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masterwords · 2 years

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Summary: A virus sweeps through the Morgan-Hotchner household.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: illness, snot, fevers, meds...but soft and fluffy.

Notes: This is fluff. Just some sickfic fluff set in the Chicago semi-retirement years. How each member of the household deals with it when they get the cold that's going around. All because I wanted to write about Hotch and Clooney, old men napping together. Clooney is the goodest boy and ageless, really. I've had this in my WIP folder forever and it's one of those not getting any better or any more of a plot scenario so...I cleaned it up and now I give it to you. Making room for some new WIPs!

** The Chicago Times Masterlist **

The first sneeze of the season was always a benchmark.

In Spring, it let them know the pollen was on the move and that the trees were calling to the bees to do their thing. Derek would pull out the Claritin first, choosing not to even mess with the itchy eyes one moment. Hotch, on the other hand, would wait. His system was already inundated by pills of varying shapes and sizes, medications that ranged from benign to downright sinister, so a stuffy nose and some dry itchy eyes were not the end of the world.

Virginia hadn't ever treated him too badly, but he was convinced that Chicago meant him harm. Still, he persisted with a handkerchief stuffed into his pocket and saline drops for his dry eyes. He could wear his glasses now without fear of ridicule...it was almost expected of a man in his position. They may have clashed with his suit and tie, but they were the perfect accessory for his sweaters and khakis.

So, the first sneeze of Spring didn't worry him much.

The first sneeze of Autumn, however, set off the alarm bells. It was almost always Jack first with Derek hot on his heels. Hotch and Hank were sitting ducks, waiting for whatever germs the two of them brought home to fully culture inside their walls.

“Already?” Hotch asked, watching Derek rummage through the medicine cabinet for that damn box of DayQuil he knew was in there. “It's awfully early in the school year for this.”

“Tell that to my students. Jackson was puking in the trash can at football practice last night, Burkhardt was spitting loogies all over the damn field and where the fuck is my DayQuil?”

Hotch didn't even look up from the stack of papers he was grading. “Top shelf, right. Behind the contact solution.” His classes didn't start until 11, he really didn't even need to be up yet. Derek, on the other hand, should have been out the door a half hour ago and was certainly going to be late.

“It's not there.”

Hotch hummed. “Check under the sink, maybe you need to open a new package.”

Sick days were a menace at best. Everyone was grouchy, not a kind word in sight. Jack trudged around the house with kleenex shoved up his nose like walrus tusks and insisted on staying home while simultaneously refusing to actually rest. A nap was out of the question, which was a cause for more than one argument when Hotch demanded to know why he wouldn't nap when he was sick but he was nearly impossible to get out of bed in the mornings. Tensions ran high. To top it all off, his kleenex never quite seemed to make it to a trash can and Hotch found himself walking around picking up wads of the stuff from every surface of the whole house, scarcely wanting to imagine the state of the kid's room. That task he made Jack deal with on his own. He had his limits.

Derek was terrible at being sick. The minute he had a sniffle, he was grouchy. Angry at his body's betrayal. “Why do I workout so much, huh? Drinkin' those nasty green smoothies every damn day and for what? Huh?” Punctuate that with a cough or a sneeze and he was a mess. Hotch would only find it in him to smile, to press the back of his hand to Derek's fevered forehead and tell him to sleep it off.

“You always fight it off faster when you sleep,” Hotch said, guiding him toward the bed. “Take the day off.”

“I can't.” Cough, cough, wheeze. “We've got varsity tryouts today. I got some real boneheads thinkin' they're gonna make it and that damn assistant coach they gave me this year is a bleeding heart.” Sneeze. “He'll tell 'em all they got the job just to avoid the talk.”

Hotch had to smile at that. Derek had been complaining about his assistant coach since the summer, but he was a nepotism hire so Hotch understood and there wasn't anything he could do short of taking on twice the work himself so he could save himself the trouble on the back end. Unfortunately that meant going to work sick, pumping himself full of Sudafed and DayQuil at what he deemed to be safe intervals though Hotch had other opinions on the matter.

“Go lie down, I'll make you some tea. At least go in late. Take a half day.”

Thoughtfully, Derek considered the option. He was already late. Tryouts weren't until 4 anyway. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah...good idea.” He slept all day, right on through the tryouts, and didn't have enough energy to be upset about that when he finally did wake. Hotch stuffed him full of tea with honey, vitamins, extra water and a few more kisses right to the top of his head before leaving him to sleep.

He slept on the couch that night, his final attempt to stave off the germs. Clooney slept behind his knees, curled up in a ball there.

It only took a few days before Derek and Jack were on the mend, were carrying around the last of the dry coughs and stuffy sinuses. They would wake up in the morning and hack hack hack, then be fine by the time their showers were over.

Being the newest kid on the block, it only took a few days to take Hank the Tank down entirely. After that, Hotch knew it was only a matter of time before he followed suit. His immune system would fight the longest and crash the hardest. If you looked at most of the scattered pill bottles in their medicine cabinet, you would see plenty that read with simple, off-putting language like do not consume with alcohol, or may cause drowsiness, but then you would stumble on that token few that claimed that they might make it harder to fight off infections. He did a damn good job of not getting them in the first place, at least until now...until Hank. But he couldn't resist the little guy and his weepy eyes and snotty nose, his fevered skin and damp curls. Hank would hold his arms out and beg to be held by Hotch and Hotch alone, and what could he do but say yes and scoop him up? How do you tell a squishy little two-year-old no when all they want is a hug (and to rub their snot all over you)?

“You're toast,” Derek muttered, breezing through the room to try and find his slacks. The nice ones. He had meetings all morning with athletic scouts, setting up dates and times for them to come and check out his players. “You know that right?”

Hotch nodded and pressed his cheek into Hank's curls, closing his eyes. He was well aware that he was absolutely in for it. Didn't stop him from kissing Hank's forehead and humming little songs to him while the kid drooled all over his t-shirt.

Waking at 2am with the chills wasn't exactly out of place, except when he was buried beneath three blankets already. He pushed further beneath the covers and huddled there, basking in Derek's warmth, until he fell back asleep.

Waking at 7am dizzy, unable to focus his eyes...that one was a little more concerning. Swiping one hand over the nightstand, he found his glasses and that helped tremendously with one of the problems. It did nothing to ease the swaying dizzy feeling as he sat himself up, but at least he could see. “Derek?” he asked, pawing at the bed behind him until he touched the lump of blankets that he presumed was his lover. “Derek?”

“Mmmfff...” Derek grumbled, his face deep in a pillow. “Mmf?”

“I need your help, please.”

He'd gotten good at that, recently. Asking for help. One of the stipulations, agreed upon up front, like forging a treaty between warring villages. Derek wouldn't put up with him collapsing, excusing himself to do so, not again. No more avoidable scares. And Derek, to his credit, took every plea for help with alacrity. He never so much as batted an eyelash at it, he would drop everything to come and he always did so with a brightness that made Hotch feel at ease no matter what situation he found himself in.

This morning was no different. The minute he said the word help, Derek was sitting upright rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “What's up baby?”

“I need to use the bathroom,” Hotch started, a little sheepishly. “But I'm too dizzy to stand.”

“Hank the Tank's cooties got you, huh?”

“Looks like it.”

With Hotch settled against his side, hand possessive and firm against his hip, Derek walked them to the bathroom. He nudged Clooney's sleeping form out of the way and flipped on the light. The bathroom was always warmer than the bedroom, a fact that was not lost on Clooney and his old bones. By the time Hotch was leaning against the sink, staring into his pale and drawn features reflected back at him, he wasn't feeling quite so bad. The dizzy feeling had all but passed.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and Derek took that as his cue to leave him to his business. Clooney had taken up residence on the bed in the warmth they'd vacated, he noted with some sourness, when he exited the bathroom. Hotch wouldn't mind. He'd call in sick and spend the day in bed with the dog now that he was the only one sick in the house. Everyone else would leave, let them to their peace and quiet. Two old men who genuinely adored hearing the creaks of a settling foundation over loudly talking voices. The hum of a refrigerator over music. The whistle of wind through their sparsely treed yard over the television. They love their family, but in times like this, quiet was the best medicine. Hotch was willing to ask for help, but he still wanted to be by himself when he didn't feel well.

“You call in?” Derek asked, bringing Hotch tea in bed. Hotch nodded and shifted his hips, trying to get comfortable around the deeply settled ache in his joints. He was radiating heat. Derek had already taken his temperature once, not alarmingly high yet but he'd take it again when he came home from work...or maybe he'd send his mother over to check on him in a few hours. She would have Hank for the day anyway.

“Go to work, I'll be fine.”

Clooney was lying beside him, the length of his back firm against the length of Hotch's side. Pressed in heavy. Hotch let one hand rest on Clooney's chest, against his ribs, delighting in the gentle rise and fall of the sleeping animal's breath.

“Your nurse is sleeping on the job.”

“He does that.” Hotch didn't cough, and he didn't sneeze. The cold settled deep into his sinuses and his chest, but only made everything ache and feel tight. Like he was pulling in on himself and expanding to his limits all at the same time. His skin hurt and his eyebrows hurt and his head hurt. More or less, everything hurt. It made his ears get stuffy, for a few days his hearing would be shot.

But there was no snot, and he considered that a win.

There was a time in his life when he would have pushed through, gone to work, pretended he was okay. He'd moved through one of the worst cases of his life feeling as bad as this once upon a time. He'd come face to face with George Foyet, handed him his glasses and told him that they'd catch The Reaper...he'd hung up on the man in his own hotel room...all with a fever high enough to warrant medical attention, and he'd watched Derek hold up the bullet intended for his head while that fever broke and left him chilled to the bone and hoping no one could tell he was sweating it out. Of course, Derek knew, had confronted him after, a fact that later led to their current ask for help agreement. Well, one of many facts. His life was a list of such occasions, such learning experiences.

You can teach an old dog new tricks, he thought hazily, his eyes heavy and unfocused as Derek kissed him on the forehead and told him he'd see him later. Maybe, maybe not. He intended to sleep well into the next century, the way he felt right then. Tired didn't even begin to cover it, and he dozed off thinking of every word in every language he knew that could account for how tired he was. None came close. Probably, he thought as he lost his battle with conscious thought, there was a phrase in German that would perfectly sum it up. Something about being so tired your bones ached, that would do.

He wouldn't remember that when waking. A pity, too.

Fran delivered chicken soup to him, secret Morgan family recipe that she claimed could kick any virus' patootie, and kept an eye on him while she cleaned up their house. It didn't really need much, they kept things tidy, but they didn't get into all of the cracks and crevices. She could do that to keep herself occupied while she waited for Derek to return home. Hotch and Hank slept soundly, flanking Clooney, all afternoon and well into the evening without stirring. It was Hank that woke first, hungry and weepy. His cold was mostly gone but he was crying a lot more than usual, and exhausted.

Hotch only woke once to sit up, wonder at the fuzzy face of the clock, trying to reason out the numbers that blurred one into the other. Deciding it wasn't of any real importance because he didn't plan to do anything other than roll over, he adjusted himself to the other hip, curled around Clooney, and went back to sleep.

“You have a lovely family,” Fran said, pulling Derek in for a hug before leaving for the night. “I adore each of you very much. But if I get sick...”

“You're sending me the bill. Got it.”

She patted him on the cheek and smiled up at him. “Good boy. I love you dear.”

“Love you too, moms.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jack hotchner #hank morgan #hotchgan #hotch x morgan #aaron hotchner x derek morgan #sickfic #FLUFF #criminal minds #fanfiction

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catalists · 3 years

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not quite a WIP Wednesday since (a) I don’t think I’m going to finish the story this scene belongs to, but I like it too much to let it languish in my folders forever and (b) it’s not Wednesday. but the middle of the week is always busy for me, so please enjoy ~800 words of a Mighty Nein modern AU where Molly reunites with his fuck-up friends and struggles to fit in because they are not fuck-ups anymore.

(not to say I’ll definitely never ever write more, but it’s below too many other projects to expect that to be soon.)

---

After four days of vague text responses, Molly took matters into his own hands. Jester had grown up a lot, but she was still painfully easy to manipulate, and it didn’t take much finagling to get her to drop the name of the café that Caleb frequented. It was an obnoxious bus ride to the area of the city around the university campus, but worth it when he tracked down The Melville. The building had large windows with green awnings and couldn’t seem to decide between a charmingly rustic aesthetic and an inexplicable nautical theme—the dark wood sign had a whale painted on it.

Inside, the place was well-lit both through overhead hanging lamps and the sunlight through the glass, and it was at a table illuminated by the afternoon sun that Molly finally saw Caleb Widogast again.

Caleb was handsome, Molly thought without consciously willing it. He’d always known Caleb was capable of it, of course, but back when Molly had known him he really hadn’t put in the effort—he’d always been vaguely grubby with an overgrown beard and ill-fitting clothes. Molly had found him attractive, but in a more ignorable way.

It was…less ignorable now. He wasn’t clean-shaven, but his beard was neatly trimmed. His long hair—redder than Molly remembered, although he wasn’t sure if that was his memory or more evidence of past dirt—was tied back in a neat ponytail. Molly recognized absolutely none of his clothes—he wasn’t even wearing the filthy duster he’d refused to be parted from, but instead a handsome purple coat in the Xhorhassian style.

The one thing that hadn’t changed was that Caleb was reading and paying no attention to his surroundings. Molly made it all the way across the café to him and stood across the table—he would have sat, but there was no chair opposite Caleb.

“I was going to ask if this seat was taken,” Molly drawled, “But you don’t seem to have one.”

“You can take the chair,” Caleb said distractedly.

“Someone already has.”

“What?” Caleb finally looked up, and did a double take. “Molly?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Molly said. “You’re in the group chat. I’m devastated you haven’t come to see me yet.”

“I am sorry,” Caleb said. “It’s a busy time of year.”

“At the university, so I’ve heard,” Molly said. “You did make it back to school, then?”

“Yes,” Caleb said, and smiled. “It has been—very good. Yes.”

“And yet you’re sitting here without company,” Molly said. “Let me alleviate that.”

“Ah, my company is coming,” Caleb said, apologetically.

“Let me join you, then,” Molly said. “Who is it? Jester?”

“Maybe another time,” Caleb said, surprisingly firmly. It almost distracted Molly from the fact that he hadn’t answered the question.

“You don’t want to see me?” Molly pouted. “Caleb, it’s been four days! I’m beginning to think you never liked me at all.”

“I do like you,” Caleb said. “But I am meeting someone else right now. It has been a very long time.”

“All the more reason to catch up,” Molly said. “Let me grab a chair.”

“I do not mean to interrupt you,” a new voice said, just behind Molly, “But Professor Widogast has regularly scheduled office hours, if you are looking for assistance.”

Molly spun around and was immediately rendered speechless. The man behind him was a drow—a rare enough sight that he would have garnered attention even if he wasn’t strikingly beautiful. His white hair was cut short enough that you could see the silver rings in his ears. He wore a dark coat that covered most of his body, and fingerless gloves. Both hands rested lightly on the wheels of his chair, a subtle indication that he expected Molly to move out of the way.

Molly stepped aside, on some kind of autopilot, and the man wheeled himself forward into the gap.

“That’s why you didn’t need a chair,” Molly said, snapping his fingers.

“Indeed,” the drow said.

“I will see you later, Molly,” Caleb said.

“You won’t introduce me?” Molly gasped. “How rude.”

“Ah, Essek, this is my old friend Mollymauk, who cannot take a hint. Molly, you have now met Essek Thelyss. He is a professor of astrophysics here.”

“Pleasure,” Molly said. He made to take Essek’s hand, but he withdrew it; the motion was so subtle that Molly wasn’t entirely sure he’d meant it as a rebuff.

He clasped his hands behind his back and inclined his head in a subtle bow. “It is always a pleasure to meet a friend of Caleb’s.”

“Don’t be so quick to say that with this one,” Caleb said, with a smile.

“I’d love to get to know you,” Molly said, because he wasn’t not going to flirt just because he didn’t know the man. “But Caleb seems to want me to be on my way…”

He’d meant to nudge Essek into telling Caleb it was fine if he stayed, but once again Essek either didn’t pick up on the cue or deliberately ignored it.

Instead, Essek said, “I am sure I will see you again, if you are anything like the rest of your friends,” and looked at Caleb.

The pieces fell into place. “Is this a date?” Molly wanted to know. “Am I interrupting a date?”

Neither of them answered immediately, but Caleb flushed.

#mollymauk tealeaf #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #cr fanart #shadowgast #critical role #snippet #widomauk #which is a bit one-sided so I'm putting the tag down here

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berena-cpr · 3 years

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Unfinished Masterpieces - Fic Rec List

Remember the WIP on ao3 you can’t let go? The one that resonated with you? The one that you’d give anything to know how it ends?

While the Berena Creative Project Resuscitation event is all about starting to work again on projects sitting in our draft folders, life can get in the way of finishing a project for a hundred reasons.

These works, posted, but still a few chapters short of ending, are loved though and with this list we’d like to share the love for the unfinished masterpieces one can find in the Berena tag on ao3.

Given the high response we had when we asked to tell us about your favourite WIPs, you’ll find the list under the cut:

Anything Else to Declare? - LittleMissO

“I've personally had sleeping issues since I read LittleMissO's Anything Else to Declare because yeah, I'm still there, breath held and heart pounding like crazy after the most delicious slow burn, and pining, and that outrageously flirtatious conversation over a whiskey.”

that line between your heart and mine - ktlsyrtis

“it is just plain hot but also I love the idea of them writing letters to each other and I also love the exploration of what their relationship might be like with Bernie still being in the RAMC.”

you disappear like your cigarette smoke (now the taste of your kiss is all that remains) - bonnissance

“A wonderful, emotional angst filled fic, looking at how Bernie’s life might still have progressed after Serena left. I loved how it showed her testing her own boundaries to see if it was possible to find another relationship with someone else and when she found that wasn’t something she could do, she accepted it and found other ways to be happy without Serena. I reread it fairly often because although unfinished it doesn’t ever seem incomplete. But the last word “Serena” always leaves me full of a hope that I would dearly love to have fulfilled.”

Secrets in the Dark - Wonko

“I’d love to see this continued!”

For a Good Time Call - Regency

“Young Serena using that pure sex voice of hers to make a little extra as a phone sex operative, and young nervous Bernie taking the first tentative steps in exploring her sexuality. Who better than Serena to help her figure things out? The premise of the fic is ingenious, the writing amazing, the dialogue just outstanding. Hot, sexy, soft and full of compassion and feels. I would sell a kidney to read the next chapter to this – Bernie and Serena meeting years later and recognising each other’s voices.”

you're the only one I never looked for - gutsandglitter

“Never expected I'd enjoy a Baby Boom AU, but I love this fic. Serena hanging out in the country feeling extremely overwhelmed and constantly running into this weird tall, awkward woman named Bernie is a mood. I will forever hold out hope for an update so that I can someday read about them having lots of sex (after an appropriate amount of angst, miscommunication, and unexpected grocery store encounters, of course).”

Things Kayryn doesn't write - Kayryn

“So they’re not exactly unfinished, because they are complete, beautifully crafted, amazingly inventive, head canons, but they’re not completed fic’s so I’m counting them. I actually think that’s one of the lovely things about them, there’s a full story in there but enough space in them to bring your own imagination to the details. The fact that every head canon is spot on and you can completely image it happening is the icing on the cake, and the perfect characterisation is the cherry on top. Canon could have taken lessons from from Kayryn”

I Want to be Your Fantasy (Maybe You Could Be Mine) - Regency

“I just love the concept and the first chapter just pulled me in and I so very much want to know what happens next.”

Notting Hill - Bat_and_Breakfast

“All the “Rom Com idiots in love but they don’t know it miscommunication capers” re-envisaged for Berena you say? Sign me up! I love the way the plot of Notting Hill is absolutely recognisable, but never at the expense of Bernie and Serena’s characters. Everything they do, their responses, the dialogue, is so them. And the cleverly cast Holby regulars as supporting stars - genius. It’s an absolute triumph of transformative work. It’s wonderfully and engagingly written. If you’ve ever got sucked into watching “just a bit” of rom com and found you’ve just lost a couple of hours of your life - this fic does the same thing.”

Follow Me There - troiing

“Full disclosure: I’ve never watched Sanctuary and I know nothing about the characters. But this crossover fic is so good, that it doesn’t even matter.”

hold me closer (tiny dancer) - serenacampbell

“I don’t know why I’m so attached to that fic, but I am. I love the premise of a slow burn fic where the characters still get to do sexy things during the awkward slow burn oblivious period. It’s like the best of both worlds.”

Machu Pechinku - Jrnsaxa

“Forget France and Nepal, what if Serena spent her sabbatical in Peru? The setting in this is beautifully vivid, as is the the delicate ways in which Serena and Bernie start to reconnect after Elinor.”

Hello, Major - lesbianquill

“This is a near perfect Serena being fixated on Bernie in fatigues fic. The first chapter is very insightful, helping us to understand why Bernie might not be happy to accede to Serena’s small kink/obsession. That of course doesn’t last for too long because Bernie loves Serena and she loves having sex with Serena. It was offered as a smutty one shot, but then they rewarded us with an even smuttier second chapter and teased us with the news that a third chapter would be forthcoming. It never happened. Main reason for wishing it could be continued? I enjoy well-written smut.”

In the Spirit of Three Stars - alwayssomethingelse

“Bernie and Serena as Federation officers on Deep Space Nine. Oh, the potential!”

Anatomically Correct - phantomunmasked

“Bernie severely overcompensating for any possible awkwardness in their first time by ordering a mountain of sex toys is a premise that will always delight me. Every time I go back to this one, I ponder what their weekend away would bring with a big grin.”

The Clinic - RexWolfe

“Maybe it’s all the Bramwell we’ve been watching, but this one’s been on my mind lately. Can’t go wrong with a Victorian AU.”

a life in pictures - Regency

"I soooo want to see Serena maybe modelling for Bernie (or at least just how the date goes)”

working up a storm inside my head - sevtacular

“While this isn’t actually an unfinished fic in the sense of chapters missing, the prompt fic collection of Sev can always be added to as far as I’m concerned. Love what has been written so far, hope there will be new chapters with time.”

Body and Soul - ChalkHillBlue

“Possibly the weirdest AU idea ever, this body swap AU makes my brain go crazy with the possibilities every time I read it.”

When We Need One Another The Most - Whispersmummy

“I know this isn’t strictly Berena but it wouldn’t have been written if not for the Berena fandom who love most every conceivable way these two dorks might get together. Very well written (imo) and cleverly constructed fic. Lots and lots of angst and who doesn’t love angst? Only thing missing is a small amount of smut. (Yes I’m back there).”

Ring In The New - fiveroundsrapid

“Fics where Bernie comes to Holby before/during Adrienne’s illness are my kryptonite, and this one is so good!”

Holby One: A Star Wars AAU Story - elitryalittle

“Holby One is my favorite unfinished fic. It’s not just because I came to Berena via Star Wars (a bit of an unusual way, but here I am), but also because I can totally see Serena as a healer and Bernie as a Jedi knight. Kudos for their excellent knowledge of the SWU and this great idea of a crossover fic. I’d give them a limited edition “Looking for Leia” patch and a sticker if they’d finish it.”

to gaze at you, from afar (I sigh, I sigh, I sigh) - bonnissance

“The photographer/model AU you never knew you needed in your life, but you really, really do.”

Heroic Endeavor - Nicolaruth27

“I never would’ve thought I’d be down for a Greek god AU, but this fic has permanent residence in a corner of my brain. Bernie as Athena in mortal form is inspired, and the way the fic is interwoven with canon is a delight.”

what a lovely way to burn - ktlsyrtis

“I just love anything that's weaved into canon but with them being happy and dating and communicating."

Love, Unexpected - Igerna

“Bernie is still married to Marcus when she meets Serena during a conference. They immediately bond and keep in contact, sharing both professional advice and thoughts on their private lives. Love, for them, happens rather unexpectedly. I do love conference fics and slow burns - and this is a good one.”

a little less war torn - kitnkabootle

“The setup for this - in which Serena is the one who goes to help when Bernie is brought to Holby, instead of Raf - is one of my favorite ‘what ifs’ to ponder, and the writing is outstanding.”

#berena #bernie wolfe #serena campbell #holby city #berena cpr #fic rec

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mscolorsplash · 5 years

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This has been sitting in WIP folder for ages.

Its finally done! I haven't draw these gals/guy in a while so here ye go! this is honestly a revisit from this old mane 6 pic I did forever ago

I did this sketch when the show ended just haven't had the will to finish it.

Mlp will always be in my heart and ill never stop loving it!

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assassinsuit · 7 years

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Man I cant remember the last time i spent so much effort on one drawing. And I can STILL see things that could be fixed. But it’s time to give it a rest. Anyway, here’s my (New) New Vegas OC Broc Flower. I’ve got quite a bit I want to say about him so I’m gonna leave that under a cut.

Since i’ve started playing Fallout (which was actually a year ago as of last Friday, I just found out!) the series has brought me endless amounts of joy and (approximately) a thousand hours of gameplay. I’ve never experienced a love for a game like this before and I don’t think its going to be something that ill forget any time soon. As I have a tendency to just “play as myself” in games that allow for that kind of thing so for awhile I didn’t really bother getting creative. Which is odd as I am the type of person to think “lets make an OC” as soon as i get into something new and Fallout is a platform that very much encourages that type of thinking. It wasn’t until more recently that I decided that I wanted to create a character for this series but I could never nail down something I was happy with. (my wip folder is chalk full of scrapped ideas for this.) Then I realized that it would probably be best to just go with what was working already. Broc Flower is a character I created using both elements from myself and the multitude of dead end ideas I had sitting around and now I think i’m in a very comfortable place with him.

Now that that’s out of the way, allow me to tell you about his backstory. Broc Flower is a Khan boy whos adopted mother always told him that she “found him abandoned, yet seemingly protected by the tall stalks of Broc Flowers” He always found this just a little too fantastical to be completely believable but its not like he had much else to go on. Growing up in a post-apocalyptic desert tends to kill the magic, even for the children. It wasn’t until some time after her passing (this happened when he was around age 16-17) that he learned the truth from Papa Khan himself as Broc Flower had pleaded for Papa to tell him. It had turned out that his mother and multiple other khans whom she had been surviving with since their distruction at the hands of the chosen one, fueled by drugs and a lust for a return to the khan lifestyle, had succsessfully attempted to raid a traveling caravan. They murdered everyone traveling in the caravan including a small family save for the child who was no more than a year old. She took the child back with her, despite the protest of her peers. Not long after this, the Khans had finally settled and had begun raiding and pillaging once again comfortably from the ruins of las vegas. She however, refused to take part in that as she only wanted to care for her child. She would no longer take any kinds of drugs or medications as her trust for the other Khans had begun to dwindle. She began to feel great remorse for the things she had done and no longer felt at home with the Khans. She knew she no longer wanted that lifestyle and yet she stayed with them as she had no place else. Papa Khan did his best to support her by showing her how to make natural medicines and would offten accompany her when going out into the wastes for ingrediants. Even as she got on in years she would venture out to find broc flower and xander root. Broc flower had very fond memories of gathering these with her when he was younger.

Not long after his learning of this truth, was the Bitter Springs Massacre. Broc Flower, of corse living in Bitter Springs with the rest of the Khans at the time was present for this. Though he was able to assist a few during the attack he of corse was powerless in the grand scheme. He lost many friends and aquaintences that day and as the Khans picked themselves up and migrated to red Rock, Broc Flower chose not to follow. It was then he decided it was time to escape, as it was clear to him now that the Khans just weren’t a society that was built to last. So he departed for the wasteland, off to find meaning and hope elsewhere. He would not be gone forever though; the Khans were still his family, and he would never forget that.

He gathered what was left of his supplies, and his weapon of choice- an old Varmint rifle that he fitted with a silencer and scope. Then disguised himself as a civilian and took up work with the Mojave Express in hopes that it would allow him to see more, do more, and meet more people. During his travels he meets and falls in love with a man named Niner.

Now I should probably tell you what hes actually like as a person. Hes quite soft spoken, yet assertive. (Paladin Ramos makes a good comparison.) Growing up the way that he did, essentially living the life of a raider child, He lacks people skills. Murdering, stealing and using hard drugs, at such a young age no less, tends to do that to people. Though He’s not shy. One of the things he loves most about traveling is getting to meet interesting people of the wasteland. (Exhibit A being Niner.) He’s also a bit awkward, being quite nosy at times and every once and awhile forgetting personal space. This kind of thing ranges anywhere from standing just a little too close when speaking to somebody, to wiping the dirt and dust off of people he hardly knows the name of in a very motherly fashion. One of his favorite hobbies is salvaging old guns that he finds and then using those guns to harass giant bugs from a distance. During his raiding days he would always tinker with the guns and gadgets that he pillaged, becoming very good at fixing them up and salvaging what was beyond repair for the parts. For awhile he was the Khans go-to weapons guy, up-keeping their weapons in exchange for whatever they had to trade. Weather that be caps, drugs, fruits or even more spare scraps. While he is quite knowledgeable about guns and survival, he’s not great at reading or writing, but he gets by. He’s Yes Man aligned as he strongly dislikes both the NCR and the Legion and doesn’t see the point in giving Mr house full control when he has the opportunity to do it himself. (with yes mans help.)

And that’s about all I’ve got right now. If you read all of this I love you very much. Bye.

#Fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout oc #my art #txt #He certainly needs more tweaking and fleshing out but i think this is a good jumping off point!#Broc Flower tag

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magicalrocketships · 7 years

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Did you ever write that canon!single teen dad Louis???

I never finished it but it’s still sitting in my WIP folder as something I might pick up in the future. However, here’s what I have, which is basically 4000 words of canon teen dad Louis :))

The first time Liam hears that Louis Tomlinson is a dad, they're at Boot Camp, and Louis is doing three things all at once: a) pinching Niall Horan's nipples, b) hanging backwards off the back of a sofa and managing to keep himself from falling by what looks like sheer force of will, and c) singing How To Save A Life at the top of his lungs.

"How on earth can you be a dad," Niall snorts, batting Louis away. "Stop that. Leave my nipples alone."

"I am a spectacular dad," Louis says, in satisfaction. He goes for Niall's balls this time, and topples backwards off the sofa. "I am the best dad in the world."

Liam thinks there must be a joke he's not getting, because Louis isn't old enough--or mature enough--to be a dad. Louis refuses to get enough sleep and is always messing about and pushing people around, and Liam can't quite separate Louis' laughter from that of the boys at school, who'd spent much of the last six years pushing Liam around quite gleefully.

"You're a nightmare," Niall says, poking Louis in the side, and Louis beams up at him from where he's sprawled across the floor.

"Thank you, Niall. You are now second choice to be my personal husband for the rest of forever. After Harry Styles, obviously."

Niall just laughs at that, and tugs Louis to his feet.

~*~

They get put together in a group at the end of Boot Camp, and Liam isn't quite sure whether that's the worst idea anyone's ever had, or potentially the greatest idea yet. The other lads he quite likes; Zayn is quiet but likes comics, like Liam. Niall is really great and very funny and seems to like Liam a lot, which Liam is uncertain about, but rather appreciates. Harry is nice to everyone, and has this smile that makes people melt--Liam included, but only a little bit--but Louis is an enigma. Louis is loud and sharp and bright, and he makes Liam feel stupid and young and awkward. Louis is used to getting his own way by being the loudest, but Liam won't let him mess this up for them. He's failed once, and he's not going to let it happen again. He's quiet and dogged and he knows it's not exactly going to make Louis like him any the more, but their future is at stake here, and Liam isn't about to let Louis ruin that for them.

Even if Louis does call him a stick in the mud and no fun and boring. It'll be worth it.

~*~

Liam almost forgets that Louis might be a dad, until Louis goes missing half way through the live shows. He just disappears one afternoon, and nobody can find him, and Liam watches as people start to get more and more worried. He and Louis aren't exactly best friends, but they've been getting on better the past couple of weeks. So much better, in fact, that he's even prepared to admit that there's a side to Louis that he keeps quite well hidden, that there's more to him that just the loud and brash exterior; the extrovert who loves to be the centre of attention.

"He was missing Kit," Harry confides after a couple of hours. There's a furrow in between his brows. "I knew he was, but I didn't say anything. And now he's gone."

"Who?" Liam says distractedly.

"Kit," Harry says again, but slower this time, in case Liam's stupid, instead of just ill-informed.

"Kit," Liam says, none the wiser. "All right."

~*~

Louis turns up the following morning, driven down from Doncaster by his mum, and when he sheepishly arrives in the rehearsal room--where Liam is distressed to admit that they can't function without Louis there to centre them--he's carrying a little boy on his hip.

Oh, Liam thinks.

"This is Kit," Louis says, a little shyly. Liam has never seen Louis be the least bit shy, over anything. Ever. He's known him a good few weeks now; Liam doesn't like to be wrong about people.

"Hi, Kit," Harry says, immediately swooping in to make extremely silly faces in Kit's general direction. Niall is trying to hug Louis round the baby, and Zayn's hovering about with a grin on his face, waving a bit awkwardly in Kit's general direction.

Because Kit is real. Louis Tomlinson--who is the most confusing person Liam's ever, ever met--has a little boy.

"How old is he?" Liam asks abruptly.

Louis looks over Harry's shoulder at him. "Thirteen months," he says. He turns his attention back to his baby. "Well, thirteen months and one week. That's right, isn't it, little one? That week matters a lot when you're this tiny."

Kit has dark hair just like Louis', and it sticks up a bit at the front like a hedgehog. He's holding on very tightly to a toy train and a stuffed lion. He's showing Harry both of them, babbling a string of nonsense words.

"Absolutely," Harry agrees, nodding a lot. Zayn's nodding too. "We completely agree, Kit."

"I was worried about you," Liam says, a little awkwardly. "Why'd you run off?"

Louis goes a bit red. "Just missed home," he says. "Sorry."

"Tell us next time," Zayn says, and he leans over to ruffle Louis' hair. "We've all been dead worried about you."

"Promise," Louis says. He looks tired and rumpled, and he's wearing his glasses, his hair sticking out from underneath a beanie. "I just missed him." He kisses the top of Kit's head, and Kit turns his attention from Harry and Zayn to Louis instead.

"Dada," he says, holding out his lion. "Dada, Dada, Dada."

"Where's his mum?" Liam asks, because apparently word vomit is going on his CV from today onwards.

Louis makes a face. "Not around," he says. "She doesn't live in Doncaster."

"Oh," Liam says. "Sorry."

Louis just shrugs, cheeks pink.

"Don't you dare run away again," Niall says. "Come on, are you going to let Uncle Niall have a hold of the baby? Come on, little guy." Niall takes him from Louis, and walks him over to the window. "Uncle Niall wants to tell you all about the best football team in the world."

Louis is being hugged to pieces by Harry. "Donny Rovers," he yells, but Niall makes a face.

"Derby, Kit. Let Uncle Niall tell you all about Derby."

"Is the baby staying?" Liam asks, and he could kick himself for the way Louis' face closes down immediately.

"No," Louis says shortly. "He's going back home with my mum."

"Sorry," Liam says. He feels like he's on the outside. "I didn't mean--"

"It's okay," Louis says. "Don't worry. My baby isn't going to cause problems for you."

"I didn't mean that," Liam says, in a small voice, but it's too late for that now. Louis is facing away from him, still hugging Harry, and it feels like all that work they'd done in trying to understand each other has been for nothing, because now they feel further apart than ever.

~*~

Louis is a bit quieter off-camera after that. He Skypes home a lot, and Liam gets used to walking in to find Louis' laptop open and one of Louis' sisters on screen with Kit in their lap, or his mum singing nursery rhymes to Kit with Louis joining in. When he says goodbye, Louis always looks sad, and kind of lonely, like there's a part of him missing. Liam feels sorry for him for about thirty seconds, which is as long as it takes for Louis to switch back into monster mode, and about as long as it takes for him to try and pinch Liam's nipple or steal his tea or jump on someone's back.

Liam still doesn't know how to make head or tail of Louis. He just doesn't get him at all.

~*~

The thing is, they keep getting put through.

~*~

When they don't win, they end up being shepherded into Simon's office.

"I'd be stupid not to sign you," he says, steepling his fingers together.

All the breath rushes out of Liam's lungs in one long ooof. He can see the relief on Harry and Zayn and Niall's faces too. And Louis', but he's frowning at the same time.

"You know I've got a little boy," Louis says, a little quieter than perhaps Liam was expecting.

"I know," Simon says, and Liam doesn't know how to read Simon's expression, but it might lean towards a smile. Or a smirk.

"Is it going to be a problem?" Louis asks. "He lives with me."

"You'll need someone to look after him when you're working," Simon says. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"No," Louis says. "But he can come with me? Like--on the tour and everything? Cos, like, I'm his dad."

"Nothing to say you can't have him with you," Simon says. "There'll be lots of details that need ironing out, though. It's not going to be easy--for any of you boys--but for you especially, Louis. You know that, right?"

"I'm going to work so hard," Louis says, and Liam can't help but look up at that. Louis is the class clown, the practical joker, the one who always acts like he doesn't care, but now he sounds almost desperate. "I won't let you down," he says. "I promise."

There's a pause before Simon speaks again. "Good," he says. "I'll have the contracts drawn up."

Liam still doesn't understand Louis at all.

~*~

When they all move to London, Louis and Kit move in with Harry. Kit is a whirlwind of a small child, and Liam helps move the endless boxes of his belongings out of the van up the stairs to Louis and Harry's new flat. Louis is a total mess of a human being, and even though he's only been in the flat ten minutes, there's stuff everywhere and Kit is very happily sitting on some bubble wrap whilst Harry makes tea.

"Louis?" Liam calls, carefully putting his very last box down on the stack by the living room door. "Um. Kit's by himself."

"I took the scissors with me when I left," Louis calls back, from inside the bathroom. "Only left him the knives to play with." There's the sound of the flush, and the taps running, and then the door opens. Louis is in jeans with the cuffs rolled up. Harry's mum had joked that Louis was terribly Victorian, with his ankles on show. Liam isn't entirely sure what she'd meant by that, but it's meant that he's been sneaking peeks at Louis' ankles all day. He doesn't quite understand the feeling in his chest right now, but he suspects it can only mean trouble.

"He's little," Liam says doggedly. "Are you sure you should have left him by himself?"

"For, like, two seconds," Louis says, going back into the living room to swoop Kit up into a hug. "Hi, baby. Did you miss Daddy? Liam says you were about to take over the world. Was that what you were doing whilst Daddy was in the loo?"

"Daddy," Kit says, and very solemnly presses what looks to be a very wet kiss on Louis' jaw.

Louis looks delighted, and there's that very strange feeling in Liam's chest again.

"He might have had an accident."

"Shut up, Liam. Everything's fine. Kit's fine." He kisses Kit's cheek. "Shall we go and bug Hazza for the tea, little one? You want some milk and a biscuit?"

Kit brightens up. "Biscuit."

"Yes, my bright, shiny child." He grins at Kit, and then at Liam. "You want a biscuit too, Payne-o?"

"I did carry all those boxes," Liam says.

"You did," Louis says. "Maybe we'll let you have two."

That feeling, Liam thinks, could get old very quickly indeed.

~*~

Louis and Harry and Kit's flat is always a disaster zone. Kit's room is still full of half-empty boxes, and Louis never bothers re-making Kit's cot so it's always a mound of soft toys and a Thomas duvet. Kit is clearly Louis' kid, because Kit is equally messy, and refuses to sleep in a neatly made cot. He tips his toys all over the floor and plays trains on the kitchen tiles whilst Harry makes dinner, and Louis reads the recipe out from the kitchen floor with Kit in his lap. Kit has barely any routine, and he doesn't seem to miss one; he goes to sleep super late and wakes up late too; half the time he sleeps in the same bed as Louis, because Louis adores him and doesn't mind how late Kit stays up if he's not bad tempered or grumpy. Which Kit barely ever is, because for the most part he's as sunny a baby as Liam has ever known.

Kit can also be stubborn and recalcitrant and bossy and terribly clingy; he adores Louis and won't leave him alone, which is fine by Louis because he's just as clingy, but it doesn't make photoshoots and interviews and recording any easier.

He ends up being in one of the photoshoots in the end, all five of them making terribly stupid faces at Kit as he shows each of them in turn his toy train. It's a spectacularly popular photoshoot in hindsight, but that doesn't mean it's okay.

"Lou--" Liam says carefully.

"Yes?" Louis says, sprawling out across the sofa so that his head is resting in Liam's lap. "Urgh, god, I'm knackered. Kit wouldn't fucking sleep last night. I got, like, three and a half hours sleep."

"He normally sleeps better, though?" Liam asks. He knows Kit does. He's also terribly tempted to stroke Louis' hair away from his forehead. Before X Factor, he would never have considered touching another boy the way they all touch each other now, but at least he's accepted it's normal when the other boys do it to him. He just can't quite bring himself to be as familiar with them, though. He's self-aware enough to know that sometimes when he gets hard, it's because of a boy instead of a girl. He's just not entirely sure what to do with that information yet, or what to do with the knowledge that a lot of the time when he gets hard thinking about a boy, he's thinking about Louis.

"He's the best sleeper in the world," Louis says proudly. He closes his eyes. "Just not last night."

Liam was going to bring up the fact that Kit is a bit of a barrier to them being professional at the moment, but he just doesn't know how to do it. Louis is deeply, deeply protective of Kit, and Liam knows him well enough by now to recognise that there is literally no way at all Louis will take any form of criticism well. He also knows that none of the others will do it. Harry is great to go to if you have a problem, but less good about dealing with problems head on, Niall just wouldn't, and Zayn's just Zayn. There's only him, and he doesn't have a clue how he's supposed to do it.

"Sleepy," Louis says, snuggling down, his cheek still pressed to Liam's thigh. "You're a good pillow, Payne. Lemme sleep here for a bit."

Liam doesn't know how to say no to him, is the thing. He suspects that's the problem.

~*~

Louis ends up sleeping on him for two and a half hours. He wakes up to Liam's hand in his hair, and the TV playing low.

~*~

Liam doesn't know what to do, but he knows he has to do something, so rather than tackle Louis head on, he starts looking into nanny services. He doesn't really know where to start, so he has a private conversation with Paul, where he makes a careful list of all the reasons that it might be better if Louis looked into getting an actual childminder for Kit. Someone who'd make sure that Kit didn't have to put up with endless boring hours at a photoshoot, or a video shoot, or anything else, and who wasn't temporary or disengaged, like the on-tour nanny they hire for the nights that Kit is with them, and not at home with Louis' mum.

Paul is immediately on-board with the idea, which Liam appreciates, but he still doesn't know how to bring it up with Louis, who loves Kit more than anything in the world. He loves him even when they're both eating Nutella straight from the jar with a spoon, and Kit gets chocolate all over his face and clothes and the sofa and Louis. They both end up sitting in their pants on the floor in the kitchen, chocolate everywhere, whilst Kit tries to feed Louis with a Hello Kitty spoon. He loves him even when he wails at being left behind when Louis has to do something like get photographed, or talk on the radio, and one of the security team--who all adore Kit--is left pacing up and down the corridor with him outside the studio. He loves him even when he's grumpy and crying and suffering the post-Nutella sugar lows. He loves him even when they're both dancing to One Direction songs at three in the morning because Kit's woken up and won't go down again, and the only thing Louis can think of to do with him is put music on in the living room and start jumping up and down, Kit giddy with excitement and stomping his little toddler feet.

"I am the best dad ever," Louis says, when Kit is curled up happily against Louis' chest, chocolatey fingers fisted in Louis' shirt, hugging a Thomas the Tank Engine book and a Hello Kitty soft toy as he sleeps. "Haven't I got the best kid ever? Like, ever."

"Yep," Liam agrees, because he loves Kit. He's really rather sure he loves Louis too--like that, yes--but he doesn't really know what to do with that information.

"I'm never going to leave you feeling like you're not my number one, am I, kidlet?" Louis tells Kit, who's snuffling into Louis' shirt, hair falling in his face, sleeping quite happily because he's got Louis all to himself. "Because you're my number one in the universe. Daddy loves you, and you're always going to know it, all right?"

Liam has had three conversations with different nanny agencies in the past two days, and he and Paul are going to meet with the heads in the next few days, to see whether they'll be a good fit for Kit and Louis. They won't be interviewing particular nannies yet, because they won't be able to do that without Louis there, but Liam wants to get the right agency first, before he presents Louis with his plans. There's just less chance of Louis saying no and having it stick if all the work's been done, and it's obvious that this is the best way forward. Because this is the best way forward. Kit is a brilliant kid, but Louis has a job to do, and right now he's so caught up in being there whenever Kit needs him that he drops everything just to give Kit what he wants.

"He's the best kid, isn't he?" Louis asks, leaning over and poking Liam in the thigh. "Tell me, Liam. I haven't heard anyone else say it in at least ten minutes."

"He's brilliant," Liam agrees. Over the other side of the room, Harry is on his phone, curled up like a pretzel in the armchair, legs flung over one arm.

"Harry?" Louis asks.

"Best kid ever," Harry says dutifully. He throws them both a grin. "Who's the best uncle in the room, though? That's the question."

"Harry," Louis says immediately.

"Oi," Liam protests. He's hurt.

"You're more like a dad," Louis says. "Don't get snotty about it, it's the truth. You're everyone's dad."

Not Kit's, though, he thinks, fingers twitching. He knows the meetings with the nanny agencies are going to backfire. He's not that big an idiot. He just wants what's best for everyone, Kit included, and Kit deserves someone who's not dashing off to smile for the camera every five seconds when he's working. Kit should be at home with his toys sometimes, instead of being dragged round a million studios and interviews and green rooms. "That's me," he says, trying for rueful and hitting fake and a bit bewildered instead. "Everyone's dad."

Louis just pats him on the knee. "Change the channel, will you? I'm bored of this." The remote is exactly equidistant between them, but Louis just beams at him, exquisitely lazy. "I'm holding a baby."

Liam reaches for the remote, and tries to ignore Harry's smirk. He doesn't always do what Louis demands of him.

Just most of the time, that's all.

~*~

It all blows up in his face three days later.

"You've done what," Louis says, hoisting Kit up onto his hip. "Tell me that again."

"I've been talking to these agencies--with Paul--and there's this one that I think you might like."

"Agencies," Louis says, extremely carefully. "You've been talking to nanny agencies behind my back."

"Not behind your back," Liam says quickly, even though it quite clearly has been. "I was just--I knew you wouldn't have time, so I--"

"You went behind my back," Louis says, "trying to ship my baby out when I wasn't fu--bloody looking, giving him away to whoever gives you the best cup of tea. Is that it?"

"No, of course not," Liam says. "I just--" he shrugs awkwardly. "We're doing so well and Kit deserves someone to pay attention to him all the time--"

Louis' eyebrows shoot up and under his hair. "Which I don't do, presumably," he says, ice-cold. "I'm assuming that's what you're saying. Kit needs someone to pay attention to him, because I'm not doing a good job of that."

"That is not what I'm saying," Liam says. "If you'd just listen--"

"You knew I had a baby. Right from the start, you knew I had a baby, and now he's getting in your way, you want him out, that's right, isn't it?"

"You're talking rubbish," Liam says. "And anyway, no I didn't know you had a baby. You never actually told me. I didn't know for certain until the day you walked in holding him, so don't talk to me about knowing from the start, because you never fu—you never told me, all right?"

"Well, you can see why, can't you?" Louis snaps.

#fic i wish i was writing #teen dad Louis #wip

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