[random rvb fic]

They’re outside Wyoming’s base when York asks her. She’d known he would ask sooner or later. Knew better than to bother hoping he’d keep quiet.

“Look, Tex,” he says, and there’s a little rasp to his voice, like he’s half-asleep or sick or something. “I know you’re gonna say no, but I gotta…I gotta ask. You heard anything about her?”

That little twinge of hope at the end — she almost mistakes it for pain. “No.”

“Yeah.” York turns away, Delta glowing silently at his left shoulder, watching her with all the wariness of a guard dog. 

It’s quiet for a minute or two, but York’s never been able to leave quiet alone.

“Do you ever think…” He stops, rubs at his helmet visor like it’s hurting him. “You ever just wonder sometimes, like if you’d been faster, or if you’d explained it better, then maybe she would’ve— I don’t know, maybe she’d be—” 

“I wonder all the time,” Tex interrupts, sharper than she’d intended. (He hadn’t seen her fall, he didn’t know how Tex had felt, watching her—)

York just looks at her for a moment, shoulders slumping. Then he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

Neither of them says anything for a long time after that. It stretches out too dark, too empty between them — this loss they have in common.

alifechasingghosts answered: York is dating Carolina and Mama Tex is overprotective of her baby girl.

           

“I noticed you’ve been spending a lot of time with that boy lately.” Tex’s voice was flat and even as she looked at her daughter across the table. Carolina leveled her gaze.

“His name is York,” she said coolly. “York. Y-O-R-K. I’ve told you about eight billion times now. You talked to him yesterday when he dropped me off.”

“So, do you have protection?” Tex said.

            “Protection from wha—” Carolina said, then her eyes widened and she leaned back from the table. “Oh my god please shut up.”

            “It’s important to be prepared,” Tex went on. “In case something…happens.”

            “Christ, Mom, I’m nineteen!” Carolina said, standing up.

            Tex kept talking heedlessly. “There are lots of contraceptives on the market these days, and—”

            “I KNOW SHUT UP,” Carolina said, bolting for her room.

            “DOES HE HAVE A GOOD JOB?” Tex yelled after her. “CAN HE SUPPORT A FAMILY?”

            “I’M NINETEEN,” Carolina yelled back, and slammed her bedroom door. She waited for a few moments before looking out the window. York waved up at her.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair?” he suggested, grinning.

She rolled her eyes and tossed him the rope.

“You know,” said York after he’d clambered through the window and flopped on her bed. “There are a lot of contraceptives on the market these days.”

Carolina stared hard at him. “Were you eavesdropping on my conversation?”

York blinked. “No. Sorta? Not on purpose, you guys are just loud!”

“I swear to god I will push you back out of that window.”

Episode whatever-number-this-is spoilers

Fridgelancer CrackFic: Part Two. The anthropomorphic, sad version.

The fridge on the Mother of Invention saw many things. It saw York raiding through its contents for midnight snacks, more frequently after the other freelancers started to become nonfunctional. It saw Wyoming, trying to store gourmet cheese in one of its drawers and raging when he found that York had eaten it all the night before. It saw Carolina, doing inventory and generally criticizing the fridge for not having enough healthy foods. It saw Wash with armfuls of apples and bananas that he attempted to fit in the produce drawers.

For a while it saw CT, who sometimes came to the kitchen just to sit and think because no one else would look for her there. Sometimes she would be upset and sit in the corner by the fridge with her arms around her knees and her shoulders trembling just a little, and the fridge would long to comfort her. But it could not, because it was a fridge. And soon it didn’t see her at all anymore.

It saw South, who punched a dent in it one day for reasons unknown. And North, who woke up sometimes in the middle of the night and just really, really wanted ice cream (or maybe Theta wanted it; he couldn’t tell anymore). Maine came by for these little fat free yogurts that he secretly ate, with flavors like luscious raspberry and red velvet delight.

And occasionally it glimpsed Tex, who wandered aimlessly through the ship every night because she did not need to sleep and could not find rest anyway.  

The fridge knew them all, or at least it knew the part of them that sought out its kitchen for whatever reason, and it grew fond of them. Even Wyoming with his raging, and Carolina with her criticism. It took good care of their yogurts and cheeses and apples and bananas. It wanted to speak to them, to tell them that it valued each of them dearly. But being a fridge, it was incapable of speech.

So it stood, cool and stable whenever they needed it, and gently hummed when they opened its doors.

chaotically-simple:

reeberry:

queen-of-france:

fantabulous12123:

What the lines were:

“Fall back agent Carolina.”
“You fall back.”

What was probably meant:

“Maine is probably dead maybe you should be concerned about that.”
“me me me”

“me me me”

“ME ME ME”

#let’s be hoinest here liek Tex would give a shit about Maine

Thank you.

I don’t think it’s fair to Carolina (a character that was visibly affected by the fact that Maine got shot, btw) to villainize (that should be a real word) her but leave Tex untouched and even read concern into her sentence.

What was probably meant is Tex is just as eager to please the Director as Carolina.  That’s the driving force of both their characters at this time in the story, so saying fall back is a challenge. It was Carolina’s job to lead the mission, and Tex just showed up hidden from the roster by the director. Of course they’re going to end up fighting neck to neck. Of course that’s the last conflict in the episode, and of course Tex wins out.

//cheers//

Thanks, Ree.

ichidou asked you:

CT and Tex!

A Gif that shows how I feel about the character:

Red vs Blue: Sarge + Tex

completelysane:

mumblybee asked you: “Be fair to me / I may drift a while / Were it up to me, you’d know why” - Beirut, “Port of Call”

“You made me weak.” Tex stalked across the grass, the nubs of her toes digging into the dirt and pulling up patches of grass. Excellent traction. Remember to make Simmons transplant grass later, see if he’ll do it. Sarge looked up from the engine he was tinkering with and met Tex’s gaze.

“What?”

“This body. It’s like a watered-down drink compared to the body I used to have, and you did that on purpose.”

“Maybe,” he mumbled.

“Fix me.”

“Is it just a point a’pride to ya, or is this some dastardly Blue scheme to try and run you in here again to take us out?”

Tex spread her arms. Servos whined a little. Could oil that right up when I try and fix her - no! Resist the Blue scheme! Tex said, “I demand good work. I don’t care about your stupid Blue versus Red battles.”

“Red vs Blue,” he muttered.

Her helmet seemed to glare as it caught the sun, but she just kept going with her thought. “And yeah. Pride.”

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Aaaaaaaaahhhhh. I love this. Great ending. The humor/seriousness balance was good, too.

Ten Short RvB Fics!

So I did this meme! Fics vary wildly but all are rated PGish with, y’know, the usual amount of cursing.

1. Write down the names of 10 characters.
2. Write a fic of fifteen words or less for every prompt, using the characters determined by the numbers. Do NOT read the prompts before you do step 1. (I totally did way more than 15 words for each prompt. More like 100 or so per prompt.)

1. York

2. Carolina

3. North

4. Connie

5. Wash

6. South

7. The Coffee Guy

8. Maine

9. Wyoming

10. Tex

First Time: 4 and 6 (Connie and South)

            Connie eyed the other two female recruits. The redhead seemed unconcerned with introductions; she was instead studying a manual intensely. They’d all been given one when they were officially inducted into the program. Connie held hers loosely in one hand.  The other woman, the one with choppy blond hair and these eerily light blue eyes, had shoved the manual haphazardly into her jeans pocket.

            “I’m South,” offered the blonde when she saw Connie looking.

            “South what?” Connie replied, and that was when things started to go sour.

Angst, 7 (Coffee Guy)

            Steve had always wanted to be a barista. His parents were underwhelmed and told him all the time that he ought to do something more useful with his life, but Steve never paid them any mind. He spent hours and hours experimenting with milk froth and sugar and different types of roasts, figuring out how to make the Perfect Latte. So what if he wasn’t solving world hunger or that whole war thing with the aliens or whatever? He was proud to be the best damn barista at Starbucks.

            He was so good, in fact, that they’d wasted no time in promoting him to their alternate location, Spacebucks. Steve couldn’t help but smile to himself as he set down the hall to deliver two beautiful mugs of coffee. After this, he was gonna write a letter to his mom and dad about his promotion to space barista. They’d have to be proud now.

AU, 1 and 8 (York and Maine)

            “Hey, buddy,” called York, giving Maine – or the Meta, or whatever he was now – a sardonic little wave. His other hand gripped tight to his pistol. “Nice to see you’re still rampaging around.”

            Maine-the-Meta turned slowly toward him, and Delta let out a stream of warnings so fast they were nearly incoherent.

            “York, fucking shoot him already,” Wash growled over the radio from wherever it was he’d taken cover.

            “Well that isn’t very nice, Wash,” York drawled, taking a step back as the Meta took one forward. “You’re ruining the class reunion.”

experimenting with first-person plural, Freelancer-style.

Order of Secession

-

We still sit alongside each other in the mess hall because it makes it feel like nothing’s changed – only it has changed, there’s more of us now, there’s Delta telling York nutritional information about the package of Oreos he’s decimating. (“One gram of protein. 95 milligrams of sodium. Thirteen grams of sugar. This substance is not recommended as fuel for athletic endeavours.”) York offers one to North who’s looking a little bit perplexed, because in his head Theta is murmuring a refrain that’s quickly getting tired (“What can I know what ought I to do what may I hope…”) but no less confusing. South’s there across from him, staring at the furrow between his brows like if she looks hard enough she’ll smooth the worry from his face just by being here. She watches his eyes because she wants him to look back, but he’s gazing past her at the wall. York puts the Oreo back.

            We are tired of talking past each other. We look to each other briefly, drowsily, trying to connect – but our glances always miss, because we are not really here the way we used to be. Our minds are caught in the webs of others and we did not expect this and so we have no escape plan.

We are used to there being plans.