RvB Platonic Week

Summary: Oh no, he’s not going to cry again, is he? There’s nowhere to escape on this ship, but Locus’s eyes dart around to search for some place to hide anyway. 

Notes: Missing scene between “Objects in Space” and “Grif Does a Rescue. Hurt/Comfort prompt for @rvbplatonicweek.

Also on Ao3

“I know they’re not my friends,” Grif says, looking lost amongst the volleyballs he insisted on strapping in like passengers, with extra care for the ones painted maroon and dark blue.

Locus barely keeps himself from hitting his helmet against the console. “I should hope so,” he says instead, hoping this won’t invite further conversation.

Summary: The problem with taking in a murderous ex-Freelancer is that. Well. Then you have a murderous ex-Freelancer.

Leading your team.

Parings: None. Warnings: Canon-typical language, ridiculous fluff.

Notes: Also available on AO3!

Written for Day 4 of @rvbplatonicweek: “Hugs/Cuddling.”

This fic was inspired by a conversation with @zalia and @comefeedtherainn, so thanks to them for letting me use their ideas. <3 Also, thanks to @a-taller-tale for the beta.

The problem with taking in a murderous ex-Freelancer is that. Well. Then you have a murderous ex-Freelancer.

Leading your team.

Tucker is so fucking dead.

He thinks that often, during the first few days after Sidewinder: I am so fucking dead.

It had seemed like a pretty good idea, fresh off the high of defeating the Meta. Wash had helped them out, so they kinda owed him. Caboose wouldn’t stop whining about wanting to keep him. Two for one.

Then they make it to an abandoned simulation base, and Tucker is so tired he doesn’t care about anything, just walks straight to the nearest bunk in Blue Base, shedding pieces of armor as he goes. Flops down. Lights out.

He dreams about Church.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Red vs. Blue Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Agent York & Agent Washington, Agent Washington/Agent Maine (referenced) Characters: Agent York, Agent Washington (Red vs. Blue) Additional Tags: Project Freelancer, Asexual Agent Washington, Aromantic Agent York, Aromantic, Asexual Character, Canon-typical language, Injury, RvB Platonic Week Summary:

Late the night after the Sarcophagus Mission, York receives an unexpected visitor.

Written for RvB Platonic Week, Day 3 Hurt/Comfort & Day 5 Hugs/Cuddles.

Carolina is the last of the Churches.

A poem for @rvbplatonicweek‘s Family Day. References canonical character deaths.

So it’s down to me.

We’ve never done memorials, us Churches. My mother’s plasma vapor, scattered to space, or rained back down. We had nothing, not even a stone, nothing to mark her dissolution but our slow collapse in its wake. And my father, even in life shrouded himself in stony silence and closed doors, and in the end entombed himself.

And you– like the ones before, you went out prismed, nine beams of light. Nine names you could not forget. You were made of what he did to you– but you were more than him, too, and you went out bright.

I can rest on that, at least– if I can rest.

Figured I’d go like her, if we’re being honest. Didn’t we all? With the circle tightening every day, in glass and glass and glass we saw our faces mirrored in the dead. We fought, but we were all waiting for the end

and I’m still here. I don’t know how to feel. Don’t know what it means to be older than my mother, to have survived one war, and then another. Some days I feel like a ghost. Some days

my head gets echoey without you. I don’t miss their voices. I know how much of them were lies. I know what gone means now, when I close my eyes,

“Oh wow I just LOVE what you’ve don with the place Donald!” Dr. Grey chirped entering the newly cleaned office. “Oops sorry! Not Donald anymore.” She giggled. “General Doyle.” She rasped out in an attempt to mimic a drill sergeant, all the while missing the mans overall discomfort at the title.

“yes well um I suppose it will takes us all some…getting us to….I suppose.” The man formerly known as secretary Doyle replied unsure of everything. It was only last week that his commander was alive and kicking and this place filled to the brim with loose documents he refused to organize. And now he was dead, leaving Doyle little choice but to try and scavenge some information form what was left behind. 

“You know Donald the more I say it the more it kinda rolls off the tongue General Doyle, General Doyle, GENerAL DoYLeeeeee.” She began to sing and sometimes Doyle wondered just how much of this eccentricity was a coping mechanism. Emily hadn’t always ben this way, at least not when they first met. 

“Emily I just realized this but as of now you are the oldest friend I have.” This epiphany truly only hitting him now. “It was um when General Conrad had to have his hand amputated due to infection, right?” That was the first general he had served under, but not the last. 

“Actually it was due to severe fifth degree burns from using an improperly calibrated weapon.” She corrected him in such a matter of fact way you’d think she was talking about something mundane. Though to her it was. “General Roberts was the one who had her leg amputated due to infection.” 

“Do you remember everyone you treat?” 

“Yep. One of the drawbacks to having a photographic memory I suppose.”

“Do you remember what it was like before?”

“Before what?”

“Before…before this got so…..mucked up.”

There was a moment of silence as she stood there the doctor staring at her new and terrified General. “A little yes…” Her voice oddly serene. 

“Yes me as well, it gets a little foggier with each day though.” He confessed clutching his armored hands tightly on the desk. “Sometimes I fear things will never be that way again….” 

“Donald…..” 

“But we mustn’t let such thoughts bog us down, right?” A small bit of confidence brimming under the cowardly Generals voice. “Keep calm and carry on as they say.” 

“Statistically speaking sir, the war can’t go on forever.” She replied giving his salute that with her voice and quick movements might have seemed a joke from anyone else, but from her entirely earnest. 

“Haha yes um thank for the council Emil….um sorry Doctor Grey.”

The hospital was finally completed and for the first time in years the Doctor standing outside the freshly erected steps would have a proper place to conduct herself. But as excited new med students and seasoned doctors rushed passed her she stood there staring at a simple bronze plaque. 

“I was right sir, the war didn’t last forever.” She said softly, her armored hand gently brushing over the raised metal words. “It’s not quite back to how it was but close I just wish…..you could have seen the end.”

“Doctor Grey! Aren’t you suppose to give the opening speech inside?” Called a former subordinate of her on the battle field from inside.

“I”LL BE THERE!” She shouted rather childishly, thankful the helmet hid her tears. “Geez can’t do a thing without me huh? But hey I told you General Doyle had a great ring to it!” She laughed leaving the plaque that read, 

“This hospital in loving dedication to General Donald Doyle. Leader, Soldier, but most importantly Friend.”

This will probably make very little sense if you haven’t read that first, I’m afraid 😅 Not a plea for hits, just a heads-up

Emergency Drills

Characters: Samuel ‘Locus’ Ortez, Allan (OC), Edgar (OC)

Rating: Teen

Warnings: nightmares, mentions of death

–

Sam slumped on his bed and began the far too tedious task of unlacing his boots. Sow’s Ear had run an emergency drill earlier that day — a double header of fire and decompression. The children only had to worry about finding the nearest safe point. Sam, however, had decided to take part.

More accurately, Captain Grzelak had strongly suggested he might want to tag along. After all, she had reasoned, the more people who knew what to do in an emergency, the better.

More likely, she wanted to assess how he handled himself in a crisis, and if he would be a potential hazard. At least, that was what he’d managed to glean from the gossip.

She hadn’t confined him to quarters, so he supposed he passed muster. Even if he was exhausted.

“Wow never thought I’d say this but god you suck.” The pilot laughed making the short, but now slightly dangerous trek back to her seat. 

“Shut up I think I got it.” Confidence brimming in the competitive woman voice as she fumbled to level out the ship, never noticing 479er not sat beside her.

“Yeah cause I took the reins back.” She snarked, knowing all too well that she was being glared at under the teal helmet. “Don’t worry I won’t tell that you almost crash while I took a piss.” 

“I hardly almost crashed.” She huffed crossing her arms.

“So you can’t fly a ship big deal….you know it makes you seem more human.” The perfect solider Carolina, sometimes the pilot wonder if she really was a robot. 

“You don’t think I’m human?” Her voice almost sounded hurt by that. 

“Look don’t take it the wrong way, but nothing seems to stop you. Nothing too tough or dangerous you just power through and keep going. It’s amazing but…well makes us normal folks wonder….” Shit she’d upset her. Well this would be an awkward flight now. As though flying close to twenty four hours wasn’t hard enough.

“It’s not just flying I’m bad at….” She spoke up clearing the air.

“oh yeah?” 

“I can’t sing to save my life. My….dad, heh, he use to discreetly hid all my toy microphones.”  She laughed at the memory. 

“Aww didn’t have the heart to tell his little girl she’s tone deaf?” The pilot joined in the laughter. “Well now you and I gotta go to a Karaoke bar.” 

“Oh no no nononono.”

“Oh yes yesyesyesyes we are going. Don’t you fight me on this Carolina.”

“Not like you’d be able to win.” “Yeah but if you did kick my ass then you’d feel obligated, so I win either way.”

The two laughed and joked until they arrived at project freelancer. Carolina never was able to go out singing with the pilot but years later in a crumbling cave on an isolated planet maybe she did sing her heart out in memory of the old friend.

RvB Platonic Week

Day 1 - Oct. 15 - Opposite Sides