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softspeirs · 2 months

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Reprieve (BoB/MoTA x OC)

Summary: What if Bucky and Buck managed to escape the forced march that night in Germany? What if in a really roundabout way, they got some help from some locals and found their way to the 101st? What if! Loosely follows the events of this AU. Author's Note: No romantic pairings (a bit of Speirs/OC mentioned). Features my BoB OC, Kat Gray. This is very much a "magic of fanfiction" story - doesn't fit with canon and certainly would not have happened in real life. It's fine - we're all insane here anyway. Enjoy! Warnings: mentions of PTSD, and descriptions of war-related injuries. Words: 8k+ (I am so sorry)

“Welcome back to the land of the living Major. You look like you’ve seen better days.” The woman’s American accented-voice is clear as a bell and yet Bucky still thinks he’s hallucinating. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

Bucky tries to sit up.

"Not so fast," she says, leaning over him so he can see her.

“Where am I?” He croaks.

"You’re in an aid station with the Airborne. You've been out for two days. Take it easy." She sounds familiar.

"Have we met?” he asks, ignoring her request to sit still. His ribs ache, and his throat feels so dry he feels like he’s swallowed sand.

"Once upon a pub in England, Major Egan." The woman busies herself around him, gathering bandages and other supplies, and when he can finally force his eyes to focus his gaze, he sees her, and he can't help but let out a breathy, disbelieving chuckle as he recognizes her.

"Of all the gin joints..."

She turns around and grins. "Something like that." She holds out her hand. "Corporal Kat Gray, sir. It's good to see you."

He takes her hand gratefully, squeezing. "I'd say the same, but--" he winces as he reaches up to touch his eye. He can't see out of his left eye at all. It's eerily similar to how he arrived at Stalag Luft III, and he wants to vomit at the thought. "How--"

"You and Major Cleven have had a rough few days." She says, her tone taking on a more somber tone. "He's just fine." She adds, reading the panic on his face. "He’s being debriefed by our CO.” She leans in. “I’m going to try to clean this a bit better,” she says gently. “I’m going to adjust you for a minute, but if you can look up for me, I won’t need to touch you much.”

He feels a strange mix of shame and relief at the way she’s talking to him - telling him what she’s going to do and giving him the power to say yes or no… it’s certainly an adjustment compared to what some visits to the infirmary in Germany were like.

He looks up at her, and she nods reassuringly, reaching to adjust him so she can see him better in the dim light. “How on Earth did you end up here?”

The last few days all feel like a blur, and Bucky bites back the rising panic at the thought of what his and Buck’s escape might mean for their friends. “Buck and I have been in a POW camp since ‘43.”

Kat is quiet, meeting his gaze with large, dark eyes. “I’m very sorry to hear that. Obviously you escaped. Nearly ran right into our outpost.”

He sighs, scratches at his jaw. "They evacuated the camp. We’d been having conversations with our guys for a week or so when we knew the Germans were going to march us. We agreed that a few of us should try to get back. I remember finally finding a window to make a run for it, and--" he stops as he flashes back to a dark night, moments of complete panic, and finally, watching Buck escape over that wall. "-- got the butt of a rifle for my troubles."

"That explains the bruising." She leans in, her fingers cool against his fevered forehead. "Did you have a previous injury here?" Her gaze is narrowed in on a spot somewhere near his cheekbone.

He really doesn't want to talk about it. It was hard enough trying to tell his guys what happened to him, and he's just not sure he has the words to try to describe it to someone else. He'll have to eventually. If they ever make it back... but that's about the only time he thinks he can manage to get the words out. "Yes." He says finally. "When I went down…. They walked us through a city that had been recently bombed, and between the civilians and the guards..." He trails off, jaw tight.

Her eyes are understanding. She doesn't press him, and he's grateful. Instead, she leans back against the wall at her back, folding her arms across her chest. "So I've got good news and bad news. The good news is I don’t think you’ll have any lasting damage, even in that eye. I don't think your orbital bone is broken, but you'll be sore for a while. The bad news is that you need to speak with our S-2, on account of how you might be a spy and everything."

Bucky blinks at her.

Kat smiles. "It’s just a joke. But… procedure. You know it goes. Technically I probably shouldn’t have asked you anything about how you got here.” She shrugs, waves a hand dismissively. She stands up straight, takes a few steps back from him. "Think you can walk?"

“Would it matter if I can’t?” He grumbles, pushing himself into a sitting position.

“Of course,” she frowns. He has to remind himself where he is and who he’s with. He’s gotten so used to hiding any major or minor injury, any sign of illness, and being forced to stay on his feet for what felt like hours on end, sometimes in the middle of the night.

Kat continues, “Though, sir, if you were to… as a Major, of course… give me permission to order Captain Nixon to come to you instead, I would really really enjoy that.”

Outside, he shields his eyes from the bright light with his right hand. His head throbs, but he keeps walking. He glances down at the woman beside him.

Helmet in her hand, he gets a better look at her now that they're not in a room lit with barely a single bulb.

"Where are we?" Bucky asks, voice low.

"Somewhere between Belgium and Bavaria." She says. "We’ve been here for a week, pulled off the line not too long ago.”

Her voice is scratchy, whether from overuse or from illness, he can't tell. She has a fading bruise on her left cheek, a mirror of the one on his face. She looks older than the last time he saw her.

He remembers her, fresh-faced and in a clean uniform on a pub night where he and Buck and Benny were all together and intact. Not a scratch on them or dust on their uniforms. He remembers her easy smile and the way her men closed ranks around her at the first sign of his flirting.

They walk a few more feet to a requisitioned building that's practically falling apart. It's warm though, and that's really all he cares about. That, and seeing for himself that Buck is here and alive.

He hears his low voice before he sees him. Buck is standing bent over a table covered in maps. Across from him are two captains - one he vaguely remembers and one he hasn't met yet. All three straighten at his approach.

"Major Egan, this is Captain Winters and Captain Nixon."

After two hasty salutes that Bucky feels uncomfortable receiving, Nixon's hand is the first outstretched for a shake. "Egan. Good to see you on your feet."

"Thanks." He replies distractedly as he looks at his friend. "Buck? Entertaining guests already?" He asks, gesturing at the room they're in - it clearly used to be a kitchen.

Buck smirks. "Should have remembered to get down the good silverware."

"What, uh…" He wants to ask what happened after the woods, after-- he remembers finding Buck in the woods, hands trembling and alone. He had waited for him, said he knew he'd catch up eventually, and said George was gone.

They walked the entire night and next day, sticking to the woods as much as possible until they got close enough to the front to hear American voices. It's a bit hazy after that. Between the certain head trauma and the exhaustion, he doesn't remember much.

Buck shakes his head, almost imperceptible if Bucky hadn’t been searching his expression. Later, it seems to say.

Nixon gets Bucky’s attention by clearing his throat. “If you can come with me for a minute, Major.” he says, gesturing to another room off to one side.

“Nix, I really don’t think–” Kat tries to interject.

“Kat, we can’t make exceptions.” Nixon says warningly, though his tone is nowhere near harsh. He turns back to Bucky. “Look, Major, I remember you, and I know you’ve already been through this with your far less kind hosts, but I’ve got to ask you a few questions before we do anything else.”

With a look at Buck, who nods reassuringly, Bucky goes.

They go through the whole thing - name, rank, serial number, what’s the national anthem, who is the President and when was he elected… the whole thing. All things considered, Bucky actually thinks Captain Nixon goes pretty easy on him.

They join the others after a few more minutes, Bucky absently rubbing his temples which are already starting to ache.

The taller man -- Winters -- seems to want to get down to business. He turns to Kat. "Corporal Gray. Hang around for a minute?"

"Yes sir." She says, finding a place to perch on a counter behind Buck. As she hoists herself up, Bucky catches the glimpse of a dirtied bandage that takes up nearly her entire arm as her sleeve rides up.

Trying to focus on the task at hand, he and Buck go over every second of their escape until Bucky can't remember much else. His jaw clenches as Gale recounts how he half carried, half dragged Bucky to the other side of a ditch so they could get to the American side of the line.

"Gotta say, you're a couple of lucky bastards," Nixon says. "A few hours later and that town would have been either empty or back in German hands." He meets Bucky's eyes.

They go over a map for a few more minutes."We were marching in this direction,” Buck says, pointing at the map, “But it’s hard to know for sure, and there's no way to know how long they were going to make us go."

"Well, they'll meet up with the Army at some point." Nixon says firmly. "Nothing classified about it - we're making gains in all directions. It won't be long."

Bucky nods, trusting him and his intuition. At least he could sleep at night knowing he didn't resign his friends to too many more months of hell.

"Any chance you'll be the one to break them out of there?" Bucky asks.

"It's hard to say." Winters says eventually. "We're assuming our next move is into Germany, possibly farther into the Reich than Berlin. We won't know until we get our orders." He looks apologetic, and both Bucky and Buck know that despite their rank, despite the fact that they’re all officers in the Army, Winters can’t tell them much more. He probably shouldn’t have told them any of this at all.

Winters switches gears, turning to Kat. "What's the diagnosis, Kat?"

"Concussion watch for Major Egan," she meets his eyes briefly, "Two broken ribs and obviously the damage to his left eye." Her tone is pretty clinical, but Bucky doesn't take it personally. "I'd like to get some food in both of them, and Major Cleven's got a cough I don't like the sound of."

"Well, he’ll fit right in then.” Nixon says.

Kat rolls her eyes and kicks the Captain lightly with one dangling foot. "I think the interrogation will have to continue another day. I'd like Roe to check them out too." She continues quietly. At their nod, she takes charge, a hand on Buck's shoulder to guide him out the door, and a glance over her shoulder at Bucky signaling that he should follow.

Outside, he finally asks. "Why is it you don't have one of those lapel pins yet, Gray?"

She snorts. "I should think it's obvious, Major."

"Really, the rank thing is all bullshit anyway." He says.

"John..." Buck grumbles as they walk.

"It's okay--" Kat says, stopping only when they hear a loud whistle overhead. Bucky's entire body tenses. They’d been hearing artillery in the distance at the stalag for weeks, but it’s different when it’s happening right over their heads. "Over here." Kat’s voice is firm, urgently directing them into a doorway.

"Is that--" Buck stops short of asking, the earth rumbling under their feet for a moment.

"Enemy artillery. They're not that accurate. We're too close- they're just on the other side of the river."

"And yet...." He looks down at the way she’s setting her helmet firmly down on her head and raises his eyebrows at the urgency in her voice.

She sighs. "Let me find you both a place to sleep and some food, and then I'll tell you what the last few months have been like."

Kat leads them upstairs where they're given a small kit with some essentials, and a few k-rations to split between the two of them. They've even got a chocolate bar to split, and Bucky swears he's never tasted anything so good in his life.

"Don't go bragging about that," the soldier who handed it to him says. "I'll never hear the end of it."

Kat chuckles from her spot on a beat-up sofa in the center of the room. It’s some sort of supply depot - different members of the company trail in and out, hauling boxes with ammo, rations, and even mail at one point. It’s clear many of them are bunking in here too.

She tells them about the last few months in Bastogne - her eyes go a little hazy and her face clouds over in grief as she skips some of the nastier parts. “Once you hear the whistle of artillery like that, you don’t forget what comes after. That’s why I’m a little jumpy. Even though they’re missing us with mortars all day, it's just…” She shrugs. “It’s never a sure thing.”

"Tell me about that arm, Kat." Bucky says, curiosity getting the better of him. "Let me guess, I should see the other guy?" He asks.

"Not exactly." She says, smile dimming. “Like I said, German artillery went off pretty much every day, at all hours. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

"Got knocked on her ass." Another man sitting opposite her says. His eyes have been narrowed on Buck and Bucky since they arrived.

"Oh, shut up, Lieb." Kat bites back, but there's no heat in her words.

Buck and Bucky share a look, the barest hint of a smile on Gale's face. The friendly banter makes Bucky ache for a simpler time, when they’d be doing nothing but giving each other shit and playing cards all night. It feels like a thousand years ago.

“I was wounded from shrapnel here,” she gestures at her arm. “Lost quite a bit of blood. Lucky for me, I was unconscious for the aftermath.”

More whistling suddenly sounds overhead. It sounds louder, closer than before. It's strange - Bucky knows how to anticipate enemy fighters, but this is uncharted territory for him.

"Everyone up." Kat orders, the few other men in the room standing hastily and gesturing that the Majors should follow them. "Wait--" She stops, pausing to listen. The urgency in her expression feels different than it did before, outside on the street.

"We gotta go, Kat." Liebgott says harshly, eyes a little wild.

Another whistle. The entire building shakes.

"Christ," Buck bites out through grit teeth.

On instinct, Kat reaches out to steady Bucky, one hand falling tight on his wrist. They keep each other upright, and he sees Liebgott doing the same thing on Kat's other side. His hand is clasped tight around her elbow, and then the next whistle comes screeching in.

"Go!" Buck says, always the leader, even when he's out of his element.

The four of them go racing down the steps, pausing only when the building shakes so violently, Bucky is sure it's going to come down with them still inside.

"Move!" Kat urges, pushing at his back when he falters. "I didn't nurse you back to life just to watch you die here, Major Egan." They all trip over each other halfway down the stairs when another blast hits, and Bucky coughs as dust and crumbled plaster rain down on them from above.

They've all stopped on the ground floor, crouched low as if that would stop an entire building from coming down on them. Buck's arm is over Kat's shoulders, Liebgott pressed tight to her other side.

"Medic!" The shout is nearby, and frantic. Kat squirms under Gale's arm.

"Major Cleven, I need you to let me up." She says, calm.

Buck blanches like he hadn't even realized he was doing it. "Sorry."

"No time for apologies, and none needed." She says. "Lieb, take them to the CP? They’re bunking there for the night."

With a quick smile, she's gone as if she had never been there in the first place, and they're left a little dazed, watching her go.

Out on the street, they hear raised voices, but Liebgott ushers them on, his steps quick. He keeps giving Bucky a look, so finally he decides to just tackle it head on.

"You don't have to keep looking at me like I'm going to steal your girl."

To his amazement, Liebgott's eyes go wide for a fraction of a second before he laughs, loudly. A cackle, really. "Major, she's not my girl. Though if you want a shiner to match the one you’ve already got, you keep on making the moves on her. In fact, I'd pay money to see what happens when--"

"Alright, alright." Bucky says. "I get the picture. Jesus."

"You haven't met Captain Speirs yet." Liebgott says, an amused smirk still on his face, stopping in front of yet another half crumbling building. "Third floor. Good luck. Doc Roe is up there too - Kat wanted you to see him."

Buck levels Bucky with an exasperated look as soon as they get inside. "Been awake for less than two hours and already causing trouble."

"Trouble finds me, Buck."

They head upstairs and walk right into an argument. A man is in the center of the room, hands on his hips. Another medic is in front of him, looking for all the world like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Uh-- sorry to interrupt." Gale, ever the peacemaker, speaks up.

The man turns, giving them a view of the captain's bars glinting on his garrison cap. He says nothing, turns back to the medic in front of him. "Roe, listen. I already told her she's better off in bed but just do me a favor and give her a shift tomorrow morning. She's out there doing god knows what no matter what we say anyway. Might as well do it where you can keep an eye on her."

He exhales, turns back to the two newcomers. "Majors Cleven and Egan? I’m Captain Speirs. You'll be bunking here until we can figure out what to do with you."

Bucky bites the inside of his cheek so he doesn’t smirk. This is the infamous Captain Speirs that Kat may or may not be involved with.

"We hope we'll be out of your hair soon." Buck says.

"That'll be up to Doc Roe’s evaluation, I'm afraid." He gestures at the other medic, informally introducing them. "You've seen Kat already?"

Bucky nods. "Just got debriefed and almost shelled to death. She's somewhere dealing with a casualty."

Speirs' expression doesn't change too much, but it's enough that Bucky notices the way his jaw clenches and he shifts his weight.

"Man of few words." Bucky mutters under his breath.

"Better go see what's going on. No patrol tonight, so take your time, Roe, and for God's sake, make sure Lipton actually gets some sleep?"

"Yes, sir."

As Speirs leaves, the medic turns to them with a tired smile. "Sorry for all the commotion. We don't usually have visitors."

Bucky snorts. "You don't say." He settles himself on a chair while Roe has Buck move into a better light so he can see.

"I know Kat already did a preliminary check but I'll just do my own, if you don't mind." He frowns. "Those scars are awfully symmetrical, Major."

Bucky goes tense. Doesn't like the way Roe is sizing up his friend. Doesn't want Buck to have to relive any of it if he doesn't have to.

"Any of your jumps involve you going feet first through a German farmhouse window, Doc?" Buck rasps, eyebrow arching.

Roe hums, already moving to clean up a scrape from Buck's temple. "We had some nice fellas clear out a spot for us to land on our last jump."

"You also jump out of your planes on purpose."

Roe grins. "This is true." He wipes at a small spot of crusted blood near Buck's hairline. "This healed well enough. No infection. Seems like you might be stuck with them, though they might fade eventually."

Buck doesn't say anything. No more probing questions from the Doc either, for which Bucky is grateful.

“You and Kat both have that same cough…” He says, almost to himself. “We’ve got pneumonia going around, but your breathing sounds okay. Keep that scarf on,” he says, gesturing to the olive drab scarf tucked around Gale’s neck. “Try to stay warm. If we get another supply drop I might have something else for you, but it’ll probably have to wait until you get back home.”

Home. Thorpe Abbotts… it all seems so impossible.

"You're up, Major Egan." Roe says, waiting until he's seated in front of him to dab lightly at the bruising around his eye. "You're lucky you didn't lose this eye." He says mildly. "Looks like Kat cleaned it well; I'm not going to risk irritating it further." He stands back, crossing his arms. "About those ribs..."

Bucky bites back a wince and a noise of pain as Roe applies pressure to his midsection. “It’s not the first time. No time to let them heal up and they probably didn’t heal right the first time, either.

Roe meets his eyes. “Are you short of breath? Any stabbing pain?”

Bucky shrugs. "I've had worse."

Roe must read the expression on his face, because he doesn't push. Whether he can read in between the lines or not, he gets the message, and Bucky is grateful, because he can't talk about that night again. Not the night he was captured, and not the night he and Buck finally got out. He's just-- he wants to forget it ever happened.

"You'll bunk here with the other officers tonight." Roe says. "I'd get some rest before chow time, if I were you."

Buck and Bucky have no problem taking orders, and they're both almost asleep on their cots before their heads even hit the pillow. Bucky still feels anxious about how they're going to get back to England, but he hears the laughter of men outside, and is just grateful to be alive. To be back amongst allies, even if it's only temporary.

Bucky wakes early. He sits up slowly, groaning. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone move. “Jesus Christ, Kat.”

She cackles. “I’m so sorry. I was checking to see if you were still asleep.” She says, tone full of mirth.

He huffs as she laughs for a few more seconds before taking a step closer.

“How’s your head?”

He shrugs. “Sore.”

“Ribs?”

“Feel like I was kicked by a horse.”

“Do you think you can eat?”

He nods and Kat gestures that he should follow her. In the large living area, a few of the officers he met the day before are sitting around a long table, metal bowls with what looks like the world’s worst oatmeal in hand.

“Morning.” Captain Winters greets them both. He looks down at his wrist and checks his watch. “You should still be asleep.” He says pointedly to Kat, who has been doing her best to hide a cough in her elbow, but everyone can see the shadows under her eyes.

“Sorry sir. Wanted to check on the majors.”

“Where’s Buck?” Bucky asks suddenly, feeling guilty he hadn’t even checked.

“Took a walk.” Kat says. “Roe is with him.” She gestures for Bucky to sit, leans in to speak quietly to him. “He had a rough time sleeping.”

Bucky hadn’t heard a thing. He was so out of it, the exhaustion of the last week catching up to him.

Winters is watching him carefully. Clearing his throat, he asks, “So. Explain these nicknames to me.”

It’s so unexpected that Bucky can’t help but laugh. Bucky accepts the change in subject gratefully. He tells the whole story. Leaves out some of the more colorful details Gale would have added.

“You enlisted before Pearl Harbor?” Kat asks.

“So you beat us to the war in more ways than one,” Another officer at the other end of the table says, grinning. Bucky was introduced to Harry Welsh the night before, but he was so exhausted he doesn’t think he did more than exchange pleasantries. He likes him right away - he’s got a glint in his eye that showcases his good humor.

“Say, Gray, did you know if anyone in the Air Corps gets kicked off two crews, they get sent to the infantry?” Bucky leans back in his chair, accepts a bowl of what appears to be oatmeal from Kat as she passes it along.

“That explains a lot,” Welsh says with a wry smile.

Bucky grins. “Smartest guys in your division probably came from us first.”

Kat looks between the two men, shaking her head but smiling as she gives Bucky a faux stern look. “You’re confused, Major. We’re not just infantry. We’re the Airborne.”

The other Lieutenant down at the end of the table grins. “Could have used a few more of you bomber boys to clear the way for us on D-Day.”

“Kind of a shame I missed it, but I was otherwise occupied.” Bucky says. He looks away, not wanting to think too hard on what was going on in his head when they heard the invasion had started. It hadn’t been a good stretch of days for him.

“Morning,” Buck’s voice announces himself, and he comes in looking better than Bucky has seen him for weeks. The shadows under his eyes are still there, those scars on his cheeks prominent against his pale skin, but he looks more like himself.

“Major Cleven,” Kat says with a smile. “Got a bowl with your name on it.” Her tone is pleasant, but doesn’t leave any room for refusal. “Have a seat.”

A gentle smile tilts Buck’s mouth as he takes the bowl from her hands. “Yes ma’am.”

Buck and Bucky tuck in to their food, letting the chatter of Easy Company fill in the silence. Bucky feels…. Envious. It’s a strange feeling. He watches the way the officers and Kat and the various men who drift in and out of the building interact, and besides the guys in the Stalag, the boys in The 100th haven’t always been lucky enough to get to know their comrades like this.

It’s clear to him that Easy is a group that have been together a long time.

“What’s on your mind?” Buck asks, voice low.

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Just– wish the other guys were here. That’s all.”

Buck watches him closely. “Yeah.”

Kat is called away to the aid station before long, and they’re left with Captain Winters. He’s quiet, but asks them both where they’re from and how long they’ve been in the service. It’s an easy conversation, Lieutenant Welsh chiming in here and there before they both excuse themselves for a meeting.

“Something’s going down tonight.” Bucky says.

Buck nods, tucking another spoon of oatmeal into his mouth.

Kat comes back a little while later, lips in a tight line. The Majors watch her carefully, trying to figure out if they should go back to their rooms and give her some space.

“If you need something to do you can help me over here for a minute,” she says quietly. Her voice is flat.

“Everything okay?” Buck asks, tone gentle but inquiring. He’s good at this part - trying to get someone to open up without pushing. God knows Bucky has been on the receiving end of it more than enough times.

“Fine, I– I don’t know how much I can say.” She gestures for them to join her, and she hands Buck a handful of bandages to roll. “I’m just tired of losing people.” She says quietly, almost to herself.

Buck and Bucky don’t say anything – what is there to say? They know too how people - friends - are there one minute and gone the next. They busy themselves helping her, all three of them falling into a contemplative silence.

“You know,” Bucky says, “you’re keeping these guys alive, Kat. Even an idiot with only one eye can see that.”

That gets a smile, even a small one, and Bucky starts to feel for the first time like everything is going to be okay, eventually.

The door downstairs flies open with a bang in the middle of the night, and Bucky is on his feet before he even realizes what he’s doing. He has a flash of a memory - a clanging cell and screaming German voices - before he remembers where he is.

Hearing Kat’s loud voice doesn’t do anything to slow his heart rate. Across the hall, Buck is also up and moving, heading down the stairs with just one look at Bucky. Raised voices fill the space and for a minute Bucky can’t tell what’s happening.

“Here. Put him here!” Kat’s voice is high pitched and urgent, and he can hear the frustration in her voice clear as a bell.

“Majors, welcome to the patrol,” another gruff voice snaps, and a man with sergeant stripes turns to them. His face is exhausted. “Make yourselves useful and help Kat.”

“I need a light!” She calls out, looking around for anyone who can help. “Now!”

“Here–” The same sergeant is shoving past Bucky, holding out a lighter.

Buck and Bucky are moving, helping to hold down the soldier on the table so Kat can see.

“You’re all right, just keep still,” her voice lowers, hand pressed to the man’s forehead. “Major, there’s a syrette in my left pocket.”

It’s unclear which one of them she’s talking to, but Gale moves first, extracting the syrette quickly. “Better if you do it, Kat.” He says.

She takes it with nimble fingers, sticking it in the man’s shoulder. “I need Captain Speirs–” She breaks off, seeing someone over Bucky’s shoulder. She snaps her fingers. “Lip, I need the captain, we need a jeep.”

“Everyone else clear out, give her some space.”

“Not you–” Kat says, hand clasping Gale’s forearm. “Need help for one more minute. Need you to hold him here,” she says, gesturing towards the wounded man’s other shoulder.

With a deep breath, Buck does as instructed, bracing the man as Kat does something to his wound that has Bucky turning the other direction, suddenly woozy as the soldier lets out a harsh cry, writhing slightly under both Kat and Buck’s bracing hold.

Bucky moves closer despite his rolling stomach, wanting to help, but Kat lifts her head, shaking it at his approach.

“I don’t think so, Bucky. Not with those ribs.” She turns her attention to Sergeant Martin, still there with the lighter. “Sarge, I need that light closer.”

“Kat.” Buck’s voice is a little strangled, and Kat looks over quickly, eyes flicking down to the man on the table who has stopped writhing, eerily still.

She pushes him aside quickly, pressing two fingers to the man’s pulse. She sighs. “He’s okay, he’s just unconscious. Probably from the pain. It’ll be harder to move him that way.” She looks back at Martin, “Sarge, we need at least one other person.”

Just then, Lipton comes back in with Speirs hot on his heels, face tight with tension.

“Kat.” Speirs says, voice firm and full of relief all at once. “What happened?”

“Sniper to the shoulder. He’s stable but he needs a surgeon.” She responds without looking up, missing the look on the captain’s face when he sees her whole and intact.

“Martin.” Speirs barks.

The man doesn’t flinch, barely even takes his eyes off the younger private on the table. “We took fire almost immediately when we crossed the river but we got three prisoners. Liebgott and Web are trying to get some info out of them with Nixon.”

“And Patterson?” He gestures to the young private.

“Sniper, as soon as we turned a corner. No one saw him until he fired. We turned tail right after that.”

Speirs runs a hand down his face. Everyone in this room looks exhausted. Bucky wonders if he’s misreading the tension - they look how he’s felt for the last six months. “Get him in a jeep.”

Kat, Lipton, and Martin work quickly, leaving Buck and Bucky momentarily to stand there, trying to comprehend what just happened.

“Buck.”

His friend looks up, eyes refocusing, but he seems a million miles away.

“All right?”

“Fine. Just— he couldn’t have been eighteen.”

“He just turned nineteen two days ago.” Kat says roughly, reentering the room and shoving past them. “We had a party.” Her voice is a bitter, angry thing. “We keep doing these prisoner snatches, and we lost a man during the first one. It just feels so… pointless.” She looks up at them, schooling her expression. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be–”

The doors open again and Kat is back to being all business. Martin and Lipton come back inside a minute later, and the night stills, like nothing happened in the first place. Martin and Lipton lean against the now-empty table, arms crossed over their chests, and Kat all but collapses in a chair, hands trembling slightly.

“Appreciate your help, Majors.” Lipton says with an exhausted smile.

“Any time.” Bucky says. “Though I wasn’t much help.” He’s got that tone again, he knows he does, where he’s feeling like he’s not doing enough, that he’s not enough, and it earns him a sharp look from Buck.

“You two should go back to bed,” Kat says quietly. “We’re going to try to get you out of here tomorrow and it’ll be a long journey back to England.”

There’s a weird feeling brewing in Bucky’s gut where he almost doesn’t want to leave. It’s the venture into the unknown - every time they’ve been in a situation where it was going back home, back to England, or having something bad happen as the alternative, things have gone wrong.

Despite being on the front, this feels like the safest they’ve been in months, and he’s reluctant to give up this camaraderie.

Kat must read something on his face, because her shoulders straighten. “Major Egan, you’re going to go home. That’s– the rest of us don’t have that choice.”

Properly chagrined, Bucky nods. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

Her expression is gentle, so he knows there was no bite behind her words, he just yet again is coming to terms with the fact that she’s been through hell and isn’t the same person he met all those years ago at the pub.

“Respectfully, sirs, off to bed with you both. Right now.”

Buck puts his hands up in surrender and heads up the stairs. Bucky trails behind him, Kat on his heels. Martin and Lipton bring up the rear, both looking like they could fall asleep standing up if need be.

After a whispered conversation in the hallway, Kat taps on Bucky’s door before entering. “I didn’t mean to be harsh, before.”

“You weren’t. You’re right.”

“Still, I know it’s not easy to feel… grateful, or relieved about your situation. Especially not after what you’ve been through.”

“It doesn’t need to be the ‘who has it worse’ Olympics, Gray.” He shrugs. “Two weeks ago it was probably me, but today and tonight it’s you.” He smiles at her. “Look, you’re going through this shit day in and day out and still putting on a brave face for everyone else.” He turns to face her fully. “Ever considered a transfer to the Air Corps?” He winks to let her know he’s kidding.

“Not in a million years, Major.” She nudges him with her elbow. “Get some rest, Bucky, and we’ll reexamine those ribs in the morning.”

“Thanks, Kat.”

The morning comes too soon for Bucky’s liking, and when he heads downstairs, there are only the remnants of the night’s watch group milling around. No sign of Kat anywhere, which makes Bucky a little anxious, but he heads inside the other room anyway, conversation dying as soon as he enters.

A lieutenant whose uniform looks so clean, it almost hurts to look at him snaps to attention.

“No, no, no.” Bucky says, tone wary. “Uh, at ease. No need for that.”

“Sir.” He says anyway, and there are a few snickers from the other men.

“Any chance for a coffee?” Bucky asks, sending a relieved smile at a man he hasn’t met yet who hands him a cup.

“It’s not hot yet but give me a minute.”

“Thanks, uh–” He squints at the stripes, “Sergeant–”

“Malarkey.”

A few more bodies filter into the room, and finally Kat appears, spending a second frowning and fussing over Bucky. She prods gently at the bruising around his eye and he winces, trying to cover up his reaction. She sees it anyway, lines between her brows getting deeper.

“Hurts worse than yesterday?”

“Not really. The same.” He replies. He’s extremely aware of all the eyes in the room being on him and Kat, and it makes him shift his weight, suddenly uncomfortable. “Why don’t you get a cup of coffee before it’s gone, huh?” He says. “Friends are waiting for you.”

Kat looks over her shoulder. “Yeah. Okay. But don’t think you’re getting away with pretending you’re fine, Bucky.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Kat gives him one last stern look before making a beeline for Liebgott in the corner who is holding an extra cup. He hands it over when she gets close, and Bucky watches the way the man eyes her carefully, like he’s trying to make sure she’s not going to fall apart any second.

It makes Bucky wonder about his guys, about the rest of the 100th and how they’re faring. He wonders how long the guilt will eat at him – probably until he sees for himself that they’re alive and well.

The mood in the room is tense, and Bucky wonders what happened before he came down, and notices one man’s bleary eyes on him. Bucky knows that look. The man’s attention quickly diverts to another fresh-faced private who enters the room quietly.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Webster?”

The room falls quiet.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, college boy.”

Bucky frowns and makes quick eye contact with Kat from across the room. Her expression is concerned.

“Are you drunk, trooper?” The lieutenant who had saluted Bucky asks, voice sharp.

“Leave me alone.”

Bucky has seen this before. Hell he’s been this before, though at least he had enough sense to not directly mouth off to Colonels Huglin or Harding… not in earshot anyway.

“Answer the question.”

“Yes, sir, I am drunk, sir. Drunk. Sick and tired of fucking patrols… taking orders.”

Sergeant Martin shifts on his seat. “Hey, Cobb. Shut up. It’s boring, okay?”

“Taking his side, Johnny?”

“Both of you–” Kat tries to interrupt.

“Shut up, Kat.”

A pin could drop three floors above them and everyone would hear it. Bucky’s jaw clenches tight, and he registers Buck entering the room behind him, footsteps quiet, clearly having overheard the entire thing.

Kat doesn’t look angry. She looks… sad? It makes Bucky wonder what happened to Cobb before he got to this point. Bucky knows the toll watching your friends die and feeling hopeless can take. He knows it doesn’t take much to reach a point you can’t come back from.

“Watch your mouth.” Liebgott fires back, taking half a step forward before Kat puts a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Sarge, they’re on their way in.” A voice from the doorway says, and Buck and Bucky move out of the way as Captain Winters and Speirs enter the room. They step out, not wanting to intrude more than they already have, but not before Malarkey hands them the promised cups of coffee that have been percolating for the last few minutes.

Bucky nods his thanks, and settles in a ripped up armchair across from Buck.

“Was hoping to get an update, but sounds like they might be in for another bad night.” Bucky says, taking a sip of the hot liquid. It’s not real coffee, but it’s warm, and he feels better almost instantly.

“What was all that about?”

Bucky shakes his head. “They’re– everyone’s tired.”

“He went after Kat.” Gale quirks a brow. “Doesn’t seem like that happens too often.”

“She held her own just fine.” Bucky says, smirking. “Besides, how many times have you had to stop me mouthing off like that? After all this shit… surprised it hasn’t happened sooner.”

They both stop for a second, savoring their coffee and trying to pretend they’re not eavesdropping.

“... I want you all to get a full night’s sleep tonight.” Captain Winters says, and the following silence is loud. Bucky’s eyebrows raise. “In the morning, you will report to me that you made it across the river into German lines, but were unable to secure any live prisoners. Understand?”

“I’ll be damned.” Buck whispers.

Everyone streams out, fresh smiles on their faces. It’s contagious, and Bucky stands when Winters greets him, leans in to shake his hand.

“Not a word, Major.”

“Of course.”

Speirs stops in front of them, and even he has upturned lips on his normally stoic face. Kat trails a few steps behind. Bucky can see it now, the way it seems like they’re extremely aware of the other one’s presence, like two magnets being drawn together, but trying to keep it quiet.

“Majors.” He says quietly. “Got an ETA on the transport to get you out of here. Tomorrow morning we’ll get you on a jeep to the hospital, and a ticket back to Thorpe Abbotts.”

Tomorrow.

It feels impossible. Buck’s hands are on his hips as he looks at the ground, a small smile growing on his face. Bucky imagines he looks the same way.

“Christ.” Bucky grins, throwing his arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Home.”

“Then we do whatever we can to bring our boys home with us.” Buck says firmly, eyes on his friend.

“They won’t let us fly–”

“I’m getting back behind that stick, John.”

Bucky nods. There’s no talking Gale out of something once he makes up his mind. And the scariest part is that Bucky knows he’ll be right there in the seat next to him if it comes down to it.

“Major Cleven,” Kat says, and she looks hesitant to interrupt. “I appreciate your ambition, but please take the time you need to fully recover.” She looks between them. “Both of you. Please.”

“Only if you do the same,” Buck says with a raised eyebrow, though his smile is assuring. “Heard you coughing all night.”

Bucky has forgotten that Speirs is still there leaning against a table in the corner, but sees him straighten out of the corner of his eye. He bites back a smile.

“Who is the medic here?” Kat asks archly.

Gale holds up his hands in surrender. “Just making sure you take your own advice.”

“You’re not the only one,” Speirs says quietly, but he too has an easy smile on his face, and with the way Kat double takes, it seems she’s just as surprised as the rest of them. “It should be a quiet night. We’ll get some chow and then get you both ready to go. Kat?”

“With you in a second,” she says, and watches as he leaves. She turns back to Buck and Bucky. “You heard Captain Winters, boys. A full night’s sleep is in order.” She crosses her arms over her chest, sending them a wry smile. “Is it weird that I’ll miss you both a little bit?”

“Don’t let tall, dark, and brooding over there hear you say that.” Bucky says quietly, an amused grin quirking the corners of his mouth.

Kat’s eyes widen. “Bucky! You can’t—”

“Jesus Christ.” Buck whispers, but he laughs too.

“I’m just teasing you. But seriously, Kat– you might not notice the way he looks at you, but I’ve only been here for two days and I can see it. Hell, every guy in there cares about you.” He gestures towards the nearly-empty room behind them. “You should hang on to that.” His voice is suddenly serious, and it makes Kat frown.

There’s so much she doesn’t know about what he’s been through in the last few months. There’s so much he doesn’t know about her. But they both know the toll war can take. They both know how easy it is to lose themselves in the horror of it.

“Can we do anything today to help?” Buck asks, trying to break the suddenly pensive mood, and Kat nods.

“If you’re up for it. We can find something.”

Hours later, they come back from helping Kat at the aid station feeling… dare Bucky say, fulfilled? He talked to so many guys, helped the ones who weren’t able write letters home to their parents and girls, and it gave him that bit of himself back, the piece he’s been trying to rediscover since he went down.

Mealtime is more subdued, but in a contented way that he hasn’t experienced in months. He’s still getting used to having halfway decent food to eat. Buck seems to be soaking it all in too - his quiet conversation with Welsh producing a few laughs and the sight of a smile on his best friend’s face gives him a little bit of hope that maybe they’re both going to be okay at the end of all of this.

The next morning they’re awoken by the sound of artillery in the distance. It’s not close enough to be alarmed, but Bucky was hoping for a quiet morning so they could make their getaway in peace.

He’s not really worried about anything else happening at this point, but they’re so close to enemy lines. That nagging thought in the back of his brain won’t fully go away, and probably won’t until he’s back on British soil again.

A knock on the door brings him out of his thoughts, and he straightens fully, finishing buttoning his shirt.

“Morning.” Kat says, looking tired, but happy. “We’re moving out soon. Time to go.”

Bucky nods. “Be down in a minute.”

They have nothing with them, he or Buck, so it doesn’t take them long to get ready. Downstairs in the CP, they’re greeted by the full cadre of officers.

“Good morning, majors.” Captain Winters says, saluting them as they enter. “We’ve got a transport for you back to the field hospital. You’ll link up there with the Red Cross, and then it’s an evacuation flight back to England.”

They say their goodbyes, and Bucky feels the melancholy mood settling in, even though he’s relieved to be on his way. He and Buck head outside with Kat and Doc Roe meets them at the truck.

“They’ll probably want to evaluate you again when you get to the hospital, but it should be quick.” He shakes both their hands, and then excuses himself, leaving them alone with Kat.

“I guess this is it,” Kat says, and Bucky and Buck share a look. She has no idea she’s echoing a conversation they had with each other years ago, but it makes them both smile, memories of an easier time when they had no idea what was coming next washing over them.

“Thank you, Kat.” Buck says, voice quiet and contemplative.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Kat says quietly. “I’m just happy you’re both okay and going home.”

Bucky shuffles his feet, unsure how to properly put into words what these few days with Easy Company have done for him and Buck both. Obviously the alternative could have been the end for both of them, but the universe putting them back in Kat Gray’s orbit still seems too good to be true.

“You take care of yourself.” Bucky says roughly, pointing at her.

“That’s my line.” Kat says, before closing the distance to reach for his hand, squeezing tight.

He returns the contact, unexpectedly feeling his throat getting thick. “You’ve got a good thing going here, Gray. Don’t do anything stupid, understand?”

“The same goes for you, Bucky.” She frowns. “I don’t like the idea of either of you flying again.”

Bucky shakes his head. “It’s a rule - downed pilots don’t get back in the seat. Buck just does best when he can lead. He’ll be itching to do something.”

“And you?”

Bucky smiles ruefully. “I really don’t know what the hell I want, Kat.” For this damned war to be over, he thinks.

“Kat, time to go.” A voice off to the side calls, and both she and Bucky turn to make eye contact with Captain Nixon.

“Coming.”

“Go on,” Bucky says. “Be safe.”

“You too, sir.”

Kat salutes him, which he still finds incredibly uncomfortable, but he returns it dutifully, smiling softly at her. He watches her walk over to Nixon, who hands her a pack that’s been sitting by his feet, and he can see the moment her posture changes and she prepares herself for whatever’s coming next.

“Train’s leaving the station, John.” Buck drawls.

Bucky turns to his friend and takes his offered hand as Buck hauls him into the back of the transport truck. The engine starts, and Bucky takes a minute to say a quiet prayer for Easy Company as they grow smaller in the distance, hoping that better things on the horizon are coming for all of them.

#band of brothers fanfiction #mota fanfiction #masters of the air fanfiction #john egan x oc #gale cleven x oc #i have been chewing on this for weeks so i'm just going to post it #otherwise i never will #i am not super happy with the ending #but i hope this scratches an itch for some of you!!!#softspeirs band of brothers fanfiction #softspeirs mota fanfiction #oc: kat gray

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warsamongthestars · 1 month

Note

I became curious about something; how different do you think things would go if someone else but Crosshair had a 'functioning chip'? Say Hunter was the one 'loyal' to the Empire. Because then the rest of the Batch would suddenly stand leaderless for instance. Ignoring the bad writing of the show of course. (Sorry if you've covered this somewhere already.)

I prolly have covered it? I don't think so, but I also don't remember, and I am doomed to inevitably repeat things as all who forget their history are will to do...

I think that the situation is an interesting story to explore.

But if it followed TBB's logic, it would be one that, unfortunately, would inevitably done the same things that occur in TBB, without fail and maybe with only minor to insignificant one-line differences.

( Almost word per word, exactly like a fanfiction rewrite that spends a majority of its time just copy pasting lines word per word without taking it stories into new directions... just merely adding scenes that get a Mature Rating slapped on )

Because TBB is not, in fact, written to tell stories but sell you something for attention and subscription money. It was never going to be deep, it was only going to bank on hype, rush and attention-of-the-moment; and it was never going to follow any kind of character or character arc beyond how it affects their OC and the OC's rival character.

So to follow the lines of this logic, to follow TBB, is to place Hunter as Omega's anime rival... and it would be just like Crosshair's arc, if not exactly. Maybe a change of planet, maybe a change from sniper rifle to combat knife, exchange the energy bow for a vibrosword, but the result wouldn't be any different.

BUT.

If we were to follow the line of thinking, with the idea that unique characters make the plot, they are not made by the plot... And that means following the character as they are introduced and presented, with all implications in mind, with the world build of Star Wars and the set up of the Clone Wars...

And of course, adding the best parts-- human experience and human imagination in a beautifully gruesome mesh-like disaster...

It starts with the fact that the Bad Batch are killers first and foremost. They brag about putting down insurrections and killing the people involved [the Yalbec story from the Bad Batch arc of season 7. The implications behind their bragging are horrifying, so I grabbed popcorn.], as well as the fun additional information that suggests why there was an insurrection [ I'd be pretty pissed too if my giant bug mother was hunted down and killed because her stinger was delicious to some cultures, and even more so if the Republic we're apart of does nothing about it. ]

They all follow the Empire, because its easy. Even better, they're highly regarded for their skills, probably finally get a paycheck with benefits. To the bad batchers, there really isn't much difference between the Empire and the Republic, the Empire is just the Republic with the shackles off anyway, and they're just continuing what they've been doing since deployment.

But because the chip runs on regular clone genome, not their mutant modified brains, that's when conflict would begin arise.

That's the sciencey-bullshit explanation.

The narrative-bullshit explanation, is that the strongest parts of each character can break through the evil-artifact's influence, provided that what is strong about them isn't what the evil-artifact attaches / attacks.

That's a general set up. So let's add your suggestion as a spark point to get stories going moving forward. Setting up the setting is all nice and dandy, but we need Ideas now.

So let's add in the idea that while everyone knows something is probably wrong, but can't quite put their finger on it, they know that there is obviously up with Hunter.

He's colder, he's more vicious, he's not the anxious compulsive snarker now, he's seemingly more a perfect soldier than any reg. Orders are absolute and be damned to anyone in the way.

( It was already noticed that the regs are acting like that too, regardless if they were like that before, and this on the backburner of the minds of the Bad Batch. But because most of the Bad Batchers are "special" (save Echo, who is freaking out) they don't consider themselves to be as knee deep in the cacky as they actually are. )

Echo is the very first one to call it out. He knows something is wrong. His brothers aren't acting right, the Bad batch have been getting these odd headaches, and Hunter has done a total 180. But given that Echo is new, the rest of the Batch try to confront Hunter.

( The jedi are dead. Echo saw the massacre reports and recordings via his new built-in hacking skills. Rex is dead, Jesse is dead, Kix is dead--everyone he has ever known, is gone. And if they're not gone, they are certainly not them anymore. Echo wants desperately to trust his squad--they're the only ones left... )

They send Wrecker first, because its hard to do anything to Wrecker. Wrecker's general warmhearted rough housing, results in being yelled at and given a vicious cold shoulder. Wrecker leaves Hunter alone, and becomes depressed.

Then its Tech, who isn't a socialite by any means, and tries to break the ice, so to speak, with fun information facts he's learned. When Hunter ignores him, Tech skips right into direct confrontation, breaking down that there is something wrong going on and they're in the middle of it, Hunter shuts him down. Tech leaves Hunter alone, and copes by putting his mind to a nearby droid project, and never saying a word to anyone.

Then the big one, Crosshair. Second in command, confident and in control, and the biggest asshole when he has had it with someone. He straight up confronts Hunter, no preamble, though unlike the avoidant Wrecker or the bullheaded Tech in confrontations, Crosshair hits his marks.

"You weren't like this before." "You're acting like a Reg." "Since when did we care about Orders?" "Since when did we care about missions beyond surviving them and the GAR?" "You notice how the Empire is killing regs enmass?" "You're going to led us to our death with that attitude."

( It should be noted, that Hunter's original self, has just enough capacity over his chipped brainwashing to not report his brothers, nor to execute them for defying Order 66. )

( This is not enough, however, to stop him from retaliating with the full force of a wild animal. )

Hunter and Crosshair end up in a fight. Hunter, at his worst, is a vicious dirty fighter who uses his environment and flexibility and stealth, to take down an opponent. He is wicked wiht a knife and small arms, Crosshair's absolute weakness as a primarily long ranged fighter. Hunter, chip or no chip, does not attack to kill his brothers, but Crosshair is dragged to medical afterwards for an "incident with a training droid".

Echo has had enough. Lines have been crossed, he has been told to sit back and wait for the team to handle it, his own feelings are a chaotic mess, and now his alarms are going off.

Whatever is going on with the clone army and with Hunter, its not something that can be reasoned with, and its certainly not something that can be done about when under the scrutiny of these natborn officers.... These new officers who would order public staff executions, and gods knows what else they do to the planets they occupy...

The only decision is to run and maybe, find a way to help from the outside, because they're not doing shit here.

( with dragging of feet and looming disaster in their minds ("We're just, leaving Hunter behind!?"), it doesn't take much for Echo to convince the remaining squad that they can't handle Hunter right now, but maybe, just maybe, they can find help and get him later. )

( "He'll be fine, he has to be fine, they aren't going to kill him because of our failure, that'd just be a... waste of resource," says Echo, "We just need to sell it like its a mutiny." )

They do. Hunter is hard to deal with one on one, but collectively (well, minus a wounded Crosshair) its easy to cause a scene and punch his lights out in front of cameras.

The tricky bit is running to the Havoc Marauder. They are, of course, successful, but not without some strange, unseen, outside help from a blond haired clone cadet we haven't seen up onto this point. To CF99, it just seems like coincidence that the blast doors reopen as they're closing, and that training droids are suddenly flooding hallways.

They fly off.

And that would be... well, at least the first five episodes maybe? No TV show movie or 1 hour episode start, just, full on first quarter of season 1.

This is just my idea of it... but it starts with setting Echo up as the leader of the Bad Batch, and it does not involve Omega having center stage, but merely being an implied part of plot to be revealed later.

As for what happens going forward, that depends on what we want them to face. Do we want them inevidably heading to Wayland? Does Wayland even exist as it does in TBB or is it something else? Does Pabu exist or maybe are we canonizing old media planets into the Disney verse? Does Cid exist or is someone else around?

The best thing about a over arching episodic story... is that you can literally do anything, as long as you know the world build and the rules of the "game". There's a lot more that can be done in the STar Wars sandbox than just rehashing familiar shit for kudos and likes.

But we can set up a few things from what we know prior and from what this set up already has.

Rex is out there, starting the Rebellion, and he's working to free clones--which is perfect in order to get Hunter back. This also sets up the reveal of the chips as well as the fact that it was Fives who discovered them, and it was only by slim chance, that Rex ever escaped in the first place.

Crosshair would understand the logic of leaving Hunter, but the emotional impact of leaving a brother for potential dead, would immediately make him a rival challenging character to Echo. The writing rules of this situation, however, is to make him merely a rival, not a saboteur. Just because someone is a dick, doesn't mean they're going to unscrew the ship engine and tell the enemy where you're at. This is very important to keep in mind.

Each Bad Batcher would have an episode to come to terms with leaving Hunter, facing what their relationship with him meant to them, and dealing with the possibility that he may or may not come back. Part of this is returning to a post-battle Kamino and finding 99 was killed, which would play into why each Batcher is anxious.

Just as well, for emotional character scores that doesn't involve the plot or grief, each Batcher gets an episode to face the galaxy on their own merits, potentially leading them to a finale arc later on for when this initial over-arching plot is over, as a way to either allow the next over-arching plot or to retire the character for now. Rule of writing? It has to bee on their merits alone, not detailing their relationship with their team.

Of course we're going to have team episodes that help define to the audience what kind of relationship with batcher has with one another.

And we're gonna need episodes where the Bad Batchers butt heads with Echo as Echo leads a team that he wasn't a vital part of, and didn't share much history with.

Obviously we have to save Hunter. None of this 3 years separation-dangle-him-in-your-face shit. And Just as the other batchers get their own character episodes, both for their histories and themselves facing the world--Hunter needs those too without the looming threat of the chip. But before we get there, we're going to have fun with his chip episodes but allowing him to have an evil arc with obvious internal conflict--as his true self fights with the evil outside forces controlling his life.

I know I don't like her as she's treated in TBB, but Omega would be an interesting character to use without putting her in the spotlight. We do need someone around who knows their medical. Just maybe she's integral to freeing Hunter...

Because I love a dose of self indulgence, and every writers needs that in their stories, each Batcher gets a Chip episode or Chip Arc in some fashion. Enough to ensure character conflict and growth, and also to inspire fans to create their own Chip AUs. Could be that, because of how CF99 was made, removing their chips are a lot more complicated than just a brain operation on a derelict ship.

New Clones introduced of course. Perhaps those who would've filled in for clones who died in TCWs--like, since Commander Ponds die, who was Windu's new Commander for the rest of the war? And those from TBB, cos let's face it, thems were awesome too. Mayday might just survive this time!

No Guest Characters. If there are, they need to have a serious connection to clones, other wise, someone is robbing story and character for cameo rights, and that's not how you make a story. This is a clone story.

If we're gonna have Rex, we need Cody. Cody needs to be totally chipped as a foremost example of how bad the chip gets. He's meant to serve exactly as he's intended, as he's done in all his appearances, and in this case, he needs to additionally be Rex's rival and antagonist character.

And the final writing rule, the most important one...

Clone stories need to have an element of tragedy and finality. You don't have to kill a main character to get it, but there is no happy ending here.

The happy ending is performed by Luke Skywalker in "Return of the Jedi".

We can only achieve Bittersweet, at best. Everyone can live, and still lose.

Its by this rule, that Order 66 really is the tragedy its born to be and not just an excuse for the plot to get rid of all the Jedi characters.

We should see its direct effects as a clone story, and not just some one handed episode that never becomes relevant again. When this story ends, the loose ends should be on purpose as a message of "Because of the events leading to this story, this rope is permanently cut and can never be tied again. This is not a place of honor, we are survivors of the worst and the world cannot be fixed."

...

I wasn't expecting to write a full episode with a concept board attached, but damn, here you go, a full novel for your question.

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godsiero · 1 month

Text

promises

spencer reid x oc (that you can pretend is bau!fem!reader)

warnings: general cm details, not canon compliant at all (but is written with post-season 14 reid in mind, like, all of his trauma has happened (and also everybody who has worked at the bau, has worked at the bau, and hotch and morgan are back ur welcome)), not a warning but slowest slow burn ever

wc 5073

this is my spencer reid fanfiction debut, please be nice. it is also a self-insert because this is what i daydream about when real life sucks however comma i hate y/n and/or saying my own name when it says y/n so i come up with a fake name, in this case that is "claudia jessup," and you can replace her name with yours for your reading pleasure idc.

chapter 1 of ??? i actually really enjoyed just spewing my stream of consciousness, so sorry if the ramblings seem unnecessary, but they're there for DETAIL!! i have sooooo many ideas for this, so i sure hope i stick with it.

plz provide feedback i love attention (any title rec would be appreciated)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Is Hotch talking to the new agent?” JJ had just got in and asked Emily, who was staring intently into Hotch’s closed blinds.

She turned to face JJ, “Has to be. They’ve been in there since before I arrived.”

“Any idea who they could be?” Derek entered the conversation after wrapping up his phone call.

“No clue, but if they’ve been in there for over an hour and a half, there’s no telling how vital they could be. Hotch rarely spends that much time with one candidate if they don’t mean something.”

“Could also mean they didn’t get the position and have been begging him to reconsider,” Derek chuckled, knowing that’s absolutely a possibility, after all of the candidates they’ve seen since Kate left.

“Funny, but they’d probably be shouting, by now,” JJ countered.

“No shouting detected. In fact, I’ve heard some laughter,” Rossi emerged from his office, wanting to know what everybody was gossiping about, drama queen that he is.

“Really? Wow, if they can manage a lighthearted conversation with Hotch, they’ve gotta be a keeper,” said JJ.

“Keeper they must be, look,” Rossi lifted his chin in the direction of Hotch’s office, where he was opening the door for the new agent to come out.

They all turned to watch as Hotch shook her hand, thanking her for her time, and welcoming her to the team before noticing the audience that had accumulated.

Garcia had caught the very end of this congregation and was the first to congratulate her from afar, “Oh! Is she the new team member, please tell me this is the new team member, I am dying to end this manhunt for a new best friend to go to O’Keefe’s with, and if she’s into Doctor Who and aliens and unicorns, I call dibs on bestest friend number one.”

Hotch had come down the stairs to formally introduce the team to their newest addition, “Everyone, I would like you to meet Dr. Claudia Jessup, who just finished her time at the academy and was instantly recommended by the director to join the BAU. Welcome to the team.”

Emily beamed at her, shaking her hand, “Let me be the first to say congratulations on such a high honor and praise, I’m Emily Prentiss.

JJ was next, “We’re happy to have you here, I’m JJ.”

Penelope was too eager to wait any longer, “Welcome to the BAU, we will be your friends, your family, and your confidants. I would also like to note that the estrogen finally adds up to the testosterone on this team, which is filling me with an enormous amount of serotonin and dopamine that I don’t think will ever be replicated.” She hugged Claudia, who smiled and accepted it. She knew the BAU was a prestigious, close-knit team and already felt the love radiating through the air while meeting everybody.

After being released, Rossi picked up where Penelope left off, “She’s Penelope, by the way, and she doesn’t know a thing about manners, but I do. David Rossi, pasta and wine afficionado, at your service.”

Finally, Derek took his turn to shake her hand, “Doctor, huh? Looks like pretty boy has got some competition, when he gets back. Nice to meet you, name’s Derek, but you can call me whenever you like.”

He shot a wink with his last statement, which forced Emily to chime in, “He does that to everyone, ignore him,” she rolled her eyes and playfully hit his arm while Claudia let out a breathy chuckle.

After she realized everyone was done with their introductions, she took that moment to look at all of them and thank them for welcoming her so ardently. She had an air of professionalism about her that was balanced out with a girlish charm that everybody was instantly drawn to. The entire group was enamored with how young, spritely, and energetic she seemed. Penelope especially liked her style; how it was colorful, yet suitable to be out in the field, but there was something else about her that wasn’t so obviously worn on her sleeve that Penelope couldn’t quite place at the moment.

Hotch had walked away during the meet and greet and came back to interrupt the niceties with the news of a new case, which forced everybody to make their way into the roundtable room.

Since Hotch got the call straight from the director, everybody instantly knew it was high-priority and trumped any and all other cases that could’ve potentially taken their time. Burnt bodies were turning up in random places all over Las Vegas. All of victims had been drowned prior to being burnt. There had been three bodies in the span of three weeks, but what had made it such a dire case in the directors eyes, was that it seemed there were messages being left for a new member of BAU with each new body that was discovered. The M.E. had found pieces of paper in the slit throats of each body, which had been put there after they had been burnt. Seemingly, the unsub had dumped the bodies and then did this last step. The first had said “E.P.” which had been nondescript enough to not garner any worry (besides the fact that a person was dead), but the next had said “J.J.” Yet again, not enough cause to explicitly state this was a targeted message, but it turned some heads. It was when the third body had said “A.H.” the director decided to bite the bullet and come straight to the BAU with the case.

With only that information to go on, they’d all made their way to the jet.

“Should we tell Spence, he could be in trouble,” JJ seemed worked up about that in a way nobody else particularly was.

“No. He has enough to worry about right now with his mother. If the case escalates, we’ll inform him, but everybody should avoid communicating with Reid about this, for now,” Hotch was dead set in this deduction, which nobody argued with, but JJ still seemed anxious about it.

Hotch seemed to sense it, too, because he followed up with, “I’m serious, JJ. If anybody informs Reid about this before I give the okay, I will not be happy about it.”

With that, JJ shook off her anxiety and focused back in on the case, though Claudia could still see something behind her eyes.

The journey on the jet was full of silence. There was no possible way to trace prints or any DNA linked to the unsub, so Garcia had no way of coming up with any new information for the team.

However, it was clear to everyone that this seemed religiously charged.

Genesis 6:17 I am going to bring floodwaters on the earth to destroy all life under the heavens.

2 Peter 3:10 The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything done in it will be laid here.

Enforcing Occam’s razor, the team concluded that there seemed to be no other explanation, especially when it came to something so particular as this unsub’s MO. Until they landed, nothing else was to be discussed.

Claudia had had her headphones in for a while. She’d looked through the file an immeasurable amount of times, trying to memorize it all as best as she could before the jet landed. She was brought out of her trance when she was tapped on the shoulder by Derek.

She looked up at him and saw his mouth move, but didn’t hear what he had said. She took out one headphone while responding with a smile and, “Hey.”

“What are you listening to?”

“Just a podcast,” she lied.

“Are those noise canceling? Because last time I checked, podcasts aren’t loud enough to drown out people talking to me.”

Claudia had picked up on Morgan’s sarcastic way of speaking to people before he even opened his mouth for the first time. She found it reassuring that not everything had to be so serious, even though it was. Two can play at this game.

“They’re not. Sometimes I just don’t feel like talking.”

“Oh! She’s feisty, I like that. Hate to break it to you, but you’re gonna have to talk to some people when you don’t want to.”

She realized he’d taken her statement the wrong way and felt the need to overexplain herself. She couldn’t determine if that was a good or bad idea in the short amount of time she needed to respond to him in, so she settled with a respectfully and equally sarcastic comeback.

“I only have to talk to people when I find it absolutely necessary. Requirement or not,” she quirked her mouth in to a sly, half-smile when Morgan opened his mouth and raised his eyebrows in shock at how quickly she slipped into the energy and nature of this conversation.

“You’re gonna fit right in,” he chuckled and put his own headphones back on his head and went to scroll on his phone.

Claudia went back to rereading the file and placed the headphone she’d taken out back into her ear. She’d never turned the music off.

______________________________________________________________

The case was nearly impossible to solve without reacting to the unsub in real time. Everyone was upset by the very real truth that they wouldn’t be able to act until another body had been found. This unsub truly left no stone unturned when covering their tracks. No paper trail, no electronic footprint, no evidence of where they were coming from or where they were going. Worst of all nobody could think of why they were targeting the BAU, besides the obvious, of course.

The one clue that the team had been given was the fact that the victim’s dental records helped uncover their identities, which gave you one single answer to the unsubs victimology.

Each victim that had been found with an agent's initials in their throat may as well have been that agent’s dopplegänger.

While this obviously helped you figure out who to protect, it did not make it any easier, seeing as the unsub wasn’t going in any obvious order.

It was Friday. The bodies had consistently turned up Saturday morning at six in the morning, but the location changed every time. There was no way of knowing where they would go next. The entire team was at a loss.

For her first case, Claudia felt a little discouraged, but she could sense that everybody else felt the same. This wasn’t normal for them, being so dumbfounded and sitting so idly.

Nobody slept that night, just waiting for the call that a body had been found somewhere in the middle of nowhere, in an alleyway, in a dumpster, quite literally anywhere.

Then, it came. Everybody hopped in the SUV’s and went straight to the scene. Everything was exactly the same here as it was with the last three. They wouldn’t know whose initials were in the throat until the M.E. report came back, which wouldn’t be for hours.

Since they were all here for this body to be examined, and knowing Claudia’s background, Hotch instructed her to come with him to oversee the body pre and post examination. Having an agent with a BS in forensic science and extensive (albeit, sometimes, unapproved) time in the field with the CSI in Philadelphia, was new, useful, and vital and he would like her to be at most if not all of these in the future.

Taking the lead, she asked, “What were the initials found in this body?”

The M.E. pulled out the evidence bag and handed it over. What Claudia saw made no sense to her.

“E.G.? None of our agent’s initials are E.G., does this mean anything to you?” she handed the bag to Hotch and saw how the realization hit him like a truck.

“Greenaway,” he handed the bag back to the examiner, “Elle Greenaway. She was an agent back in 2005. If this unsub is sending a message including past agents, our job just got a lot harder.”

After that discovery, it felt like everything picked up for a few days. There was a media junket, led by Hotch, informing people if they looked like anybody on the screen to be hyper-vigilant, including images of past agents that had since left the team. It felt surreal to warn people that looked like the team to be aware of their surroundings because it was such a subjective judgment to make, but it was the best bet they had of keeping people safe.

Taking it to the news, inevitably, meant Reid found out about it and blew up everybody’s phone. Nobody had answered him, too afraid to unless Hotch did it first.

When he finally gave in and called Hotch, he answered instantly and stepped away from the group.

“Before you say anything, you were on requested leave, in which I am not permitted nor required to inform you of a case,” Hotch began.

“You are absolutely permitted to inform me of a case, if you see fit, which you should’ve, considering this is taking place in the same town where my mother lives and I am visiting,” Reid countered. He was fuming, Hotch could practically feel his phone lighting on fire.

“Reid, it was my call for nobody to contact you, unless the case picked up, which it hasn’t-” he was cut off by Reid.

“What do you mean it hasn’t? If it hasn’t advanced, why are you still here, and why are you holding press conferences about it? Is my mother at risk? Am I at risk?”

“Reid, if your mother was at risk, you would’ve been notified immediately, you know that.”

“Do I? Since you’re not permitted or required to tell me while on requested leave, how do I know when and what you will tell me, if at all?”

“You’re being irrational and you need to calm down.”

“I’ll calm down by the time I get there.”

“Reid, no,” but before he could finish what he was going to say, Reid had hung up the phone. Hotch walked back into the room where the team had been set up for the past week.

“Reid is on his way.”

“Is he okay?” JJ asked.

“He’s upset. Not with any of you. If he shows any hostility, don’t take it personally, it’s all meant for me. I’ll deal with him later.”

Claudia had done copious amounts of research on the team before she officially considered joining the BAU. She’d known for a long time she wanted to pursue something like this, but was never certain how big she wanted to go. Once she got her PhD in forensic psychology, she had made up her mind that the FBI was where she needed to be and set to work on figuring out what department to shoot for. After stumbling upon the BAU and reading all she possibly could about the current team, she knew this was the answer to her lifelong question of where she was going to end up. She read any article she could find about any cases they had solved. She read up on Prentiss’ time at INTERPOL, Garcia’s history as a hacker, Morgan’s time in the military with the bomb diffusion unit, all of Rossi’s books, all of Hotch’s closed cases he’d won in court, JJ’s government reviews from the Pentagon, and all of Reid’s clinical essays ranging from god-knows-what to god-knows-what. She’d taken a particular interest in Dr. Spencer Reid. She didn’t know what she had seen in all of his essays, all of his reports that were accessible (via a database Claudia would never admit to having access to, thanks Roy), all of the TedTalks and seminars he’d given that she’d watched, but there was something about him that begged her to pick his brain as soon as she possibly could, doctor to doctor.

With that, she worked her ass off to be the top performer in her time at the academy and, luckily, her academic credentials preceded her when she met with the director by special request. She needed to be a part of this team. She needed to know all of them on a personal level. Knowing they were profilers, she knew they would see right through her with a glance, so leading up to her time at the academy, she learned to mask her sincerity in a way she’d never been able to. She was used to disguising her real personality for the sake of the people she was around, but she wasn’t used to straight up hiding her genuine emotions from her peers, let alone profilers. She assumed she was doing a good job, considering nobody had given her sideways glances or confused looks, and she was especially proud of the lie she got past Morgan. She wasn’t particularly proud that she was lying to them about how much she knew or what she was really like, but she knew she would let them know, one day. First, she needed them to like her, then she would let them in, once she could trust they wouldn’t judge her.

She was more than disappointed to see that Spencer was not in the bullpen when Hotch introduced her to everyone, but she knew she’d meet him eventually. Unfortunately, the circumstances in which they were meeting under were not what she had been expecting, she was excited to meet him regardless.

She was, truthfully, disgusted with what little restraint she felt inside of her when she first saw him storming through the door. She was riddled with excitement that she hoped nobody caught onto. She calmed herself down because she knew he wouldn’t even glance in her direction, much less introduce himself, right now. She just pretended like she had always been on the team, like they’d met a million times before, like she was just seeing her friend who’s been gone for a few weeks.

Before Spencer even made it into the meeting room, Hotch stopped him in his tracks.

“You need to take a breath before you go in there and take your anger at me out on somebody else.”

“Hotch, I am calm. You know that isn’t how I behave,” he pushed past Hotch and into the room where only you and Morgan were, “Brief me.”

Morgan hesitated because of Spencer’s hostile behavior, but Claudia jumped right into briefing him on the entire case thus far with that same confidence and ease she showed back in the bullpen, leaving Morgan with his eyebrows raised at how naturally and casually she fit right into the missing piece of the BAU’s puzzle. Hotch just crossed his arms because he knew this is exactly what was going to happen once everybody got to see her in action the same way he had in the academy and in his office that morning.

Once she had finished getting Spencer up to speed, he nodded his head and said, “Okay. We need to head back to the coroner’s office, I think I know of something we might’ve missed.”

Instead of taking this as an insult, Claudia took it as an ignorance of her education, since he didn’t know who she was. In reality, he did know about her background, but he also knew if anybody had sent the handwriting to be analyzed, she would’ve said that in her brief.

Not missing a beat, she started heading out of the building and to the SUV, following closely behind Spencer, who was handing his theory over to her, and she was still pretending like they had done this for years. Silently thinking to herself she should’ve been an actor.

As they got into the SUV, with Claudia behind the wheel, Spencer began to ramble, “I think we could find something based on the handwriting. We’ll need to take the evidence and make an analysis. It seems this person is comfortable here in Vegas, so they either have to be a local or somebody who moved here a long time ago. Judging by how random the places they’ve been dumping the bodies are and how much foot traffic those locations get both during the day and at night, this person has to have a keen awareness of when, if ever, these locations are barren and lacking people. Point is, this person could’ve attended school or certainly worked in the city, which would mean there could be handwriting samples anywhere in the city, if we know where to look, which we do, thanks to Garcia.” During his last sentence, he had taken out his phone and called Garcia.

“Garcia, I’m heading back to the coroner’s office with Claudia. I think we may be able to run a handwriting analysis that I’ll need you to run through the entire city of Las Vegas as far back as you possibly can.”

Hearing him say her name and know who she was was a shock she certainly wasn’t expecting. Had somebody told him about her already? That wasn’t farfetched at all. Did he know anything else about her? If he did, he didn’t show it, hell, she didn’t even know he had known who she was. Maybe she wasn’t as good at this as she thought. Granted the game he was possibly playing with her was the same game she was definitely playing with everybody else. She pretended it was completely normal that he knew her name without introducing herself.

“I know it’s a high ask, but you can do it. I’ll send it over the second I get it,” he hung up the phone and continued to ramble, “If that ends up being a dead end, we may just have to follow a paper trail, which won’t be impossible, but I’d have to do it alone while everybody else waits around for me, but I guess that’s all that’s been happening anyway, considering this unsub is not making our jobs any easier, but I suppose that’s part of whatever this insane plan is that they’ve got going on. Has anybody thought about going to the churches? That would also be a dead end, but it’s something we could try. We can’t even come up with a profile to give to these people so it would seem unfair and useless to tell every person in the city to watch their back.”

She sat there in silence, not wanting to interrupt in case he started again. When she said nothing, he looked over at her, confused.

“You didn’t interrupt me. Or tell me to stop.”

Trying to control herself, without looking over at him, she said “Why would I do that?”

“That’s the general reaction people have when I don’t stop talking,” he seemed shy and bashful, now that he was explaining this to her.

“Well, I don’t particularly enjoy when people interrupt me, so I’m not too keen on doing it to others.”

He continued to look at her. Trying to figure out where she was coming from. He noticed she hadn’t reacted when he knew her name, despite having not formally introduced each other, which he found intriguing, to say the least. Truthfully, Morgan had texted him the second after she was introduced to the team, teasing Spencer, saying he had some young, brainiac competition now. Spencer ignored that and had Garcia send over her file. He may or may not have done some of his own research as well. He’d found her dissertation, her four theses, and her handwritten files she made for cases she’d participated on during her time as a CSI agent (thank you, Garcia), and he was certainly very close to admitting that Morgan might have been correct. He had read everything he could possibly find about her right after Morgan told him who she was. He had only meant to read her dissertation, but then he knew she must’ve had a thesis, and upon looking for one, he had stumbled upon four. Each one was even better than the last, but none so eloquent and intuitive as her dissertation. “The effectiveness of integrating forensic psychology to enhance criminal therapy rehabilitation success rates.” He had already committed it to memory and had a laundry list of questions to ask her about it, as well as her theses, which, if you looked close enough, foreshadowed her dissertation beautifully, like they were all apart of a book series, as if she had been planning them from the beginning of her academic career, like she hadn’t needed the degrees, and she just got them for the sole purpose of knowing that getting them would get her ideas published in a dignified way.

He chuckled at the thought, which prompted her to ask, “What? Is that funny?”

He realized he had never responded to her initial statement, so he responded now, “No, no, not funny at all. Respectable, actually. No, I was just thinking that we haven’t formally met. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.”

It was her turn to chuckle, “Thank you for the formality, but I already knew that, and it seems you already know who I am as well, but…Dr. Claudia Jessup.” This time, she did glance over at him and gave a tight-lipped smile.

He smiled and looked down at his hands that he was fidgeting with, “You would be right. Morgan told me about you the morning you were added to the team…and I…might’ve asked Garcia for your file.”

“Oh, really? Got a head start on me, then,” she lied to her teammate for the second time since joining the team, and it didn’t feel any better this time.

There was a long, comfortable silence after she spoke. Neither of them knew what to say, but both of them desperately wanted to ask the other about the papers they’d written, the research they’d done to write those papers, how they came up with the ideas for those papers, what led them to choose those degrees that required them to write those papers, obsessively wanting to ask every single question they had under the sun about their academic influence and passion, but just as they both got the courage to finally ask a single question they were thinking of, they’d arrived back at the hospital.

_____________________________________________________________

The handwriting analysis turned out to be a dead end, as each note had a different type of handwriting that seemed intentional. Garcia found no trace of the handwriting used in any of the fonts in any Las Vegas directory and Spencer found nothing when it came to a paper trail, even considering every style. Fast as he was, it took him a whole two weeks to get through everything that was sent to him, and in that time one more body had been found after E.G. This one had said K.C. Kate Callahan. The agent who had just left the team. A week after that no body had been discovered. SWAT, CSI, bloodhounds, and local police searched everywhere, but found no trace of any victims matching this unsubs MO on Saturday or the week following. Just like that, the case went cold, and they headed home. Not reassured in the slightest. The fact that two bodies showed up while the team was there and no unsub was found was not going to bode well with the director, but there was nothing that could’ve been done.

Spencer said goodbye to his mom and got on the plane home with everybody. It was secretly an opportunity to pick a certain doctor’s brain, but he’d never let anybody know that was the real reason he didn’t stay a little longer. His requested leave was over anyway.

Everyone had settled in on the jet except for Claudia. Hotch stopped her on her way to the couch.

“Hey, have a seat.”

Having got to know Hotch a little before all of this started, she felt truly comfortable speaking with him. No anxiety, no fear of lying to him, she felt like for the first time in three and a half weeks she could just be herself.

“Oh no, do you want me to hand in my resignation letter now?” she joked, earning a small breath out of Hotch, acknowledging that he did find that funny.

“No. I want to talk to you about your performance your first time out in the field.”

The aforementioned nervousness was back, and not hidden at all.

“You don’t need to be worried. You did a great job. I need you to know that wasn’t how our cases usually go. There’s never so much waiting around, and we’re normally led in a certain direction rather than stuck at a standstill for so long. Cases don’t usually go cold for us. I don’t want you to think it’ll be like this every time.”

She nodded her head, knowing already that that was not how their cases went (she’d read every case file this team had ever submitted to the database, again, thanks Roy), “Don’t worry, I know. The director wouldn’t have directly sent the team there if he had known it was so…hopeless. Forgive my pessimism, but there’s not another word I could think of.”

“You’re right. Some cases end poorly, but at least they end. We may or may not have to come back to this later on. I know that you can accept that this might stay open for a while and it might never be solved. I just wanted to reassure you that most of our other cases won’t be like this.”

“Thank you. Not to say I look forward to it, but…”

“I understand. Now go get some rest, you’ve earned it.”

Claudia got up and continued walking toward the couch, putting her headphones in and starting her music before she even sat down. As she got up, Spencer saw that Hotch was finished speaking to her, and got up from his own spot to follow her to the couch, but Hotch had stopped him in his pursuit.

“Reid.”

He halted his forward motion and Hotch gestured for him to sit down.

“I’m not mad at you and I would like to apologize for not telling you sooner. The case seemed like it could’ve been solved sooner and without your input. My intention was to not bother you while you were spending time with your mother, since I know this time is especially important for you to spend with her.”

Spencer wasn’t shocked that Hotch was apologizing, persay, but he was expecting to be given a stern talking-to. His eyebrows rose at the admission, but he thanked Hotch for the apology, anyway. He would know a thing or two about loss. Spencer knew that.

Hotch let him go and he set back to his initial mission: speaking to Claudia.

Had he seen that she had headphones in, he would’ve left her alone, but they were so discreet that he couldn’t tell she had any in underneath her hair. He’d never admit this, but he did, in fact, want to tuck it behind her ears. For no reason besides the ability to know if she had headphones in or not. Obviously.

She’d pulled out a book in the time it took Hotch to speak to him, but he sat down next to her anyway. She noticed this and looked up from the book and took out one headphone, not stopping the music the same way she’d done with Derek.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were listening to something,” he’d started to get up.

“No, it’s fine. Do you need something?” this time, she did pause what she was listening to.

“Not exactly…” he had no idea how to go about telling her she’d written the most glorious dissertation he’d ever seen and needed to know everything about it starting with how she thought of it and ending with her research.

Meanwhile, Claudia had been thinking, relatively, the same thing. She’d had no intention of asking Spencer about his writings on the way home, but since he approached her, now seemed like the perfect time. Enough time had passed that it would seem reasonable for her to have done research on the team now that she’d been on it for three weeks. It wouldn’t seem weird that she had read his journals, now.

At the exact same time, they both said:

“I want to talk to you about your dissertation.”

The two just looked at each other, shocked at what had just happened. Both had grins slowly growing on their faces before they both just started laughing.

With that, they both knew they were going to like “the other doctor.”

chapter two

#Spencer Reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x oc #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #bau team #bau family #incorrect criminal minds #criminal minds #slow burn #writing #creative writing

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sygneth · 1 year

Text

Echoes of Elysium | Disco Elysium AU ...something?

Warnings

General warnings for my blog's content applies. Check here.

This AU is (rather) not very alternative. I am just trying to develop further events and some background for the characters, but even though I'm making research and I try to stay canon-compliant, only to fill in the gaps, I cannot guarantee it will never happen. Especially in this fandom, where many interpretations and paths are equally canon, we may not agree on some things, I hope you'll enjoy my point of view nevertheless. Some episodical OCs will appear too.

INDEX

EOE on ComicFury!

EOE on Tumblr:

Chapter 1: New Beggings -> START

EOE on AO3:

Main plot (uhh still in the process of uploading!)

Ficlet series (additional content)

LORE:

Precinct 41 plans and explanation

Plot outline

After Martinaise things are slowly getting back to normal, but the general atmosphere in the city gets thickens every day, La Retour is hanging in the air. Despite this, Harry is trying to stay sober and make amends. It's hard to say if Kim's appearance on the 41st is making things easier or harder between Harry and his old friends.

The Return happens. In the after-revolutionary mess, everybody tries to move on, but things are changing in almost every aspect of life. And on top of this, a particularly hard case drops and somebody has to take care of it.

The start of the project is directly after Martinaise, so forgive me this vague description, but I would hate to spoil the plot haha.

Okay, from now on additional info, still important but not crushial.

I want to focus on the relationship between the people of Precinct 41 and their internal experiences. Impactful events and thicker action will happen too, but mostly in the later chapters of this.

There are also some important premises of this AU I would like to highlight:

Kim was raised in an orphanage, presumably held by some Dolorian organisation (order?). Some of his old-fashioned manners and vocabulary are remainings after growing up in a religious environment (even if he's not very religious himself).

Eyes died around 9 months before the events from the game. Since then, Kim has been willingly working alone. His superiors were not very fond of that but somehow he managed not to get partnered with anyone.

Harry has no known family members left. At least as far as he and his friends know.

Jean and Harry's partnership started four, maybe five years ago. According to the game, it was "two years minimum" but personally I think those losers were stuck with each other for much longer.

Jean's years-long, unexplained depression has roots in some sort of personality disorder. Also, he is codependent on Harry, probably co-addicted too. He had problem with speed himself, however it's not nearly as serious as Harry's. I see him as more of a weekend/party drug user, as for now.

I assume that since the communist revolution gay relationships were technically legal in Revachol. Technically, because there are still no rights for same-sex couples and the social recognition is poor and rather negative (I got inspired by my own country in that matter)

That's all I can think of now. I will probably just add new information in the description of he pages.

Okay, cool, one last thing. What do you mean by "...something?"? Is this a comic? A fanfiction series? What am I looking at?

The answer is: I don't yet know. I am planning this to be mostly a comic, but I cannot say there won't be some written as fanfics parts or some kind of in-between media. I don't really want to limit myself to one medium only, but at this point, I have no idea what this will evolve into. I honestly just want to have fun lol

#let's bring it on #disco elysium #disco elysium fanart #informative #echoes of elysium #my art #sort of?

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mdhwrites · 2 months

Note

When it comes to fanfiction, what are your thoughts on OCs/self-inserts (I'm aware there's a difference between the two)?

So I know both of theirs reputation. In many's eyes, one is just a more extreme version of the other. Both are seen as wish fulfillment on the writer's part and thus are written poorly by default as a part of making them the most special thing that special'd. What is interesting to me in this regard is that this is actually just the same problem that the writers of the OG content face when introducing a new character but the writer doing it doesn't realize the landmine they're potentially walking onto.

Have you ever seen a long running show, even maybe just a couple seasons, and when they add a new character they get a bad reception? "They're just a copy of this character!" "They aren't nearly as deep as the cast that's already there!" "What purpose do they serve to this story except to let the writers... Add their own OC." This is because the audience is going to be inherently biased towards the characters who are already there. Trying to add a new MAIN character is always going to be difficult because it inherently means shifting the balance of the work, especially because the new character is going to need a lot of time to flesh out their place in the ensemble. Starlight Glimmer is an example, where the season after her started with a lot of episodes that were in someway focused on her so she could prove her good girl status or show how she was different from Twilight Sparkle because that's just what needs to happen with a new character.

But I want to emphasize this: OCs/Backlash on a character like this is predominantly a MAIN character problem. You want to throw in a random self insert who gets two lines and then dips out? Few, if anyone, is going to care because hey, you needed a rando there so why not just a quick cameo? This is the style the Marvel movies took with Stan Lee. His cameos were never that much a problem because they were usually a quick joke. They didn't detract from the characters you were there to see.

Which brings us to why this problem is SO. MUCH. WORSE. when it comes to fanfiction. One of the strengths of fanfiction from a novice writer's perspective is that a lot of criticism is going to be softballed because the audience is primed to just enjoy the work regardless because they just are there for more time with the characters they love. For an experience writer like me, I could theoretically be experimental with my stories more on Ao3 as a test bed for if those would work in general because I'm not going to get a one star review for the formatting, I'll get a comment going "This was weird but MAN I loved seeing X do Y." Your audience being inherently primed to enjoy your work is one of the joys of being a fanfic writer because it means it's so much easier to find your audience.

That also means it's really easy for original elements to be seen as hostile. As invading the space, especially if they're overshadowing the rest of the cast. The audience isn't here for your original characters after all. They're here for the characters they already enjoy. It makes me think of how the most famous OC of MLP's fandom... Is Nyx, at least from fanfiction. That or Pip but both use sleight of hand in order to get away with this. Nyx is not a wholly an OC. They are a mix of two characters explicitly. Nightmare and Luna, just turned into a filly. So instead of "Check out my OC," it's "Check out my alternative version Princess Luna/Nightmare Moon." Littlepip meanwhile is in a Fallout AU in an Equestria that is, well, a post apocalypse. That isn't MLP at that point. That's just original fiction and so your expectations change because you don't actually know from go if your favorite characters are going to be there so you're more there for the blending of media. Any appearances by canon characters becomes a treat and so Littlepip doesn't have to compete with them. I've also never read either of these stories, I'm just going off of what I've absorbed since I know these characters are commonly liked and what their concepts are. This is also not a condemnation of either character, both need to be well written to be as popular as they are or else they would have been discarded, just that they don't have as much of an uphill battle as literally just dropping a new character in the media world you enjoy has.

The other way you can bypass this is to make them narratively subservient to a character. What I mean by that is that they clearly are there to push another main character's arc and the like. As such, they don't feel as much like a main character, they feel like interesting supporting cast to one of the characters already is primed to like. Pretty much any Apple Family OC is going to fall into this so long as the story also heavily includes Applejack or Apple Bloom. Babs Seed is literally just this where her connection to the Apples and how she challenges them makes her immediately compelling to the audience because we want to see that. A looooot of one off characters honestly fall into this category, with the added bonus that they're not main characters, they're supporting cast.

So with all of this, I think it begs the question: Are OCs/Self Inserts treated unfairly? Well... That's really fucking complicated. As I pointed out above, the well written and the well conceived can absolutely be liked. It has maybe fallen a bit out fashion post MLP but a lot of fandoms probably have semi-famous that just got popular enough to start being passed around. An OC can be well received so long as they're done well. The reason so few are done well is honestly tragically simple: You have now taken one of the hardest parts of original writing and added the biggest downside of fanfiction with none of the strengths of fanfiction.

I have said that I became an original writer because I found myself limited by fanfiction. That the AUs I made were essentially irrecognizable, or not materially added to, by being fanfiction. This is because the one mandate, the one restriction, of fanfiction is that you have to work within the boundaries of the media you are in. Those boundaries are looser than an original story but there are limits. You make an alicorn OC in MLP fanfic will ask questions because doesn't that make them a princess? So now you have to add someone entirely from whole cloth, robbing you of the bonuses of fanfiction, while making sure they contort to the rules of the fiction, rather than ever being able to bend those rules for the sake of the character and their story. This can actually make it really good practice for making original characters for an original story because of those extra challenges but that's not how most fanfic authors look at it. It's just adding a character, or themselves, into a story because they're excited to do so. That is a recipe for disaster.

I also think it is given too much shit for the same reason. Unless the person touts their OC as perfectly written... Let them enjoy their trash. Fanfiction is for the writer before it is ever for the reader after all. If you can empathize with why a person adds themselves into a story, which is an entire blog on its own, then it can help you see a poorly written OC and go, "This isn't for me." And then leave. You do not have to be a dick about it, they're just trying to enjoy themselves.

As a note: This is why I so very, VERY rarely go after fanworks. I do not want to shit on people just for wanting to create and play. It's just discouraging so unless I have a larger point I can make through the work, an actual lesson to teach rather than just dragging it through the mud, I'm not even going to bother talking about it. I'm just being a dick then.

And a lot of the push against OCs and Self Inserts in fanfiction fall into and I hope that hasn't discouraged people from making the stories they want to like it did for me with my first ever piece of fanfiction. See you all next tale.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

#writing advice #Fanfiction #Original Fiction #OC #Self Insert

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night-unfurls-its-splendour · 1 year

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Susan Kay's 'Phantom' Read: Part I (Madeleine)

I'm gonna start by voicing a deep dislike and annoyance for the endorsements on the back.

"Adds new depth and perspective, moving well beyond the familiar bounds of the story..." -- Publisher's Weekly

... No, it doesn't. It offers ONE person's take while actively circumventing, contradicting and ignoring canon. You can't "add new perspective" to someone else's work by making up your own shit. This is nothing more or less than Fanfiction. And Fanfiction is by no means bad, but just because it follows the basic timeline outlined by the original author, that doesn't make it any more legitimate than any other transformative/derivative work just because it's in book form.

Even more aggravating is this, from School Library Journal:

"Phantom of the Opera fans no longer need to ponder what was in Erik's past, as Kay has created one for him in this deeply moving, poignant story . . . This sad, but beautiful, novel will be especially popular with [those] who have enjoyed the current musical."

I hate that this is actively encouraging readers to accept this dross as canon. "No need to draw your own conclusions, just ape off of this author!"

All of my above statements about how THIS IS VERY MUCH NOT CANON AND SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN CONFLATED WITH LEROUX CANON TO THE EXTENT THAT IT WAS stand.

Like whether you enjoy it or not, IT'S NOT CANON.

Anyway, onto 'Madeleine'

My first question is, did Kay name her this so that later, when Erik talks about marrying Christine at the Madeleine Church, she could point back to this and go "Haha! Mommy issues!"?

Now that's aside...

So, I actually liked the writing quite a bit. There are some decently witty phrases here and a few even made me chuckle.

I personally think she spent way more time than she needed to on Madeleine, who is, I won't mince words here, an OC. There's so many details I just don't want or need.

I will be honest, I think Kay did a good job capturing Erik’s troubling characteristics and applying them what he would perhaps have been like as a child.

My biggest problem is the Renesmee of it all.

I dislike the fact that infant Erik is portrayed as having a kind of consciousness. Of course, Madeleine is an unreliable narrator, so it could easily be that she simply projected an unnatural consciousness onto him out of fear, but I somehow doubt that this is what Kay was aiming for. The way she has Madeleine describe Erik as an infant seems to indicate that, from the moment he was born, he has understood himself to be afflicted and different, which I deeply dislike.

It has always seemed to me, that, whatever skills and gifts Erik employed, Leroux's point was that, under it all, he really was nothing more than a man; that, had he been treated with acceptance, he would not have been very different to any other man. No bizarre consciousness bestowed upon him as a curse on his mother for the sin of vanity made Erik into the haunting soul that he is.

And that really does seem to be the implication here, which is a problem for me. Its one thing to write Erik's mother regarding him as a punishment from God, its quite another to actually support that idea in the text by having him develop, not only intellectually, but physically, beyond the bounds of humanity. Crawling at six months, sure. Speaking at six months and walking at 9? No. Absolutely not. We're not doing this.

Even his deformity is treated as something supernatural (which is REALLY annoying, since we know that Leroux prided himself on even his outlandish writing choices being based in reality and accepted medical knowledge of the time. We KNOW he consulted doctors about potential diseases upon which he could base Erik’s disorder (which is likely either congenital syphilis, or Gunther Disease).

Erik became what he was because he was a child like any other and couldn't understand why he was denied the affection and attention he craved as a basic instinct, what nature dictates as natural; denied his first and most basic human right--a mother's love.

It's so much more meaningful and logical that hope should be drained from him gradually as his mother continually rejects the natural order; that he should gradually come to conclude that he is an exception to Nature's established rules, and this then is what drives Erik to build himself into something extraordinary, using the exceptionally favourable gifts he was granted by God and nature.

Now I've heard about what a bitch Madeleine is, but honestly she's not half as bad as what I was expecting (at least from her own narrative). That she takes the trouble to try and educate him herself is interesting to me, but also kind of silly. Kay grants child!Erik an intellect and developmental speed that is "Nothing short of preturnatural". If you're going to treat him like a supernaturally intelligent being then why spend so much real estate on his education?

I'm also not sold on the idea that canon!Erik's mother would ever have put that much effort into fostering his intellect.

But then in my head-canon, Erik's mother put it about that Erik died in the cradle shortly after his birth and kept him hidden for his entire childhood (which frankly, I think, is the more realistic scenario--but then I would, its my headcanon).

Also, you remember when I talked about Kay ignoring and contradicting canon?

Erik has "mis-matched eyes" in this book. That's from the musical. Also he's Christened a "Erik" here (his mother tells the priest to give the baby his own name). Erik isn't actually Erik's birth name in Leroux. It's a name he adopted "By chance" in his adult life.

Overall I found this whole section very tedious, but perhaps the most upsetting thing about it for me was this.

I was told that Erik's mother is a bitch (big surprise, we all knew that).

So I was expecting gross neglect, constant verbal abuse, physical abuse etc.

Well it was surprisingly light on all of that. In fact Madeleine is self-aware enough, with the help of another OC, her friend Marie (who is the only person in this book with any rights, imho) that she's lacking as a mother, and feels guilty about this.

She even ***Spoilers*** comes around to a point where she comes to terms with having Erik for a son... just in time for him to run away after his beloved dog gets killed by a mob of local boys.

What NO ONE MENTIONED and what I found just absolutely, insane, unnecessary, and repugnant, is the treatment of Erik's voice as being inherently sexual from birth.

This excerpt, from page 7, describing Madeleine's first experience of hearing Erik cry as a newborn, sets the tone for the first half of her narrative:

And then he cried! I have no words to describe the first sound of his voice and the extraordinary response it evoked in me. I had always considered the cry of a newborn to be utterly sexless--piercing, irritating, curiously unattractive. But his voice was a strange music that brought tears rushing to my eyes, strangely seducing my body so that my breasts ached with a primitive and overwhelming urge to hold him close.

And is followed by these little gems:

I had begun to be afraid of the manner in which his voice was manipulating me. It seemed evil somehow, almost . . . incestuous.

Whatever spiritual ecstasy Father Mansart derived from those throbbing notes, my response was utterly and unequivocally physical.

The words were for God; but the voice, the exquisite, irresistible voice was for me and it pulled like a magnet somewhere deep and unseen inside my body.

I find these so particularly repugnant because after a little while this fixation with Madeleine sexualizing her son's voice... just stops. It goes nowhere, and there's no real reason given for why it stops being a theme. I'm completely baffled and disturbed as to why this is in here at all, especially because Leroux describes Erik's voice in many ways (angelic, sweet, beautiful, pure, triumphant, powerful, sinister) but he never explicitly attributes sexual attraction to it, even from Christine's perspective. Christine is so viscerally transported by the beauty of his song because it is beautiful music and she's a freak for music, not because his voice's default setting is "automatic aphrodisiac".

Erik does seduce Christine with his voice, that's absolutely true, but only because that's what he intends it to do, not because that's just what it does on its own.

Masterpost

#phantom of the opera #poto #commentary on 'Phantom'#kaynon vs. canon

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gilly-billy · 2 months

Text

O-KAY

So here is part of my fanfiction for the evil dead starring my oc Gilly. She's got a thing for older men so Old! Ash is her main crush or w/e. @htchnr I do hope you enjoy this and I hope that you get a feel for Gilly's personality. Let me know if you need anything else that helps. Enjoy guys!

"You really should smile more." Ash says nonchalantly one afternoon. Gilly, the person said dialogue was meant for, looked at him with a long hard stare, holding a sub between her hands. Ash, stared back, sometimes looking into his dark eyes was like staring into a void. *A really handsome void.* she thinks to herself.Gilly sat her sandwich down on the paper it had been wrapped in and she sighed.

"I smile plenty I think." She responds with a delicate raise of her eyebrow. Ash snorted a little and looked back to the road. "What?" Gilly asked, a hunt of agitation in her voice. "Its just my face dude." She says picking up her sandwich again.

"You smile about as often as I use condoms....and spoiler alert baby cakes, I don't." Gilly rolled her eyes and shook her head. She looked down to her lap, contemplating wheither she should just ignore his tactless comment and continue eating the pastrami sub that called her name.

"First of all hot shot.." Gilly began in response. She hated how he got her to respond everytime he said something stupid. "We are going to have a long conversation later on, on how wrong that is.."

"What not using a condom?" He asks with an amused grin. "Look I'm old baby, there's no way my little shooters are gonna make it to the prize-" Gilly cut him off.

"I said later!" Her voice was stern and surprisingly enough Ash fell quiet and scowled at her. " Second of all, why would I smile? All my life and in the past week of meeting you, we've been fighting dead things all the time and either I almost get decapitated or doused in blood. Not to mention we barely showered because you're allergic to water or something. Not a big reason to smile all the time." She vented, picking up her sandwich and taking that much desired first bite.

Ash stared at the road for a short while, moving his jaw like he was knawing on something. Gilly ate her sandwich without batting an eye, humming happily with every bite.

"You know, I'll excuse the fact that you were rude just now, because you're hot." The older man says without batting an eye. He smiles confidently. "I am who I am baby, take me as I am." That got a scoff from Gilly who couldn't focus on her food anymore.

"It's rude, yeah, but its true." She began.

"You don't shower and all the food in your fridge is moldy save for what I've made you." She turned in the front seat to look at him.

"Now that's not true." Ash said with a smile, sounding like he was about to make a point. "I've got that chili that one broad at that mexican joint made for me - er I mean us! And I shower, just not as often as you."

"Once a month isn't keeping clean Ash and she wanted to watch you suffer because of how hot it is AND might I add you tried to sleep with her daughter."Gilly deadpanned. Ash was busy thinking about that girl, and a smile, a terribly devious one, spread on his face.

"Oh...she was fine Gilly, grade A." Ash sighed, mourning the loss of such a conquest.She just watched him, in embarassment. That lady he spoke of had a daughter and she was just above legal age. Ash tried so hard and failed epically when the mom found out.

"That's....that's fucking gross Ash and you're an idiot." Gilly gave him a nasty look and it didn't phase that smile on his ruggid face at all. "A perverted idiot." She finished. Ash's eyes went back to the road and he reached between them, grabbing a can from the cooler.

"Says you." He laughed again. "I'm the one that did it! Time for a road beer baby!" He popped the tab on the can and took a nice long drink, sighing crisply as he sat the beer in the cup holder.

Gilly went back to eating her sandwich, hoping and praying that he wouldnt say anything more disguisting. Thank the gods he didn't because Ash reached across to the radio and turned the song up. She stopped chewing for a second before she recognized it. She perked up.

"Greta Van Fleet..." she said with a smile. "Safari Song....I didn't know you listened to them?" Ash gave a small chuckle and looked over at her.

"They sound like Zepplin right?" He asked. Gilly nodded vigorously. "That a girl, you know your music." He gave her a wink and looked back out the wind shield. "I asked a friend to find me some music, and he didn't disappoint." When Ash winked at her, Gilly felt her cheeks flush, a heat building under her skin in response. She looked away then, casually mind you and went back to eating. She wondered why a guy like him made her blush at all.

_________

An hour and a half later, the Delta pulled up in front of a dingy looking house with an airstream parked in the driveway. There was a motorbike parked infront of it and two others sitting under the awning of the airstream. Gilly hadn't met them before.

"Alright doll eyes, listen up." Ash said softly. "You're about to meet my family.." he said scratching the side of his face nervously.

"I'm telling you this because I uh...have a reputation..." Gilly could see his aura fluttering nervously. She sighed softly.

"Ah...your track record with women right?" She about snorted when his eyes widened and then Ash furrowed his brows as he looked down.

"Look....I get around ok? They're probably gonna think we're banging or something. I just felt like I should warn you." The look in his dark eyes was genuine and his aura didnt waver one second when he spoke, he was telling the truth.

"There is no way you work that fast." She laughed. " we've known each other for..what? 2 days?" It was more like a week, but Gilly was skeptical. That was, until Ash smirked at her and gave her a debonair eye brow raise, she felt the air shift a little.

"Baby...you have no idea what I can do." His voice dropped, it was low and sultry and Gilly squinted her baby blues at him. And then just like that, it was gone. "But that's not the point, but if you stick around long enough you might find out." The way he said it was like he was a sales man, teasing an offer, an unknown offer that you wouldnt be able to gauge if it were good or bad until you tried it. Gilly didn't like that, he was too good at it.

"Ash.....shut up please." She said, desperately hoping he would get the memo. Ash just lifted his hands in surrender, knowing if he crossed the line any further she would turn him into a newt or something. Witches were fickle in his opinion.

"Shutting up now." He responded while opening the door and getting out. Gilly could hear Ash holler to whoever was sitting under the awning and she wondered if they were just as nuts as he was. Gilly took a deep breath as she opened the door and slowly got out and headed over, shutting the Delta's passenger door behind her. As she approached she studied the way Ash was with the other two under the awning. It was like watching a father reunite with his kids. Gilly found it endearing.

"Gilly come on! Meet Pablo and Kelly!" He waved for her and the little witch smiled in response. Maybe there was more to him than what he presented on the outside. Ultimately, Gilly joined them. Maybe she could find a family here too.

-----

Part 2

"Put your back into it Pablo!" Ash hollered as they attempted to get a new couch into his trailer. Kelly and Gilly sat on his bed as they watched the two struggle to get it through the small airstream door. Kelly looked on, bored and Gilly sat there with a cringed look on her face. It wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't blatantly obvious that it wasn't going to fit through the tiny door. The couch was simply too big.

"Ash...do you need some help?" Gilly asked pushing herself off the bed to stand. The gruff older man looked at her with a scowl, those dark brown eyes told Gilly to stay put, before shaking his head.

"Gils you and Kelly rest your pretty little heads, me and Pablo got it....right Pablo?" It took a second but a muffled "Totally got it!! "Came from around the couch from outside. From the looks of it, Ash was being macho, trying to show that he and Pablo could handle and sweat the big stuff so they didn't have to do it.

Gilly then decided to lean over to Kelly and with a smile she said "Watch this." She twists her hand a little and the door shifts and becomes bigger right before their eyes. Pablo was still putting his back into it, like Ash said and as he did the couch squished Ash between it and the wall. A loud oof!! Could be heard from him as the air was knocked out of his lungs.

"See! A little elbow grease goes a long way!" Ash chimed, his face lit up with a proud smile. He grunted in approval and slipped out from the side, dusting his hands off as the couch tumbled to a perfect position. Pablo leaned against the door frame and looked at it suspiciously, his eyes bugging in confusion.

"Jefe did your door grow?" Pablo asked cautiously.

"What? No of course not!" He responded plopping down on its very fluffy cushion. "That was all us amigo!" He cracked open a beer and took a celebratory drink. Meanwhile Kelly and Gilly both watched Ash go on in peaceful bliss that they in fact didn't do it on their own and Gilly's intervention was 100% needed. The look on Pablo's face was worth it in the long run.

"Congratulations." Kelly deadpanned with a skeptical smile. Gilly sat beside her with a grin, realizing that seeing Ash smile like that, all proud and confident, made her little heart flutter. Her cheeks flushed and her face felt hot. She was so thankful it was the middle of summer, she could blame it on the heat and not on Ash.

------

Sweat dripped down her face as Gilly panted. Her arms were out stretched and she grit her teeth with a growl. Gilly had cast a spell to keep the deadites locked in, no way in and no way out. The shitty down side of this proverbial coin? She, along with the others, were trapped inside with them.

No one warned her that it was harder to fight deadites when it was 102 degrees out. She could hear guns firing and she could see Kelly fending off a hord as Pablo got her six. She took note that Pablo could use magic as well and she stored that thought for later. They were doing a fantastic job all things considered. She felt faint just then, trying desperately not to lose consciousness. She fell to one knee, crying out as she forced herself to keep the barrier up.

"I got you kid!" Ash's voice boomed past the commotion as he came to her side. A big arm was wrapped around her torso and she was hoisted up into the air, she was being held against Ash's side. "Let's fuck em up beautiful!!" He declared with a grin. Gilly pushed back the blush on her cheeks and she dropped the barrier.

"Omnus zarata ezpara!!" The words boomed from Gilly's lips as lightning rained on every single deadite, blasting their heads clean off their shoulders and reducing their bodies to ashes. Gilly fell back against Ash, panting as her arms fell to her sides. She was so thankful he had a hold of her right now, otherwise she'd be a heap in the dirt.

"Holy shit!!!!!" Ash hollered as he laughed, hearty and loud as he twirled Gilly around giving her a huge bear hug.

Kelly and Pablo came up to them shortly after as Gilly lifted her head, looking between all of them as they celebrated with hoots and hollers. Gilly blushed, her cheeks so red that it started to hurt.

As Ash let her down onto her feet, their eyes met and they lingered on each other. There was this look in his chocolate eyes that she had never seen before. It made her body feel hot and a prickle form under her skin. As he let her down, his hand trailed down her arm and Ash took her hand, giving it a squeeze as he grinned. Then as soon as it happened he was raising both arms and hooting again.

"And that's how we take care of business! Let's drink!!"

-------

He was hovering around her. Gilly thought it odd at first and chalked it up to her being paranoid. But,she noticed that Ash started sitting closer to her, always within arms reach, sometimes closer. Slowly, over the span of a few weeks, it turned into the two of them sitting together, Ash's arm draped behind her. Gilly wasn't sure when this happened but she decided not to fight it.

Maybe this was just their dynamic? Maybe she was reading into things a little too much. It didn't become solidified until one night she found herself alone with him in his trailer.

"When you hit this stuff Gilly, your mind is gonna be blown." He says with a confident smile. "You'll melt right into the couch and don't you worry because I'll be melting right there with you." Gilly adored how reassuring his smile was. Once finished Ash slipped the blunt between his lips and he lit it, taking a long, long drag before passing it to her. He exhaled slowly as they locked eyes for a moment. Smoke bellowed around them, coloring the air in an earthy smelling haze.

"I've never done this before." She admits shyly. That didn't phase Ash one bit, as a matter of fact it made him more excited. He passed the roll to her, sitting back and relaxing into the couch.

"Well go on hot lips, take a taste of that bad boy." He urged. This wasn't peer pressure, the air around them was light hearted and safe. Gilly noticed his aura didn't waver which meant he was being genuine, so she placed the blunt between her lips and took a nice long inhale. Turns out that was way too much because Gilly instantly gagged and started coughing, hard.

"Oh shit....don't suppress the coughs that only makes it worse." He says with a light hearted smile. His flesh hand patted her back. "You suck at this." He finished with a small chuckle.

"I do not." She tried to respond between coughing fits, flipping Ash the bird as it all began to slowly subside.

"Uh yeah, you kinda do...Pablo took a better hit his first time....you though, blew it like a birthday cand- Ow!" Ash's words fell short because Gilly decked him on the arm which much to Ash's surprise, kinda of fucking hurt.

"Fuck right off old man." She growled and after another bout of coughing. She felt Ash's hand on her back again as he began rubbing soothing circles in an attempt to help her stop coughing. Gilly looked up at him, her face was beat red and there were tears in her eyes from the coughing. Unfortunately, to her disdain Ash was *right there*, again arms reach or closer. She watched as he brought the joint to his mouth and he sucked on the end, blowing smoke out through his nose as he smiled confidently.

"Honey I may be old, but I still got it." He states, his voice going a bit soft as his hand moves up her back to play with her hair. "I mean, I got you here didn't I?" She couldn't help but flush at the realization that she was literally in his arms, just a breath away from being able to kiss him. Gilly looked down suddenly, her movements felt sluggish and she took a deep breathe. Looks like the reafer was kicking in. She honestly couldn't deny that all this time he had gotten Gilly alone with him without her even caring one bit that they were.

"Trying to romance me?" She asks with a soft giggle, wiping the tears from her eyes Ash meets her giggle with a warm laugh of hid own the way he was acting was different, she had never seen this side of Ash before.

"Is it working?" He asks lifting her delicate chin. Gilly blinked slowly as she gazed up at Ash, her hand tenderly traveling up his chest to the nape of his neck. His brown, doe eyes gazed at her with a tenderness she had never really experienced before. Was she really going to give him the time of day? Gilly thought about it for a minute as she looked the man before her, over.

"Maybe..."she laughs softly. His thumb grazed her cheek, Gilly's skin was so soft, almost pristine and the pad of his thumb was rough. She closed her eyes for a moment because she felt goosebumps form on her skin at the friction. Ash by all means was not boyfriend material, he was insensitive, crude and honestly, dumb. But here she was, feeling her cheeks burn and her heart pound like she was being noticed by a crush or something.

*what do I have to lose? My dignity?* she thought. Being a witch and some of the shit she has done, Gilly lost that a while ago. What could go wrong with just a kiss?

When Gilly opened her eyes, her heart was in her throat as Gilly felt his hand tangle in her hair. Her breath hitched a little bit her eyes fell shut again and she felt the gentle pressure of his lips. It happened, almost in slow motion. His lips were soft, Ash's touch was even more tender than anticipated. She was half expecting him to be a pig about it, hands groping areas they shouldn't, or lewd one liners she'd heard him say before to countless other women. But there wasn't any of that.

To be honest, kissing him was rather pleasant. Gilly lays back against the couch and Ash pressed in a bit further as he brought his metal hand up to cup her other cheek. Gilly's fingers combed through the nape of his dark hair as she tilts her head to allow Ash access to her mouth. Her lips part letting his tongue slip in to dance with and caress her own.

They made out, slowly, drinking each other in as Ash tenderly tilts her head back moving his mouth down towards her chin. The witch half expected him to press on but Ash didn't. He pulls back just enough, to lick his lips with that stupid shit eating grin on his face.

"Like sugar.." he mutters softly, his dark eyes going from her lips to her blue eyes. "I've been waiting for that for a hot minute Gils."

Gilly couldn't help the smile that forms across her face. She didn't need to see his aura to know he wasn't just saying that.

Two hours later Gilly found herself with her head resting on Ash's lap as his flesh hand absent mindedly combed through her soft blond hair. In those two hours they had smoked two and half joints and the trailer was filled with an earthy smelling haze.

They made out several times, sampling each other from time to time. They were to high for it to go any further. Which was perfectly fine for Gilly, because she wasnt that easy. Ash wanted to finish the other half of the last joint but when their bodies became so heavy that Ash had to take his mechanical hand off, just to lift his right arm, he decided Gilly had the right idea. Gilly's eyes were shut but she was still awake. The world was spinning like a marry-go round and she really didn't want to throw up in Ash's lap.

"Can I sleep here?" Gilly asked softly, feeling her mind being pulled into the loving arms of sleep. She couldn't rightfully recall what Ash responded with, but she remembered hearing his voice, low and soothing mutter something.

"You can have whatever you want baby."

---------------

It was the weekend and Gilly found herself sitting at a restaurant per Ash's very cryptic instructions. She was in a corner booth of one of the only eateries in town which, for what it was worth, was the best Elk Grove could offer. Franco's was the name of the establishment and the best included a moose or elk head hanging over each booth and a set of small, adorable antler decorations that surrounded some string LEDs in a mason jar.

Honestly, with the dark green paint job and the black sleek boothes, it was cozy in here. She smiled as she was brought something to munch on as she waited for her date to arrive. That was so weird, calling Ash a date, it was just weird considering the stories she had heard around town. Certain stories involving the local female population and Ash getting to know almost everyone of them personally.

*When Gilly went to the local grocery a couple weeks ago with Ash to get essentials, a beady eyed old blond woman pulled her aside whispered to her hushedly,"You should watch yourself around him honey..." Gilly looked at her questioningly, looking to Ash who was currently at the pharmacy picking something up for a sick Pablo.

"What do you mean?" She asked. If the blondes eyes could get any beadier, they would have. The woman gazed at Gilly scrutinizingly.

"He's a hitter and a quiter...." Blondie says out right. "Ashley doesn't do commitment....and the boy is dumber than a July Tuesday is long." The woman reached into her purse and pulled out a 50$ bill. "I'll pay you to go somewhere else so he doesn't hurt you too." Gilly who was taken back by all this abruptly declined and moved away from her. She stood next to Ash in line, who without thinking placed a hand on the small of her back. When the little witch looked up into those brown eyes of his, she forgot the beady eyed woman even existed*

The woman's words hung in her ears but judging by Ash's behavior, he was doing an awful lot of work just for one night of fun. Usually all she had to do was offer a guy a beer and sparks flew. As she gazed casually at her phone Gilly looked up just in time to see Ash standing at the hostess podium. He looked really nice dressed the way he did. A smile formed on her lovely face as they catch eyes. He wasn't wearing his usual get up, instead he wore a black long sleeved button up and dark denim jeans. The outfit did wonders for him.

The way he looked at her made her breath catch. There was that look in Ash's eyes again and it bothered her that she couldn't identify it. Gilly decides to rest her chin in her palm with a smile as he approached the booth she was nestled in.

"You look drop dead gorgeous." Ash exclaims with an appreciative smile. His eyes take in every last bit of Gilly he could see. She wore a sundress and her hair was up in a rather messy but nice, bun. It took to long to put up, in her opinion. He leans down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, before lifting her chin and kissing Gilly's soft pink lips. "You're always gorgeous." he whispers softly, kissing her cheek before sliding into the seat across from her.

Gilly reached across the table and took his hand. His aura was bouncing all over the place. The typical scarlet had a green outline to it, signaling that her handsome date was *actually* nervous.

"Black is a wonderful color on you." Gilly says trying to ease his nervousness. When Ash smiles more, that cocky, confidence showing itself, the witch felt her heart stop a bit.

"I think I can make anything look good." Ash boasts, turning his palm up, under her hand to trace the underside of her fingers. "Is it doing it for you?" He asks with a debonair smile. Gilly rolls her eyes with a giggle.

"What if I said no?" She teased

Tbc

#ash vs evil dead #ash williams #canon x selfship #writing #selfshipper

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