “Hey, Wash,” he said roughly, the slight strain of not using his voice evident.
“Yeah?” Wash answered, studying him, committing this moment to memory.
Angst, 7: Maine
He wasn’t sure why the director had decided creativity was the best trait to give him. Every mission he had carried out, he had done so successfully, and doesn’t that, by itself, require creativity? He wasn’t sure why, but questioning the Director was never an option in Maine’s mind.
Not until Sigma woke up, anyway.
It was easy at first. Trade out one commanding tone for another. The director must have noticed it, too, how Maine would wait to confirm with Sigma before taking action. The director began to realize how much control he was losing over his own agent, and, like any scientist, he wasn’t scared but intrigued. Maine had two masters now, and was struggling with who to obey over the other. He sat back as the freelancer lost control of even his own mind, changing his very existence to one of obedience because, with Sigma sharing every thought, it was the only option.
Slowly, Maine forgot his old master, and never bothered to learn how to be doubtful of his new one.
AU, 1 and 8: Tucker and Tex
“What state name do you have?” Tex said, her eyebrow arching at this new recruit in front of her.
“State? I’m the United State of Tucker, baby. All lovin’, all night long!”
“So you’re not an agent, then?” she said in a giant mental sigh of relief. It still didn’t explain why he was in the common room, bothering her, while everyone else had inexplicably vanished. She looked at the man in front of her and scowled at the realization that North and York had practically run out of the room the moment she had heard Tucker’s voice down the hall.
“I’m an Agent of Loooove,” he said with what he obviously thought was a charming smile. Tex frowned at the failed attempt.
“This room is reserved for the freelancers, if you’re not-“
“Relax, babe. Agent New Jersey, at your service. You must be Texas. New girl, right? I can show you the ropes. Well. Some ropes, anyway. Bow chicka bow wow.”
Tex stared at him as he leaned on the table to inch closer to her. The very deliberate, very sudden vanishing act that everyone else had taken part in suddenly made a lot more sense.
queen-of-france asked: "Sometimes it's hard to say/ Even one thing true/ When all eyes have turned aside/ They used to talk to you/ And people on the streets seem to disapprove/ So you keep moving away/ And forget what you wanted to say/ Little bird/ Little bird/ Brush your gray wings on my head/ Say what you said/ Say it again/ They tell me I'm crazy/ But you told me/ I'm golden" - Tthe Weepies, "Little Bird"
Tex was his first. He looked at the others around him and saw how completely they integrated themselves with their hosts. Delta and York had that kind of banter that York has with everyone else. Wyoming and Gamma seemed to be best friends. Wash and Epsilon knew what the other would say before it was on their lips. So integrated. So together. As one.
He made an effort, with Tex. It took a long time but he managed to carve out a corner all of his own, to know what she’s thinking and to let her know what he’s thinking. He made the effort, even if every thought was unwelcoming.
When he moved to Caboose, the entire mind was open to him (and he really wished it wasn’t). Caboose didn’t know how to hide or lie or resist, so Omega took a place, willingly offered, and lived in this bizarre land without active hostility, but with plenty of shrugged-shoulders uncomprehending apathy. It was like a vacation.
Like every vacation, it eventually had to end. He wanted to go back to Tex at first because he’d worked so hard for that connection. For that living space. He’d fought the freelancer for months until she let him in, and her hatred of him only fueled his aggression for the world. He wanted to go back to Tex because, as messed up as it was, she was home.
Instead he got Doc.
Omega’s first reaction was to mentally scowl at the pacifist. His second was to realize how quickly Doc surrendered to him. This wasn’t like Tex, where he had to hang on just to withstand her, or Caboose, where he could just lie in wait until the man became distracted enough for him to take charge.
This was permission.
Omega had never tasted a drug so powerful. He didn’t carve at his host’s brain, he didn’t fight against his host’s pacifism. He was a person, and Doc was a person, but they shared one body. A body he could easily take charge of, whenever he wanted, and Doc would be content to sit back and let him.
It amazed Omega how easily this permission was given. Tex would never even dream of it, and Caboose would never even think of needing to give it (therefore denying it by default, in some twisted logic), but Doc offered it up, freely.
All Omega had to do was talk to him.
completelysane asked: "love is not a test or a trick of the mind", Wash/CT or Church/Tex (any or all iterations.)
When Wash’s mind forcibly offered up a specific memory of CT (or Connie, as it still was at the time), Church (or Alpha, or the ghost, or whoever he was at the moment) actually laughed.
“It’s not a competition,” Wash had said, frowning as Connie decided to take offense to his first confession of love. “I didn’t win by saying it first, Connie, that’s not why I said it.”
She just looked at him, hard, unyielding, and said with a sigh, “Everything’s a competition, Wash.”
That moment and the secret feeling of uncertainty and distrust it gave the three words when Wash finally did hear her say them back caused Church, in Wash’s head, looking through the freelancer’s life like a house guest prisoner with a family vacation photo reel, to laugh.
“What’s funny?” Wash asked, the edge to his voice obvious.
“Nothing, man,” Church said between breaths. “I just - I had a conversation like that once with someone.” He sobered up, the self-deprecating laughter gone, and added, “exactly like that.”
recoveryone asked: Red vs. Blue!
I already did Tucker for this, so instead I’ll show what I think Tex/Allison would look like :) Tiny nose, tiny mouth, looooong dark red hair that she usually wears up. (Also, eye shapes. I like her eyes flat on top and drooping down.
500fly asked: Are you still doing lyric prompts? or is that dead ... ? If you are, then: She's almost brighter than the sun / Seems to me to be unfair / When you consider everyone / Who pales when they compare.
There were only two scales of success in the project: the “Carolina scale” and the “everyone else” scale. It was easy to see how everyone found something to look up to in the red haired self-appointed leader; long before the scoreboards were even an idea, Connie (and everyone else) knew Carolina was already far beyond them all.
Connie (now CT) noticed Carolina’s face months later when the “Carolina scale” fell out of use in light of the “Texas scale”, CT noticed how her eye would twitch, just for a moment, and she’d decide to go work out earlier than usual, or say that she was tired, or hungry, or just needed a walk, just needed to be alone.
Relationship Case Studies
Characters: Wash, CT, York, Carolina, Church, Tex
Summary: There’s only one relationship Wash can really think of where it was just…right.
Rebageling (BEST. WORD.) because yeah, it’s nice to have all my fics under smei-haphazardly organized tags :)
she broke into his office once
she went to the drawer and took out the frame, pocketing the picture
it took him an hour to notice
she was going to give it back
after a good look
but that good look at the faded photo
turned into a good look at the mirror
and she held her tongue as he asked all of them about it
but the cameras had caught her
the picture was found
“why would you take this,” he asked
“it’s Allison,” she said simply
“I look like her”
“…yes. what a coincidence.”
RvB Song Prompt: Sweet Dream (by Greg Laswell)
If I could write out my own dream
For the next time that I sleep
He used to dream of her all the time, easily. He’d tell her with a smile that she’s much more agreeable in his dreams. She never threatens to shoot him. She always wants to cuddle. She’d laugh in that condescending, derisive way of hers and would reply “where’s the fun in that?”
Now she haunts his every waking moment, but rarely visits his dreams. Now he longs to hear her snide remarks as he enters deep sleep, wishing only for her to show up and clean her guns again, not pay attention to him again, be herself again. Because then maybe he can convince himself that reality isn’t real, and he can focus on his Allison in peace.
Maybe then he can be with her again.
You’d be the first one that I see
And I the last one that you keep
It wasn’t like Wash had never had a crush before. He had, he’d had plenty. But there was something about this girl - something beside her good looks and odd hair. Something about how she looked at people, really looked at them. Something about how she never took anything at face value, when that’s all he was ever taught to do.
This girl, this Agent Connecticut, she occupied his every free thought. In how she stood, in how she never liked her helmet, in how she’d smile at other people’s jokes, in her thirst to prove herself, in her desire to be the best, in her, in her everything.
It was only after it became the friendly “Connie” that she started to invade his dreams as well, these subconscious fantasies which didn’t involve kissing, or sex, just one very simple gesture. Her trust in him.
And the dream would go on and on
While we sway against all things thrown our way
Connie would never tell Wash she still dreamt about him sometimes. She still dreamt that he’d start listening to her, that he’d see what the Director was doing to them. She dreamt that he’d remember who she was. That he’d trust her again.
She dreamt that she could ignore the way he looks at Tex now, that she could chalk it up on something to do with his new AI.
She dreamt that he could tell her he loved her and she didn’t ever feel like he was constantly holding something back.
She dreamt she could give herself to him again, at least here, at least in her dreams, and maybe that’d make the harsh reality she had to live in bearable.
And the morning would be so cruel
When it came with sunshine and warmth to blame
Mornings were the worst for them.
York would get up and make her coffee, even if she never quite liked the stuff. She’d drink it anyway because he’d sit there like a little kid until she did, and she’d smile as he beamed at her halfhearted compliments.
She’d race into the shower while he’s busy riding the high from her praise and lock the door in laughter. Of course, it’d take him less time to unlock it than it did for him to turn the handle. He’d throw something at her - a towel, his shirt, something - and then they’d get in the shower together.
They never got much sleep the nights they spent together, but it was because they’d stay up late, talking, touching, hugging, chasing the morning away because morning meant the end.
Morning meant they had to leave this room and be Agent Carolina and Agent York, they had to be two separate, professional people. They had to not be touching, not be kissing, not be laughing.
They had to end their vacations from their lives.
For announcing the end of my sweet dream
“Does it bother you?” the Counselor asked in the soothing voice of his.
“No,” Tex said with a shrug. “It’s just weird.”
“Do you remember it happening before?”
“I remember having vivid dreams before. Very vivid. My mother used to say that I would invent my own reality because this one sucked.” She paused to laugh at this memory. “She used to say dreams were like a different universe. Just as real, just…different.”
“What did you dream about?”
“Usually it was just standard mission stuff. Bring the work home with me, you know? After a while, though, I started dreaming about…about the guy I was dating. Just, going on dates. That’s it. Complete with flowers and chocolates, even though all I ever did was make fun of him, and he gave it right back.” She realized distantly that from across the table, the Director has stopped writing on his pad but was avoiding eye contact. Next to him, the Counselor leaned forwards. “And then?”
“And then nothing. I don’t dream anymore. I haven’t since I got to this project.”
“It’s only been a few months-“
“Trust me. I used to dream every night.”
“You never mentioned that before,” the Director said from behind his paper and pen.
“Why would I mention something so common? You told me to tell you about problems, not about when life is going according to script.” She frowned at him slightly and he gave her that look, the odd one she caught him in sometimes. The one that always made her think he wasn’t looking at her, not really.
“I am sure it is merely temporary,” the Counselor stepped in again. “It must be part of adapting to your new environment. I wouldn’t worry about it, Agent Texas.”
“Right,” she said, unconvinced. “Sure.”
For announcing the end of my sweet dream
queen-of-france asked: "As she got nearer, she found a mirror that made her superfluous nature clear: the girl that's been there before" (and if you were wondering, almost all of my prompts are form Gaba Kulka songs.)
Tex walked in on the Director once, forgetting to knock on his office door, and found him staring at a picture. He tried to stash it away quickly, but she caught it, a glimpse of her own face in the frame. “No one you know,” he said hurriedly, but from that moment on all she could see reflected in his eyes when he looked at her was that picture of that woman, who was no one Tex knew.