AU where Tommy and Buck met in Peru. Tommy is on a vacation and he sees a cute bartender at the beach, so he gathers up the courage to talk to him.
VIAAAA I love thiiiis so much! I love alternate first meetings, and Peru!Buck is so endearing! There we go:
1 - Tommy decides to take a vacation after breaking up with Abby. He's accumulated enough PTO over the years that he can be gone for almost a month, and he needs space to be himself somewhere he's completely unknown - he's still not brave enough to come out in LA, he's working up to it. Peru is a whim - he closes his eyes and points blindly on a map. Thank goodness his Spanish is not too bad.
2 - At this point Buck's been working at the resort for six months. He flirts as easily as he breathes, which means he usually gets awesome tips. and he's always so charming, but then this guy. Buck is an ally, but oh wow, he needs this guy's work-out routine. He's shaped like a Greek god, chiseled chin, dark blue eyes and a scrunchy smile that for some unkown reason makes Buck's heart skip a beat.
3 - Tommy's main reason for traveling was to go to parties and kiss guys and finally feel comfortable in his own sexuality (maybe a hook-up if he's lucky). But ever since he arrived at the resort, he prefers to stay at the bar and talk to the barman who's super cute despite the hideous highlights in his hair.
4 - Their first kiss is on a day where Tommy stays on the bar until it closes, and then he offers to walk Evan to the staff quarters. Buck's talking his ear off because Tommy told him he's a firefighter and Buck finds that really cool and wants to know more. And when they get to Buck's room, he gives Tommy a shy smile and a 'Hmm, sorry. I tend to ramble.' and Tommy can't have Buck thinking he's mad or upset about his rambling, so. He kisses him. And Buck has his '...oh.' moment about his sexuality and kisses back very enthusiastically.
5 - When Tommy's vacation ends, he hasn't kissed as many guys as he thought he would. But he comes back to LA with a boyfriend ♥️
(gooood now I want to expand this into a whole fic where Buck goes through the Academy with Tommy acting as his guide, and where Tommy comes out before leaving the 118, and maybe he doesn't feel the need to leave so soon, and the two of them work together!!!)
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Via, my love, I hope you enjoy this!!! I certainly enjoyed writing it for you ❤️
(send me an au idea and I'll tell you 5 facts about it)
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Mulder was already an FBI agent (and searching for Samantha) before he believed that it was aliens that took her, right? If I recall correctly? Because he stumbled upon the x files and then underwent the regression hypnotherapy… I think… if that’s true I think it’s underemphasized that Mulder pursued a degree in psychology and was working in profiling/Violent Crimes trying to prevent what he went through from happening to someone else before he really ever had any leads on what happened to his sister.
The Man Who Searched for His Sister: Mythology and Motives
You hit the nail on the head to me.
From the Golden Boy of the FBI (revered, respected, and honored) to Spooky in the basement (a testament of "ego" and "self-destruction" to the mainstream), the fall from grace for Mulder had to have been a tough pill to swallow. As abrasive as he can be, he's also warm and fond and empathetic: more willing to make friends (Jerry Lamana, Reggie Perdue, Diana Fowley, TLG) than go it utterly alone. But after discovering the files in 1988 and finally reopening them in 1991, he begins to (rightfully) suspect interference; and, in the face of derision and rejection, withdraws. "You were sent to spy on me," he deduces of Scully in the Pilot; and he's not wrong about the intent of her assignment, though he misjudges her motives along with it. More accurately: he offsets his interest in her work and mind by testing her upfront, unwilling to tie his loyalty to a wolf who intends to chew up the files and spit them out.
(As a side note: the story behind his and Scully's career path is so well done. Traumas in their childhood pushed Mulder and Scully to discover the truth for themselves-- be it in Oxford psychology or medical school morgues or FBI recruitment and field work-- and shaped their lives: both wanted answers to unanswered questions, hoping it would alleviate their personal struggles. Mulder's "You can deny all the things I've seen, all the things I've discovered. But not for much longer. Because too many people know what's happening out there and no one, no government agency, has jurisdiction over the truth" and Scully's "Nothing happens in contradiction to nature, only in contradiction to what we know of it. And that's a place to start. That's where the hope is" exemplify this. Their goals were fixed, their longing and struggles years in the making, before they'd begun navigating towards each other; but with each other they found their personal truths, and in each other they found "the" Truth.)
Samantha marked Mulder's life deeply and irrevocably when she vanished. His family fell apart; his life fell apart. And perhaps-- like many other lost souls-- he fastened onto psychology to understand what happened. And in seeking and becoming a source of help, he then latched onto the elusive "truth" as the ultimate solution-- a vision, as The X-Files would call it (his memories always did come back to him in visions)-- and became a crusader, willing to spend a lonely lifetime in the basement, on the road, on a cloistered couch while life on this planet passed him by.
Another thought: was Mulder's peg leg desire-- "If you have a peg leg or hooks for hands, you know, maybe it’s enough to simply carry on living. You know, bravely facing life with your disability. It's heroic just to survive. But without these things you're actually expected to make something of your life — achieve something, earn a raise, wear a necktie. So — so — so, if anything I'm actually the antithesis of Ahab, because if I did have a peg leg I'd quite possibly be more happy and more content and not feel the need to chase after these creatures of the unknown"-- formed before or after Samantha's disappearance? I'd say before: that it was part of his nature, like Scully's, to prove his pain to himself-- he externally, she internally. He lost his sister, she killed her rabbit; both were haunted by invisible scars that drove them ever onward. But while he could stop, finally, if he had a wound to point to (even die if his death had meaning), Scully couldn't (and avoided, and feared, a final end): legacy, she found in the morgue, is forged in life "on this planet", not in box scores or down endless roads or in running back to the past. "I've got things to prove-- but for my own reasons" and "If I quit now, they win" and "Mulder, get up. Get up and fight."
Another 'nother thought: CSM often put Mulder up on a cross, projecting his own "martyrdom" onto the other man-- a sinner purifying himself by piercing his sins into the flesh of the Lamb of God and slitting his throat. An allegory wholly unfitting to his megalomaniacal narrative: he sees himself as "God" (says so directly, post here) while failing to recognize that his motives are entirely selfish; and that his sacrificial son is hardly righteous or perfect-- that, in fact, his Christ-like figure isn't out to save the world. Mulder's fathers (canonically, both of them) pinned their agenda onto him when that was neither his goal nor his ideal from the start-- the world, "life on this planet" as a rule was furthest from his thoughts. His was a personally rewarding quest, with "selfish", not "altruistic", motives-- he wanted to find the Truth, and expose it; to search out mysteries with a baseball and sandwiches and a house like Home and his sister and his partner. And that simplicity of perspective gave him true insight, able to see through the net of lies Bill Mulder and the Consortium and Jeffrey Spender and Krycek and Marita and Skinner (and even Scully, at times) were caught in.
I literally read through every chapter you’ve posted in 2 days! I love love love it !!!! Can’t wait to see more <333
aaaah! thank you so much!!! as a treat, enjoy some Ollie and Birdy bonding!
......
"Okay, Kid, Dinah said you're almost street ready, which is great, but before we set you free on the city we need to make sure you're able to get around," Oliver stood tall beside you as he led you through the now abandoned (and slightly decrepit) Queen Manor.
"If this is about the maps, D said I aced her ‘I'm lost, Birdy, where are we?’ tests," you shoot back with narrowed eyes.
"Yes, we're very proud that you can mentally navigate, I meant physically traversing," he clarifies, waving his hand around.
"Are you gonna teach me how to drive?" your eyes had blown wide in excitement.
"Absolutely not," he negates, smiling at the way your expression dropped into a pout.
“We will be waiting at least until you’re 14 for that,” Oliver adds on.
“That’s not fair, how am I supposed to get around if I can’t drive,” you counter.
“A normal person waits til sixteen,” he shoots back, and you shut your mouth for the moment being. “now, as I was saying, traversing, as in grappling,” he clarifies.
“grappling?” you repeat.
“Yep!” and he leads you up the stairs.
He finally stops in the attic and stands next to a broken window, looking out you see a gymnastics net has been set up on the ground below you, the same used in trapeese acts.
"That's a long way down," you note cautiously.
"It is," he nods. "How far do you think?" he asks with a quirked brow.
"Well we're about four stories up, a story on average is about fourteen feet, so we're about, what? fifty-six feet up?" you estimate, taking a second as you go to do the math.
"sixty-five, but your math process is spot on," he nods.
"sixty-five feet," you repeat, looking out at the ground, which seems to spin a bit the longer you look down.
"And this is the short end, when you're out there, you're grappling from, around, and between sky scrapers," he adds on.
"oh," you say softly, rolling the tip of your shoe against the floor. It's a bit of a tick, Oliver's noticed, not directly obvious which works in your favor, but something he's going to have to talk with Dinah about for sure.
He sighs and takes a knee to be closer to your eye level. You're still so young, so small, barely nine years old, "look, kiddo, today... today and for this training I can't be your friend, Ollie, okay? I have to be a little harsher. Grappling is an important skill, but it's also dangerous and Dinah and I need to make sure you're ready to move through the city like this, that you're trained properly for it," he explains, a hand on your shoulder.
"okay," you nod, voice soft.
"Okay," he repeats back, standing back up and leading you a table, there's a bow, and a grapple gun. "Here's how the next few weeks are going to go. First we're going to learn with the gun, make sure you're able to hold it, that you understand how it works. we are going to take this thing apart and put it back together until you can do it in 30 seconds or less. then, we're going to work on shooting, on testing what's a solid grapple point, and once we're confident in our choices we're going to work on actually using it, swinging around and stuff."
"Is that why there's a gymnast's net outside?"
"uh, yeah, about that..."
your brows furrow down, and if he weren't so anxious about what he had to share with you, he'd probably be cooing at the expression of distrust, "what?"
"Dinah thinks it's important to learn how to... fall," he says slowly.
"fall?"
"fall," he repeats, nodding and looking out.
you pause for a second and he can see the gears turning and sees when you put it together.
"you want me to practice.. falling," you say again.
"yes."
"as in, i will be falling down onto that net, from up here?" you ask.
"yes."
"This was Dinah's plan?" you squeak; the look of betrayal on your face forces him to choke down a laugh; your eyes are so expressive, and sometimes he is just stuck in awe of you.
"yes," he nods again; he’s not going to tell you that they both did this; he rather likes being the good cop.
"I do not like this," you decide.
"yes, we didn't think you would," ollie admits. "I am however, incredibly proud of you for saying so," he smirks.
"you would be proud, stupid pysch based child rearing," you scoff.
"Have you been peaking though Dinah's books again?" he asks, lips quirked in a knowing smirk.
you roll your eyes, "maybe."
"our smart girl," he smiles.
"So... when does the falling come in the schedule?"
"With the shooting," he admits.
"Not today?"
"No, not today," he reassures you.
"What if.. what if I want to try today?" you ask, he notes that your shoe is rolling again.
"kiddo you don't have to-"
"I want to, I want to know what I'm getting myself into," you tell him, tone resolute, and that's a pretty fair request.
"Okay, after we work on assembly and disassembly, at the end, you can try take a dive," he nods, and he can see you nodding back at him, trying to hype yourself up. "I'll do it with you," he adds, and your shoulders seem to lose some of the tension they were holding as you nod back.
...
wc: 921
synopsis: ollie introduces birdy to grappling
main masterlist
codename: nightingale series masterpost
...
everything tags: @butterfly-skinnylegend
dc taglist: @grey-water-colors @batarella @loninctzencarat @escapenightmare
Considering the complete Prime history and their abuse of the Primal Voice, using it only to make your SIC take a freaking nap is about as tame as you're gonna get.
A DeanCas Halloween-Adjacent Fic (Canonverse, Witch!Cas, Hunter!Dean, 13.7K)
Dean’s coming off a vamp nest in Boise when he gets the call on his Other Other Cell; though he normally wouldn’t bother answering until his next pit stop—he’s sore and tired and covered in vamp guts—Dean’s still riding the all time low of his drunk-dial with Sam yesterday, and Dad is supposed to call any day now. So, steadying Baby’s steering wheel with his knees, he contorts himself to reach into the glove compartment with minor swerving.
“Hello?”
It’s not Dad.
Whatever, John’ll call later. He said he would, so he will. He has to. In the mean time, Dean turns towards Cannon Beach, Oregon, where, apparently, two people have been exsanguinated.
Rubbing at a spot of dried, flaking vamp blood on his neck, Dean throws his phone onto Baby’s bench seat with a growl. He puts on the nearest tape and turns the volume up as he guns it onto the I-84 West.
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The first and, eventually, the last. From Primus came all that has a spark or stable form. His chosen children are the Cybertronians, those recorded in this book. Every iron spark, every quartz spark, every diamond spark. We're all from him.
He doesn't deserve any of this. Under that cold, sad stare is someone who only wanted a family. Such a simple, terrible thing to go to war for.
Secrets, Lies, and Other Stuff:
Bound to physicality by the bones of a dead girl in his hands, Primus came into life being used. First to ensure this new, blooming universe was under control and then to provide servants to an existence cut off from the multiverse. And, as his sibling grew, he became a bargaining chip.
In the end, Unicron became something he feared and his Father became someone he hated. Once his Mother was killed, Primus had only his children. Everything was for them. It's easy to just... focus on that. Save them, even if you won't make it.
Design Notes:
Paints self due to his natural plating reminding him too much of his brother. The reasons for that fear should be clear: his shoulder and neck are cracked and damaged, despite his usually impossible healing capabilities. They hurt every second of the day.
As the only Cybertronian who can cry, being technically an Antillian, he has literal tear tracks (as opposed to the mostly symbolic tear tracks of his children). They're charred from his blood, Ambrosia, scorching them most of the day.
Legs are new. Prior to the Q-War, he had nothing below his skirt. Epistemus added them to give him more balance.
[Image Text ID: Religion is nothing more than a forced moral code made by higher castes. Pardon me if I see no point in trying to appeal to some theoretical almighty that is content in the subjugation of the vast majority. If Primus were to exist, and made himself known in some likely obnoxious show of power, there would be little keeping me from testing whether or not immortality also truly exists.]
