Lady Gray's Place

I will help you move your posts.

ladygray99 — Thu, 10 Mar 2022 06:23:03 GMT

Hello flist.
So, I know as far as global priorities go the possibility of lj going down is WAY at the bottom. But, a lot of us made dear friends and important connections here. We also wrote a shit ton of fic.

I know some of us have been meaning to slowly shift all our old work over to AO3 or some other platfor for YEARS now and just haven't gotten around to it.

So. I work from home and am my own boss these days I am willing to spend all of my Friday (thursday for most of my flist) moving fic for you, especially if you're in the numb3rs or some other small fandom that isn't stored anywhere else.

Make a burner password you can give me and let me indulge in the fact that I find cutting and pasting kinda meditative.

Three Hour Tour

ladygray99 — Wed, 12 Jan 2022 04:31:40 GMT

Title: Three Hour Tour
Author: ladygray99
Fandom: Star Trek: Lower Decks
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Beckett Mariner, Brad Boimler, Spock
Word count: 672
Summary: Beckett and Boimler are headed for their first shakedown cruise. But first they get a little advice.

“Oh my, god. Oh my, god. Oh my, god! This is it!” Boimler screeched under his breath.

“I know. Calm down.” Mariner said through gritted teeth though she wanted to skip and scream as well. All these years. Premotions, demotions, getting split up and thrown back together and here they were, Captain Mariner and her Number One about to take official command of the USS Fresno.

They came around a corner of space dock and froze.

“Oh my, god. Is that..?”

“Yes! Be cool,” Mariner snapped. Both stood up straighter and tried to think serious thoughts as they prepared to walk past the elder Vulcan in formal robes. They almost made it but Boimler cracked first.

“We drank at your bar once!” he blurted out before slapping his hands over his mouth. Spock turned and lifted an eyebrow.

Mariner tried to force a professional smile. “What my incredibly not chill first officer was trying to say was ages ago we just happened to be at Starbase 25 and happened to notice your name and Kirk’s carved into a bar top.”

“Attempting to enter the Command Conference After Party?”

Both Mariner and Boimler hung their heads under that all knowing Vulcan gaze. “Yes,” they mumbled in unison.

“Jim assured me he ‘knew the band’ and ‘the bouncer was cool’.”

“So not cool.”

“Majorly uncool.”

“After several drinks and an act of vandalism he assured me that we would command a ship together and I would be his first officer, which was a highly illogical statement as I was not command track and we had never served together.”

“And yet…” was all Mariner could think to say.

“And yet,” Spock repeated.

“We…um… We might have done the same thing. And here we are. Our first ship, just down the hall waiting for us.”

“Just the Fresno.” Boimler added. Having been born in Modesto he always looked down on the city of Fresno and some little part of his brain still felt weird about serving on a ship with that name.

“As long as you have a good crew the ship does not matter.”

Mariner stood taller than ever. “We have the best crew in the fleet. Some of us have been together since our lower deck days. We’ve got Rutherford down in engineering. T’lyn running science with an iron fist. Jennifer kicking ass in security. Tendi sort of floats around but that’s because she’s just good at everything and I’d be an idiot not to want her on my ship. But yeah, you could give them a two-hundred-year-old bird of prey and a couple of solar sails and I’d trust them to get me home.”

“We’re about to do our first shakedown run. Just easy three hours out and back.”

Spock’s face twitched. “May I offer a word of advice?”

“Yes!”

“Absolutely!”

“In my experience three hour shakedown cruises are seldom easy or three hours.” Spock raised his hand in salute. “Good luck.”

Mariner and Boimler quickly raised their hands in return. “Live long and prosper,” Mariner said, without irony or sarcasm for possibly the first time in her life.

“Dif-tor heh smusma.”

Mariner resisted rolling her eyes. Of course Boimler would know the greeting in Vulcan.

Spock nodded to them both and walked on. The two of them waited until he was down the hall and around the corner before grabbing each other and jumping up and down like a couple of little kids.

THREE HOURS LATER

“What is that?!” Boimler screamed.

“I don’t know!” Tendi screamed back from the science station.

“Did the Borg try to assimilate a Crystalline Entity?!” Mariner yelled.

“I don’t know!” Tendi screamed again.

“Rutherford, break every law of physics twice and get us the hell out of here!”

“You think I’m not trying!” Rutherford snapped back from engineering.

Mariner could hear the whine of the engines. “Good luck my ass. Find where that unholy mess joins up and fire everything we have on that spot on my mark.”

“Ready Captain,” Jennifer snarled behind her.

“And. Mark!”

This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/856741.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

The Ghost Before Christmas

ladygray99 — Wed, 12 Jan 2022 00:55:18 GMT

Title: The Ghost Before Christmas
Author: ladygray99
Fandom: The Real Ghostbusters
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Janine Melnitz, Egon Spengler, Winston Zeddemore, Peter Venkman, Slimer
Word count: 2695
Summary: Christmas is the busy season for ghostbusting and Janine has a ghost of her own, but it doesn’t need to be busted, instead it’s a mystery to be solved.
Notes: Yuletide for TheGhostOfInternetPast who wanted a Janine story.

Janine did not want to be working Christmas Eve. She wanted to be home in front of her space heater and TV, but as long as the guys were working, she was working. And boy were the guys working. She’d learned early that just like for emergency rooms Christmas was their busy season, and for most of the same reasons.

“I’m cold.”

Janine looked up from her desk. The guys were out on a call. A little girl was standing where Ecto-1 was usually parked. She looked eight, maybe nine. She was wearing black and white saddle shoes. Janine had a hand me down pair from her older sister at that age. The girl was also in thick white stockings and a tartan print dress. Her blue coat looked warm but not warm enough.

“I’m cold.”

Janine grabbed a blanket that had been sitting on her lap. It was draughty in the firehouse.

“It’s cold out.” She held out the blanket for the girl. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Wendy.”

“That’s a nice name? Where are your parents, Wendy?”

“I don’t know. They were on the train then they were gone.” Wendy grabbed the blanket then blinked out of existence.

Janine sighed.

~

“One of us will hang around next year and we’ll zap her.”

Janine gave Peter a shove. “Absolutely not. She’s a terrified little girl who lost her parents and probably froze to death on our front porch. I’m not letting you put her ghost in with literal demons. I know what we’ve got in the containment unit.”

“I’m not entirely sure she is a ghost.”

Janine had left a P.K.E. meter connected to a recording device running in her desk and Egon was looking over the results. “I think I’ve been around this place long enough to know a ghost when I see one.”

“These readings are strong but the actual wave patterns look closer to child manifest poltergeist activity.”

Janine didn’t believe Wendy was a poltergeist. She’d met those. Violent, nasty things. “At least I got a name.”

~

It was a year before Christmas but Janine didn’t get a lot of off time. She’d lived in New York her entire life and knew even in the 50’s (and she was sure Wendy was from the 50’s just from the outfit) there would be a lot of information to go through.

She rubbed her eyes then started as a hand gently touched her shoulder. She looked up expecting the librarian.

“Egon, what are you doing here?”

“Picking up some books on 9th century Japanese shamanism. What are you doing?”

She gestured at the microfilm reader. “New York City obituaries for the 1950’s.”

“And you think you’ll find your ghost?”

Janine shrugged a little. “She was well dressed, clean clothes, nice hair. Maybe not rich but had that post war American prosperity middle class look going. I’ve got a first name. She should be in here.”

“Then what?”

Janine had been asking herself the same question. “I don’t know. I just feel like if I can find the right words to say to her she’ll move on, go peacefully, instead of showing up every Christmas Eve telling me she’s cold.”

~

“I’m cold.”

A year, a solid year of finding out just how many kids died in New York in the month of December between 1950 and 1962 and she hadn’t found a Wendy that matched.

“I know, Wendy.” Janine held out the blanket. “Would you like some hot coco?” She picked up the cup of coco she had waiting on the desk betting that Wendy had probably not gotten the same stranger danger lectures kids were getting now.

Wendy took the blanket and sat down on the chair in front of Janine’s desk. She looked completely solid as she swung her legs. “Do you know where my parents are?” Her voice was still filled with fear.

“What are your parent’s names?” Janine asked with a smile.

“Jane and Richard Stevens.”

Janine tried not to sigh. Could there have been any two more common, white bread names. Still, that meant she was talking to Wendy Stevens. Another clue to follow. “Okay. Well, where do you live? I can try calling them right now. I’m sure they’re looking for you.”

“We live in Iowa.”

“Well then, where are you staying?”

“The Saint Francis. It’s so pretty. It’s all gold and the carpets are red. We got on the train. I can’t find them now. And I’m cold.”

Wendy blinked out and the mug of coco clattered to the floor.

~

“I’m still not entirely sure you’re dealing with a ghost,” Egon said looking at the new readings. He’d given her a set of fresh equipment to hide in her desk.

“Not a ghost,” Slimer blurted out, in between destroying trays of Christmas cookies.

“What do you mean?” Janine asked. “You weren’t even in the room.”

Slimer actually stopped and frowned. “Slimer hide and watch. Look like ghost. Act like ghost. Not Feeeeeeel like ghost.”

“Would you care to elaborate?” Egon asked.

Slimer just made an unintelligible screeching noise then went back to the cookies.

“Maybe the St. Francis is still around,” Janine muttered, mostly to herself.

~

The Hotel St. Francis was still around but it did not have guest records dating back to the 1950’s. It didn’t have red carpets either. What it did have were rooms that could be rented by the hour, a bellhop that sold crack, and a front desk manager that could arrange company for you, also by the hour.

Janine got on the subway only a block down from the hotel. “Wendy Stevens, daughter of Jane and Richard Stevens, where were you supposed to go?”

The subway was an ever-changing beast. Some parts were 80 years old while others just a few years. She laid copies of some old maps she’d gotten from the library across her lap as the train rattled on towards Tribeca. If it only took Wendy one stop to realize her parents were no longer on the train with her that would have had them getting off somewhere around Canal Street but from there they could have gotten another train or bus to just about anywhere in the city. And that’s not taking into account just how far Wendy might have wandered that cold Christmas Eve night.

It was going to be a very frustrating year.

~

“I’m cold.”

“I know, Wendy. Have some coco.”

Wendy didn’t question how Janine knew her name.

“I can’t find my parents,” she said sitting on the chair and swinging her legs, still looking as solid as any living child.

“I’m going to call the hotel where they’re staying. Are you having a vacation in New York?”

She shook her head. “We’re seeing my brother. He has 24 hours of shore leave.”

Janine cheered internally. In her heart she just knew this was going to be the key. “Really, what ship is he on?”

Wendy looked up. “He’s a Lieutenant Junior Grade on the USS Intrepid,” she recited carefully. “Dad says we should be very proud of him.”

The big front doors to the firehouse started to rattle open and Wendy blinked away once again, spilling the coco.

“Damn it!”

~

Janine drummed her nails on the table in the kitchen while Ray served up their Christmas dinner of Chinese takeout.

Winston passed her the lemon chicken. “You know I was in the army for a bit but I knew some navy guys. All the big ships do these things called cruise books. They’re like high school year books with everyone who was on the ship and where they went. You’ve got a last name, a rank, and a boat. If you can find the right Lieutenant Junior Grade Stevens-“

“I could maybe actually get in touch with him. Find out what happened.”

“Not a ghost,” Slimer yelled before diving at the fortune cookies.

~

Peter claimed the New York Public Library hated the Ghostbusters. In truth they just didn’t like Peter. They loved Egon who somehow managed to return books in better condition than he got them. They also got along perfectly well with Janine. She was going to have to send boxes of chocolates to the research librarians.

It turned out that cruise books were privately printed on orders of the captain of any given ship, and were distributed only to crew members who requested one. The chances of them showing up in a public library was slim. And yet, there she was, holding the cruse book for the USS Intrepid 1956 Mediterranean tour and in the long list of sailors she found a Lieutenant Junior Grade David Stevens.

It was April. That gave her eight months to find David Stevens and find out what happened to his little sister Wendy.

~

Janine slammed a trap into the containment unit with more force than necessary. Normally she made the guys clear their own traps but it was Halloween and that was their other busy season so it was all hands on deck. Just a few days earlier she had to strap on one of the spare proton packs and help clean out a nasty pair of poltergeists from an abandoned hospital. Normally she enjoyed those days but it meant she missed an appointment she’d managed to swing at the VA, still trying to get some sort of contact information for David Stevens.

Less than two months before having to face down Wendy Stevens again.

She trudged back up the stairs and flopped into her chair. The phone rang.

“Ghostbusters.” She didn’t bother trying to sound polite. She was exhausted and this was New York.

“Um, hello?” The line sounded bad and had the crackle of long distance. “I’m sorry, I’m looking for a Janine Melnitz?”

“Speaking.” She rolled her head and heard her neck crack a bit. She needed to get a new pillow or something.

“Um, my name is David Stevens and I was told you were looking for me?”

Janine almost leapt to her feet. “Yes! Are, were you a Lieutenant Junior Grade on the USS Intrepid?”

“Oh, a long time ago. I fix crop dusters now.”

“And, I’m sorry but this might be painful but I need to know, did you dock in New York on Christmas Eve in 1956?”

“Yes.” David sounded confused. “What’s this about?”

“I’m sorry but I need to ask you about your sister, Wendy, and what happened that Christmas.”

“Okay.” His response still one of confusion, not any of the grief she was expecting. “Well, I was meant to meet up with my folks, have a fancy New York dinner, but my sister ended up not getting off the train with my parents, got off at the next stop, ended up banging on the door of a firehouse but they were having a party or something. By the time they got her to the hospital she was half frozen, got pneumonia, it was a month before our parents were allowed to take her back to Iowa and honestly, I don’t think she’s left the state since. What exactly is this about?”

“Wait, your sister is alive?” The shock felt like an almost physical blow. If Wendy was alive who the hell had she been talking to every Christmas Eve for the last several years.

“Unless something happened between last Thursday and now, yes.”

“Is there any chance I could get her number?”

“Who are you working for again?”

“The Ghostbusters.”

~

There wasn’t a lot of money in ghostbusting. The guys charged what the market could handle and Janine knew they paid her as much as they could manage but the overhead on equipment, power, insurance, and everything else was considerable. Still, she made more than a middle-aged ballet teacher with three kids living in small town Iowa. She dug into her savings, and made the guys cough up a little as well, and flew Wendy Stevens and her family to New York for Christmas Eve.

“I’m still not entirely sure I understand. My ghost is going to appear?”

“Not your ghost. A psychic manifestation of your fear that has been locked in a time loop since that Christmas Eve,” Egon explained.

“And what am I supposed to do about it?”

“The guys will be upstairs,” Janine said firmly. Wendy had always vanished as soon as one of them showed up. “And I just want you to talk to her. I think, maybe if she realizes that she’s going to be okay, she’ll break out of the loop.”

“You want me to talk to my fear?”

“How scared were you that night?”

Wendy looked down at her hands. “Terrified. I’d been holding the edge of my father’s coat on the subway, watching the tunnel lights go by out the window. The train stop and the doors opened and I looked up and it wasn’t my father I was standing next to. Just some random man I didn’t even recognize. I think I might have screamed. I ran. I ran up the stairs and into the snow. Sweet Water Iowa had a population of 984 people. And there I was in the middle of New York, in my little tartan dress, and the wind was blowing, and I was so lost. And so cold. When I saw this fire station, I thought I was saved. I knocked on the door, over and over. I was so cold and so scared. I could hear music inside. I guess they couldn’t hear me knocking. I woke up in the hospital so sick. The doctors told me it was a miracle I was alive. That I was so hypothermic when I was found they couldn’t find a pulse or even a breath.”

“We might be looking at a form of ghost after all. If you came that close to death then-“

“Egon, you can science this later. Right now you all need to go.” Janine shooed the guys upstairs with one hand and set about making a cup of coco. She made one for the elder Wendy as well.

“I’m cold.”

Wendy gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth.

“I know sweetheart. Why don’t you come over here and have some hot coco?”

Wendy sat down and took the coco. “I can’t find my parents.” The fear was still thick in the little girl’s voice. Janine nudged the older Wendy.

“It’s okay,” her voice cracked. “I know where they are.”

“You do?”

“Yes. They are at a police station right now. And the police are going to call all the other police stations and the fire stations. Even this one. And then they’re going to meet you at the hospital.”

The little girl frowned. “Why the hospital?”

“They just want to make sure you’re not sick after being out in the cold. David will meet you there. And he’s going to bring you a beautiful china statue of a ballerina that he got in Monaco because he knows how much you love to dance. And your mom and dad will even leave a note for Santa so he knows where you are.” Wendy’s voice had become thick. “And next Christmas when David comes home, he’s going to ask Flora, who works at the soda shop, to marry him.”

The little girl gasped in delight. “He is?”

“Why do you think she’s always slipping you an extra scoop of ice cream? Trying to keep on your good side.”

“It’s going to be, okay?” For once there was true hope in the little girl’s voice.

Wendy clasped her hands around those of the spirit “I absolutely, one hundred percent, double pinkie swear promise, your mom and your dad are coming for you and you will be just fine.”

And with that, Wendy vanished. Not with the harsh blink of years past but with a flurry of fine lights, like snow falling in moonlight, vanishing before touching the ground.

“Is…” Wendy’s voice wobbled. “Is that it?”

“I think that’s it. I think you did it.”

“I just told her what I wish someone had told me when I was sitting out in that snow.”

“Well in that case it was absolutely perfect.”

This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/856481.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

No One’s Boy

ladygray99 — Wed, 12 Jan 2022 00:42:16 GMT

Title: No One’s Boy
Author: ladygray99
Fandom: Perry Mason (TV 2020)
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: Yuletide For delina. The request was for really dark fic. I'm not really experienced at writing dark dark but I gave it my best shot and figured a look at Perry and Lupe's messed up relationship was probably a good starting point.
Characters/Pairings: Lupe Gibbs/Perry Mason
Word count: 1553
Warnings/Spoilers: Rough Sex, Face Slapping, Drinking, Drunk Sex, This is not a healthy relationship, Hurt/Comfort, But more hurt than comfort,
Summary: Perry knows damn well she's not his girl. They drink and fight too much for that. But sometimes she makes coffee before he wakes up. And sometimes she hums softly and strokes his head when everything hurts. And some days that's enough to keep Perry going.

“Open up papi.”

Perry parted his lips, still split and swollen from the day’s beating and let the last of the alcohol slide its way down his throat. The rough label on the bottle said whiskey but it was more likely corn moonshine with swamp water that would leave him half blind. He felt the press of glass on his lips and spread them wider. Lupe chuckled and ground herself down on him as she pressed the neck of the empty bottle past his lips clinking it against his teeth.

“Look at you suck on that. Maybe I should just roll you over and shove it up your ass instead.”

Perry grunted. Through the pain and drunken haze, he half wondered if she knew about the blue ticket. Jesus only knew just how much of his time spent with her he was slobbering drunk and willing to say anything. Not that they ever actually caught him with a queer. It was just easier to throw him out on a rumour than to court marshal him for what he’d actually done. That would have given him a chance to give evidence. The orders were bad, the masks didn’t fit right and didn’t work. The brass had never been to the front lines. They’d never seen a man coughing up his lungs while holding his guts in with his own hands. They didn’t know.

The slap jolted him out of the cold, mud filled trench that would forever exist in his mind and back into his bed.

“Hey, pay attention when you’re in me.”

He smiled around the neck of the bottle. She’d been kind enough to slap the cheek that wasn’t already black and blue. She pulled out the bottle and let it drop to the floor. He grabbed her hips and thrust up as best as he could. He knew she didn’t actually give a shit about his enthusiasm. She’d tie a pencil to his dick and just ride him until she was happy. He understood that. A warm body willing to give you ten minutes in the dark to forget mud and blood and cold, or whatever ghosts Lupe had in her own head.

She slapped him again, this time on the bruised cheek. He kicked up his legs and flipped her over. She let him. She had a swing like a whore house bouncer. Years of fighting gravity meant she could break him in half and they both knew it. She pulled her punches with him. Most of the time at least.

“You fuck me like a little bitch.” She was trying to goad him into fucking her harder and faster. He was pretty sure his pinkie was broken. Just a crack but it was hard to tell through the haze of cheap booze. He pulled himself together just enough to get to his knees and fling her ankles over his shoulders so he wouldn’t have to lean on his bruised hands.

“That’s better,” she hissed as he ground in deep. “Think you can get the job done now?”

Of course, he could. He always could. That’s what he did, he got the job done.

~

The heat of steam on his nose and the smell of coffee woke him up. He didn’t open his eyes though. He knew better. He did an inventory first. Cheek still bruised. Slight throb in his pinkie so probably broken but nothing some sticks and tape wouldn’t fix. He’d taken a couple of good kicks the day before but he was pretty sure his ribs weren’t broken, for once. Head, hungover. Dick, fucked.

“Wakey, wakey papi.”

Perry cracked one eye open to Pete’s grinning face then closed it again.

“Fuck off.”

“Your girl made coffee before she left.” He heard the coffee cup set down on the small bedside table.

“She’s not my girl,” Perry groaned trying to roll over while keeping his head attached. “She’d take off your balls if she heard you call her that.”

The sound of Lupe’s plane roaring to life did nothing for his headache and he actually pressed his hands to his ears.

“Then what is she?”

“My neighbor who keeps threatening to buy my house and tear it down so she can have a second runway.”

“She also gets you drunk and fucks you.”

Perry blindly reached for his coffee which Pete was kind enough to slide towards his hand. “Doesn’t make her my girl.”

“Maybe you’re her boy. You certainly smell like it.”

Perry was not about to say that was probably close to the truth of the fucked-up relationship he had with Lupe. He screamed at her, she slapped him around, they fucked. Sometimes she made him coffee before she took to the skies. He guessed it was better than nothing. He sipped his coffee.

“Get your sorry ass up, wash your dick, E.B. has work for us.”

“Fine, but I need you to splint my finger.”

~

Perry sipped the watery diner coffee. Lupe’s was better. Even when it was just down to day old grounds and chicory, her coffee was better. One time, not long after they had started fucking she had made him something cooking down flour with sugar and coffee until it was a hot paste. He’d had a cold and a raw throat. She’d spooned it into him while humming softly. A rare act of gentleness.

“Are we sure that’s the guy?” Pete asked.

Perry looked over the top of his coffee as Pete peered around his newspaper. A large man a few booths over was talking softly to a woman with tightly coiled hair and enough makeup to make her look younger than she actually was, at least according to the information they’d been given.

“We could just go up and ask him. Actually, we need to go up and ask him so why don’t you just do it?”

“How about you do it?”

“No,” Perry objected. “Every single time we serve papers I get punched.”

“Not every time.”

“Every. Time. I’m still getting over yesterday’s beating.”

“You’re just being a little bitch, you know that right?”

Perry put down his coffee. “I’ll flip you for it.”

Pete sighed, put down his paper and pulled a dime from his pocket. “Little. Bitch.”

“Heads,” Perry snapped out while the dime spun in the air.

Pete snatched it from its spin, took a peek and swore. He got up and approached the man at the other booth. “Thomas Eugen Peterson?”

“Who wants to know?”

“That means yes. Thomas Eugen Peterson, you’ve been served.” Pete handed over the envelope.

“What the fuck does that mean?” At this point the whole diner was looking.

“Your wife is suing you for –” Pete didn’t even get out the reason.

“Your married!” the woman at the booth shrieked.

“Baby it’s not like—” She picked up a glass of water and threw it in his face. Perry mused that she must love him a little since she didn’t grab the steaming coffee to throw.

Thomas Eugen Peterson roared up and turned to Pete who quickly began to back away towards Perry. “Hey man, I’m just doing my job.”

Peterson swung and Pete ducked. Every time they served papers Perry got punched. Every single time. And this time the guy had to be a southpaw.

~

Perry laid on his bed a cool cloth on each cheek, and one across his eyes, since they now sported matching bruises only a day apart. he was amazed he still had all his teeth. He heard a knock and his door creaked open. He hadn’t locked it. He couldn’t be made to care if someone walked in and killed him right now. He just hurt too fucking much.

He heard steps approach his bedroom and someone sat on the edge of his bed. He half expected to feel the muzzle of a gun pressed to his forehead. God only knew how many people he’d pissed off enough to shoot him.

The cloth was slowly removed from his eyes and he blinked up at Lupe. “I can’t fuck you tonight. I think I have a broken rib.”

“Pobrecito. Sit up.”

Perry groaned and sat up. Lupe shifted up the bed and manhandled him around until his head was resting against her soft chest. She smelled like diesel and casino cigars. She pulled a cork from a bottle and he could instantly tell it was far better than whatever they had drunk the night before. She put the bottle to his lips and he took a small sip.

“Pete says I’m your boy.”

She gently raked her fingers through his hair. In the distance he could hear the sound of her ground crew laughing while someone strummed one of the fat bellied Mexican guitars he’d seen.

“You’re nobody’s boy. You’re too proud for that.”

Perry didn’t say anything. She was probably right. She was probably right about a lot of shit that was going to come back and bite him in the ass eventually. His pride, his farm, all of it.

She hummed softly in counterpoint to the distant music. His hand throbbed, his face hurt, his ribs protested with every breath, but maybe if she gave him a little more of that booze and stroked his head, he just might manage to get some sleep.

This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/856217.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

2020 v2.0 kindly fuck off

ladygray99 — Sun, 02 Jan 2022 01:18:28 GMT

And let 2022 be a better year for all.

This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/855871.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

new normal.

ladygray99 — Fri, 03 Dec 2021 21:00:32 GMT

Actually sitting in a cafe having a coffee and scone in I don't know how long. Had my vaccine passport scanned and everything. After 100+ days of lockdown this coffee tastes so good.

This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/855561.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

Yuletide Letter 2021

ladygray99 — Sun, 17 Oct 2021 23:01:04 GMT

Dear Yuletide Author,
First, thank you. I don’t know about you but 2021 has felt a lot like 2020 2.0, a bit of an improvement but still a lot of bugs that need working out. I find I’m in the mood for character relationship examination. (Or sex. I’m always down for that.) General likes and don’t likes on the sex front.

Likes. I’m down for a little kink. Some spanking, some bondage, some dirty talk. Or just fucking. Nothing wrong with a bit of good old fashion fucking. Soft D/s BDSM

Don’t like. No dub/non-con, no daddy kink, incest, torture or body fluids that would be frowned upon by the CDC.
I’m up for some hurt/comfort but more comfort than hurt. Let’s avoid sickfic and no one dies. M’k?

And if you just want to examine individual characters and platonic relationships I’m good with that as well

A lot of these are going to be repeats of past requests (like I’m going to cut and paste from old letters) but there are some new ones as well. However you do it, thank you and I hope your 2022 is a good one.
Ladygra99

Walt Longmire Mysteries - Craig Johnson
Walt, Vic, and Henry

I love any combo of those three. Walt/Vic/Henry, Walt/Henry, Walt/Vic. I’m a third of the way into the newest book so no spoilers. If you read Second to Last Stand, you’ll know that Henry apparently keeps a tux in the back of Lola, just in case. I would love it if you could do something with that. It’s hard to avoid h/c with Walt’s tendency to get injured just by getting up in the morning so I’ll give a pass on that one as long as it’s not too bad.

The Affair of the Mysterious Letter - Alexis Hall
John Wyndham, Second Augur Gabriel Lawson, Shaharazad Haas

If you haven’t read this book go do yourself a huge favour and read this book. You might not finish it in time for yuletide so do it for yourself. Totally worth it. The audio book is also very well done.
If you have read this and are willing to write me more THANK YOU!

I want one of three things. Either slice of life John trying to live a normal life under the same roof as Shaharazad Haas. A full new case. Or Second Augur Lawson trying to start a romance with the oblivious and honorable Captain Wyndham while Shaharazad looks on utterly board that those two disasters just can't get it together to fuck.

The Expanse (TV)
Amos, Prax

I ship Amos and Prax more than any other pairing. I want Amos/Prax. Hot and heavy in the green house, sweet co-parenting, or any flavor in between.

Northern Exposure
Joel/Chris/Ed

That's what I want. Simple as that. I ask every year and one day Santa will deliver.

The Real Ghostbusters
Egon Spengler

Feeling a little nostalgic this year. I loved Egon as a kid. I loved his devotion to science. Egon/Science was maybe my first ship. The fact that he was an Action!Scientist just made him better. Maybe a look into his head as he had to shift from soft academic to a very physically demanding job might be interesting. Or really just a character study of any kind.

Star Trek: Lower Decks (Cartoon)
Beckett Mariner, Brad Boimler, D'Vana Tendi, Shaxs

Haters gonna hate but I like lower decks. I think it’s well written and the writers fucking know their Star Trek cannon. There are some DEEP cuts in there. So, I’ve got some requests.

I don’t ship Mariner and Boimler. I just can’t. They are BFF 5EVER. I love to see that friendship. I’d also love to see them in the future. One in the captain chair and one as number one (Your call). Maybe they’ve got a California class ship. (And let the USS Fresno be the worst in the fleet. I’ve got family there, I can say that.) Or maybe they’ve left star fleet. Maybe they’ve got their own ship and they run into Seven of Nine or Picard and his gang.

Then there is Mariner and Tendi. You can’t tell me Mariner wasn’t seriously turned on when sweet happy Tendi was getting her cousin to lick her boots. Tendi is obviously uncomfortable with that and how it was perceived but Mariner would so want more. Like if Mariner would take orders from anyone it would be Tendi in that outfit.

Shaxs. I love Shaxs. I love that punching someone in the face and blowing up a warp core is his favourite kind of day. I love that he calls Rutherford baby bear. I know I don’t have Rutherford listed but that relationship is at a special level. I love that he came back from the dead. Let’s be honest he would find the Celestial Temple boring af. If there was ever a Bajoran meant for Suto'vo'qor it’s Shaxs. Anything more with Shaxs.

And I know the episode hadn’t aired by the time nominations were closed but that Vulcan lowerdecker would be perfect on the Cerritos. And Mariner would be all over her business. Like knows like.

This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/855368.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

ladygray99 — Mon, 14 Dec 2020 23:28:21 GMT

I know this is a bit late but Happy Hanukkah to the flist. This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/854961.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

ladygray99 — Sat, 07 Nov 2020 23:35:54 GMT

and exhale This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/854725.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

Dear Yuletide Author

ladygray99 — Tue, 20 Oct 2020 00:32:27 GMT

Dear yuletide author,
I don’t know about you but 2020 has been a bitch of a year. Thank you so much for doing this.

Let’s start with what I want. Let’s keep it happy. After everything this year lets keep the mood up. Happy, maybe sexy, but just in general people not being shitty to each other. I like a little light kink but it’s not required. Handcuffs or a spanking. Nothing too hardcore. Safe sane consensual.

What I Do Not Want this year. Nothing that will remind me of politics. I can’t handle any more politics and by Christmas I will be fully burned out on that front. No illness. Normally I’m up for a little hurt/comfort or sickfic but not this year. No non or dub con. Like I said I don’t mind kink but no age play or anything that involves blood or body waste.

Fandom
Walt Longmire Mysteries - Craig Johnson
Walt, Vic, and Henry
I love any combo of those three. Walt/Vic/Henry, Walt/Henry, Walt/Vic. If you’ve read the newest book, Second to Last Stand, you’ll know that Henry apparently keeps a tux in the back of Lola just in case. I would love it if you could do something with that. It’s hard to avoid h/c with Walt’s tendency to get injured just by getting up in the morning so I’ll give a pass on that one as long as it’s not too bad.

Perry Mason (TV 2020)
Perry Mason, Lupe Gibbs, Hamilton Burger.
Perry/Hamilton
They fucked. I mean did you watch the show? They fucked. That and Perry got kicked out of the Army on a blue ticket. In WWI that was used to get rid of ‘undesirables’, basically gays, and black soldiers the army didn’t want to give benefits to. Perry and Hamilton, so much fucking. Probably with some praise kink teacher/student thing going on.

Perry/Lupe (or just Lupe)
I cannot explain how wonderful it was for me to see a dark skinned, Mexican woman, obviously over 40, and with obvious native heritage shown as both a sexual entity and a take charge business woman. Lupe was the balm for my soul in this shitstorm year. I could use some more of her.
Not commonly known fact, California had ongoing White/Hispanic segregation policies in the 20’s. Not quite as bad as the Black/White laws but Perry and Lupe would have been frowned upon in polite society. Not that either of them cared.

The Affair of the Mysterious Letter - Alexis Hall
John Wyndham, Second Augur Gabriel Lawson, Shaharazad Haas

If you haven’t read this book go do yourself a huge favor and read this book. You might not finish it in time for yuletide so do it for yourself. Totally worth it. The audio book is also very well done.
If you have read this and are willing to write me more THANK YOU!
I want one of three things. Either slice of life John trying to live a normal life under the same roof as Shaharazad Haas. A full new case. Or Second Augur Lawson trying to start a romance with the oblivious and honorable Captain Wyndham while Shaharazad looks on utterly board that those two disasters just can't get it together to fuck.

Thank you so much for all of this.

This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/854373.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

fuck

ladygray99 — Sat, 19 Sep 2020 07:21:50 GMT

FUCK
This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/854049.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

random star trek thoughts

ladygray99 — Thu, 17 Sep 2020 06:40:51 GMT

Do you think the borg see Picard as The One Who Got Away and Data as the rebound boyfriend who was actually a nice guy but the timing wasn't right? Do they keep their ear to star fleet channels trying to get gossip about Picard then debate if they should forward it to the queen? Like when he had his tantrum on galactic television we're they all just going "Damn, that's our Locutus! Zero chill." This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/853954.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

well then...

ladygray99 — Fri, 31 Jul 2020 22:09:04 GMT

I think I have Adult ADHD. I just took the WHO self response test and it's not looking good. It would explain SO FUCKING MUCH. This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/853271.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

Rebuilt

ladygray99 — Fri, 31 Jul 2020 00:37:50 GMT

Title: Rebuilt
Author: ladygray99
Fandom: Numb3rs
Rating: G
Prompt: #387 Doctor #471 Bother #138 Reunion #384 Associate #345 Spouse #2 Starting Over
Characters/Pairings: Don/Larry, Charlie, Nikki
Word count: 1100
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Summary: Don has crawled up the academic ladder and into the next phase of his life.
Notes: Part of the Rescue Me Series. This is the first anything I’ve written since I honestly don’t know when. 2020 is such a trash heap. Remember when we thought 2016 was the worst? Anyways I hope you all are well.
Beta: none (and I’m so tired)

The Committee (387 Doctor)

Don wiped the sweat from his palms but that didn’t stop the faint tremor in his hands. He could feel his pulse. It pounded in his ears and turned the chronic dull ache in his knee to a painful throb. He wanted to be sick but he’d done that already. Now all that was left was the waiting.

Larry took his still sweating hand and gave it a squeeze.

Don closed his eyes and tried to breathe, focusing on thoughts of warm nothingness.

Then his committee head opened the door and smiled at him. “Doctor Eppes, please come back in.”

Doctor Eppes (471 Bother)

Charlie held out his hand. It was weird seeing him here. Charlie had never actually been in the house he and Larry had rebuilt. Don took the offered hand.

“Doctor Eppes,” Charlie said with a smile.

“Doctor Eppes,” Don repeated, unable to help himself.

“Never thought I'd be saying that to you.” Don shrugged but Charlie was still smiling. “What are your plans now?”

“CalSci for a few semesters. Teachers with tenure don’t like covering Basic Astronomy and the Galaxy or The Evolving Universe.”
“I can understand that.”

“And apparently I put the fear of god into freshmen.”

Charlie laughed.

Leaving Insurance (138 Reunion)
(All those years, 496 prompts, how was Theory never a prompt word? I was sure it was a prompt word.)

“Doctor Eppes!” Nikki’s arms were thrown wide, the party was in full swing.

“Representative Betancourt.”

Nikki pulled him into a hug. “You actually did it. So, are you getting stars or comets or anything named after you?”

“Well the theory that rogue stars or really tiny blackholes can get too close to each other and rip apart solar systems, but stay far enough apart not to crash into each other is probably getting named after me.”

“Like getting the mirror knocked off your car when you park to get a quick coffee.”

“And stellar objects never leave their insurance information.”

A Question (384 Associate)

Don sunk into his couch. His leg hurt and he was unused to socializing like this anymore. Charlie, Amita, and the niblings had left first since it was a school night. The CalSci crew had spilled out next for much the same reason. The FBI contingent that had slowly reached out and reconnected over the years had hung on until last, possibly to convince themselves they weren’t as old as they knew they were.
Larry sat beside him and took his hand. “We’ll have to rearrange the wall again.”

Larry had insisted on framing and hanging every symbol of Don’s academic progression from his community college associate degree right on up.

“I guess I’ll have to do another graduation ceremony.” If he counted his pre-FBI life plus Quantico that would make seven times he’d sat and waited for an old man to hand him a piece of paper saying he could follow instructions and think. He tilted sideways until he was against Larry’s shoulder.

“I was wondering, if you’d be up for one more ceremony after receiving your diploma?”

“Is there some super doctorate I don’t know about, because no. This one nearly killed me.”

“Would you consider getting married?”

Considerations (345 Spouse)

Don did not answer or even look at Larry because he couldn't be sure he’d heard that right?

“What?”

“Would you consider, since-“ There was a sudden hesitation and waver in Larry’s voice. “I had hoped-”

“Shhhh.” Don cut him off. He needed to think. His brain felt fried after the day. Had Larry really just asked him..? Out of the blue. But was it out of the blue? Don tried to think back. It had been so long, more than a decade, since Larry had raised him off his own floor. It felt like a lifetime.

How long, Don wondered, had Larry been thinking about this. True spontaneity was rare in Larry, and Don had learned long ago that Larry was never spontaneous when it came to him; them. He wouldn’t risk it. That was one of the things Don loved about him.

Love.

He had taught himself to love the heavens precisely because they didn’t. Balls of gas, rock, and ice with no motivation that existed long before Don was born and would continue long after he was gone.

Larry’s hand was still in his, warm, alive, and so very present. A personal source of gravity.

“Okay. Yes.”

Early Morning Lectures (2 Starting Over)

Don looked over the sea of painfully young faces as he rubbed the wedding band on his finger, still growing accustomed to its weight and presence. Most were still rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Another reason CalSci was willing to create a whole position for him, most professors hated 8 a.m. lectures as much as the students. Don was still an early riser.

“Good morning.” He dropped a stack of papers on the desk of a particularly tired looking student. He’d never managed to go fully digital. “Welcome to Astrophysics 1: The Evolving Universe. Let me start by saying I do not care if this is your major or if you are just taking it for core curriculum. You are CalSci students and we have not yet reached rocket science so I will not accept slacking. Yes this is an easy A class but you still have to earn it. Am I clear?”

There were sleepy mumbles. It had been a long time since he’d heard the crisp ‘Yes, sir’ of a line of FBI recruits.

Don knocked his antique walking stick on the table once. The sound reverberated and all eyes snapped to him. “Let’s get the rumors out of the way before we get into the year. Yes, I am related to Doctor Eppes over in Math. Don’t try to get him to petition grade changes on your behalf, it will not work. Yes, I am married to Doctor Fleinhardt. Again, your grades are your problem. As for the rest,” Don locked eyes with a student who had swanned in a minute late but still exuding ego. “I have looked death in the eyes and death blinked first. Don’t try to pull shit on me.”

He turned on the projector.

“And now, welcome to the cosmos.”
This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/853236.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

Kitchen Thoughts

ladygray99 — Wed, 15 Jul 2020 00:02:57 GMT

If you add pre packaged pectin to marmalade is it really marmalade? Doesn't it just become citrus fruit jam instead? I would consider the slightly runny texture you get from boiling the skins for their pectin a defining feature of marmalade as apposed to the very firm setup you get with jam that has a box of pectin tipped into the mix. I mean if you turn a freshly opened jar of jam upside down it'll probably stay in the jar for at least a few moments where as marmalade is an instant splat. This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/852849.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

WTF Brain

ladygray99 — Fri, 17 Apr 2020 23:34:07 GMT

So last night I had a dream that was episode 1 of a new season on Numb3rs. Colby has gone into politics. Charlie is going through a relatively mild cancer treatment but is being investigated because he went to a conference in Russia and might have gotten mixed up in some spy stuff, then it flashed back to that conference and there was some weird spy stuff then my brain just went off the rails and there was this whole bit with vampires.

Anyways, how are you all doing?

This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/851760.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

Joining the club

ladygray99 — Mon, 23 Mar 2020 05:40:59 GMT

Welp, as of tomorrow I am homeschooling my kid and starting midnight Wednesday all of NZ is getting locked down.

This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/851575.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

Yuletide letter 2019

ladygray99 — Mon, 28 Oct 2019 03:09:46 GMT

Dear Yuletide author
Well, 2019 has been one forking heck of a year. I think we all need to take a deep breath and have a moment of escape before the hellscape of 2020 hits. So let’s go with romance, fluff, and people generally caring for each other.

Prodigal Son
I love this show. It's like watching someone try to fill out an entire procedural crime bingo card using just one story. Bright is a walking disaster, Edrisa is my flavor of nerd, Dani is just so soft under it all, and Gil is just a tired dad. If you haven't seen this yet I think it's on the Fox app so you can do a catch up. It's worth it even if you don't write it. I'm a Bright/Tanaka shipper but I'm also up for Dani and Malcolm either as bros or something more. I'm big on team #FeedBright so anything with Gil, or really anyone trying to get Malcolm to eat. Gil being a good dad to Malcolm or really any of the team just warms my heart. No death, non/dub-con, or incest please. Let's not go too much darker than the show.

Walt Longmire Mysteries - Craig Johnson
I'm all caught up on the books but behind on the show. I love Walt and Henry as a couple, I also love Walt and Vic. I'd gladly read Walt/Henry/Vic either full on sex or just being warm and happy together. And if maybe you're not up for the romance and want a stretch, well, as far as I'm concerned Virgil White Buffalo Lives!

The Expanse (TV)
I ship Amos and Prax more than any other pairing. I know the new season is going to sink that ship but screw up. I want Amos/Prax. Hot and heavy in the green house, sweet co-parenting, or any flavor in between.

The Good Place (TV)
If team cockroach doesn't get a happy ever after I'm going to flip a table! So just in case it doesn't happen I want to see the team happy together. Together as friends or together as more. Maybe they're collective soul mates. I don't know I just love them all.

Northern Exposure
Joel/Chris/Ed That's what I want. Simple as that. This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/851221.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

A Squeeze of Lemon

ladygray99 — Mon, 30 Sep 2019 09:38:28 GMT

Title: A Squeeze of Lemon
Author: ladygray99
Fandom: Prodigal Son
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings:Malcolm Bright, Gil Arroyo, Jackie Arroyo
Word count: 699
Warnings/Spoilers: Cannon food avoidance.
Summary: Malcolm needs to eat and Gil needs to check on Malcolm.
Notes: This is the first non yuletide fic I’ve written since 2015 which says something about my life and maybe something about this show. Only one episode so far. It’s either going to be brilliant or a train wreck. Right now it’s a bit like watching someone try to black out a trope bingo card using only one story. I’m kinda loving it.
Beta: none

There were only two people who would so brazenly break into his apartment and his mother had already dished out her monthly dose of ‘care’. She also never filled his apartment with the smell of food.

Malcolm climbed the steps even as his stomach flipped about. It was one of his many ongoing wars. His body insisted he needed basic sustenance to live and his brain said ‘no’ like an angry toddler, often forcing later rejection of what was consumed.

“Hello, Gil.”

“Hey, Bright.”

‘You’re a bright boy,’ she said cupping his cheek, her hands smelling like garlic and lemon. ‘You should do something with that.’

“What’s cooking?” Malcolm forced a smile. “And since when do you cook?”

“Since I decided I’m a grown man and cannot live on Chinese takeout and dirty water hotdogs, although I can tell you’ve been trying to manage on even less than that so sit and eat.”

“I’m fine,” Malcolm insisted out of principle more than fact.

“You’ve lost at least 40 pounds since you joined the feds and I can tell because I hugged you.” Gil ladled soup out of the pot bubbling on the stove and into a waiting bowl which was then placed on the counter where a spoon was waiting. Malcolm sat and peered into the bowl. It was mostly broth, a few bits of carrot and celery, and wide egg noodles. Gil’s bowl was more solid than liquid with big pieces of chicken and piles of vegetables. Gil stared at him until he lifted his spoon and took a sip.

He’d taken the subway. It was his first time on the trains that had rumbled beneath his feet. He’d stood studying the map for twenty minutes, trying to commit the rout to memory. His sister was with the new nanny, their old one having quit in terror. His mother was drunk, and he just had to get out. Get out of that house, get out of that life. He knew it was dangerous, a child alone in New York. He didn’t care. He got off the train and walked block after block, comparing the numbers to the slip of paper clenched in his hand. The apartment was tiny. Rent controlled for a beat cop and a school teacher. Jackie had asked if he was hungry. He nodded. The nanny wasn’t the only one who quit. The entire household staff had run and his mother wasn’t good at remembering things like meals. And his body hadn’t yet started to reject even the thought of food. She floated a thick tortilla in the bowl which had a little chip on the rim. The spoon wasn’t a soup spoon and the bowl was deep. He was so hungry then. The nightmares hadn’t started yet.

He sipped the broth, his body rejoicing and railing at the same time. “It’s very French, you know?” he said.

“What is?” Gil asked.

“The squeeze of lemon Jackie always put in the broth. Brightens the flavour. You get it in French cooking. Greek as well. Probably a Mediterranean thing.”

“And you would know a lot about Mediterranean cooking?”

Malcolm shrugged and forced himself to take another sip. The broth in his mouth was soft and warm, savoury and bright. He swallowed and it landed like liquid lead. “Couple of summers in the south of France. Sunburned whiney American child. Didn’t appreciate the food when it was available.”

“Nothing stopping you from going now.”

Malcolm actually smiled. He knew all this was Gil testing out his state of mind. Anyone else he would have thrown out.

“I thought you liked having me back in the city?”

“Not if it’s going to keep you from sampling the delicacies of the French countryside.”

Malcolm smiled into his soup and took a third sip which seemed to settle with more ease than the first two. Maybe they would actually stay down tonight. Maybe his dreams would be memories of Gil and Jackie’s tiny apartment, with its clattering radiator, and Formica table. Where he’d felt safe enough to cry into the shoulders of people who were nearly strangers and eat chicken soup after.

“Nah, I’m fine here. This is enough for me.”
This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/851000.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

Nothing's Gonna Change

ladygray99 — Mon, 30 Sep 2019 09:11:15 GMT

Title:Nothing's Gonna Change
Author: ladygray99
Fandom: Detectorists
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Lance Stater, Andy Stone, Becky (Detectorists)
Word count: 1428
Summary: As soon as Lance realized Becky must be pregnant he was sure that would be the end of him and Andy. How much time would a new dad have for treasure hunting, anyhow?
Notes: yuletide 2018 for feroxargentea

Nothing's Gonna Change The plastic handle of the Tesco’s bag was beginning to cut into Lance’s hand as he stood at the door of the hospital room unsure what to do, if he should knock or call out. Finally, Becks shifted around and spotted him. Her lips quirked in a half smile. She looked exhausted, absolute rubbish if he was honest but also probably happier than she’d looked in months.

“Come on in, Lance,” she said with a deep sigh but it was a friendly one.

Andy spun around, he had a bundle in his arms wrapped tight in a white and blue hospital blanket. He rushed over before Lance could get more than a couple of steps in.

“Look what Becky went and did.” He leaned over so Lance could get a good look at the bundle.

The baby was red, bald, and lumpy, and looked a bit like Winston Churchill in his later years. Andy was grinning like he’d just found Saxon gold.

“Well would you look at that, it’s a little human. Good job, Becks.”

“Thanks,” she said before biting down on an ice chip.

“Got a name yet?”

“Nah, still debating.”

Lance had spent a month of lunches and afternoon teas listening to Andy debate baby names with himself only to come back the next day and find that Becky hadn’t liked them.

“Well,” he held up the bag. “I brought nappies. Figured you’ll be needing those first. “

“Thanks mate.”

Lance put the nappies down by a bunch of flowers someone must have sent then didn’t know what to say. Andy’s focus had shifted back to the bundle and Becky was still chewing on ice chips.

“I guess I’ll—”

A nurse and doctor bustled in. “All right, men out of the room. Time to check on mum.”

No one seemed to notice or perhaps didn’t care that Andy was holding the baby as they were shooed from the room and the curtains drawn.

Lance took a moment to look over Andy. He looked like rubbish as well. “So, how’d it go?”

“Long. But really Becks did all the work. I was just there so she’d have someone to swear at. I think even the nurses were impressed.”

“Becks does have a mouth on her.” It was one of the things Lance liked about her.

Andy looked around conspiratorially. “Mate, I really have to take a leak. Can you just--” he started handing the baby to Lance. Lance took a half step back. “Come on, it’s easy, here.” Andy thrust his new born son and heir into Lance’s arms, took a half second to make sure his head was supported, then rushed off in the direction of the loos.

Lance looked down at the baby who had fluttered its eyes open for a second then shut them again. He’d never had a strong paternal instinct. He chalked it up to the fact that he knew he had a daughter out there already. That, and for as much as he loved Maggie, he knew from day one she was crazy and would be equally crazy as a mum. Becky would be a good mum though. Already a school teacher. Good head on her shoulders.

“Hello there,” Lance whispered. “I’m your uncle Lance. I’m a detectorist. Your da is a detectorist as well, a pretty good one so don’t you believe him when he starts banging on about archaeology and digging in dirt for bits of pot and bone.”

Andy was in front of him again a second later taking the babe back into his arms. “Thanks, mate. Can not explain how long I’ve been holding that in.”

“No problem.”

“You got plans for the day?”

“Was planning to check that new field off Gay Bowers Road. Just a preliminary sweep.”

“Oh, okay.” They both looked down, Andy at the baby, Lance at his feet. He knew this was going to happen. Weeks before Andy had figured out Becky was pregnant, he’d already known this was how it would happen. Andy was his best mate, but he’d have to be a dad first. “So, you know, they’ve got these carry pouches now that blokes can wear. Strap the baby to your front, do whatever you need to do.
“Is that so?” Lance didn’t let himself sound excited. Being a detectorists was usually a solitary endeavour. Having Andy by his side all these years had been a happy bonus.

“Yeah.”

“Well, no rush mate. The shell casings and pull tabs of Danebury aren’t going anywhere anytime soon.”

Andy smiled. “Sure. No finding a Saxon hoard without me though.”

Lance made himself smile back. “Can’t promise that, but I swing around once you're home. Bring a curry so you two don’t have to cook.”

“Sounds good.” The baby squeaked sounding more like a kitten than what Lance thought of as a baby. “You know nothings gonna change, mate. Not really. We’ll figure it all out.”

“Yeah. Of course. Never had a thought to the contrary.”

There was the sound of heavy feet approaching. Andy looked up and Lance looked over his shoulder. The rest of the Danebury Metal Detecting Club with Sheila in the lead were coming down the wide hall and getting side eyed by the nurses.

“Here’s the rest of the gang. I’ll clear out, give you and Becky some space.”

“I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you.”

Lance went out the side door before the rest of the group could swoop in.

~

A crow squawked loud enough that he could hear it even through the headphones. He’d been hoping for gold today. He always hoped for gold but he was hoping for something nice that he could show off to the lad when he was older and say I found this on the day you were born.

So far there was nothing. Not even pull tabs as he slowly marched along the freshly ploughed rows. There was a whistle of distortion and he backed up, waving his detector over a spot then got down on one knee. It hadn’t sounded like gold but it sounded like something.
The freshly turned earth was soft and it quickly revealed a crisps bag.

“Typical.” He looked up to show it to Andy. A crow landed nearby instead. “Crisp pack,” he said to the crow. The crow tilted its head then flew off. He folded the bag neatly and slipped it into his back pocket before filling in the hole.

~

“I will come and pick you up,” Becky reiterated out the window. “Stan is not getting near that yellow nightmare of Lance’s.”

“You never complain when I drive Andy.” Lance felt the need to defend his brilliant ’77 Triumph even knowing full well is wasn’t remotely child compatible by modern standards.

“I didn’t spend 41 weeks growing him.”

Andy gave Becky a kiss. “We will be fine. Go take the afternoon off. You’ve earned it.”

Becky frowned, gave a hard eye first to her husband, then Lance (though he wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve it), then gave her son a kiss before getting back in her much more modern car and slowly driving off.

Lance looked Andy over. He had Stan strapped to his chest, his detector across his back, and a bag hanging from each shoulder because apparently you need the same amount of equipment to care for a baby for an afternoon as you need to climb Everest.

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to manage this?” Lance asked.

“Absolutely. Been practicing in the front drive. Look a fool to the neighbours but who cares. Let me just put the bags down and we can get to work.”

Lance shook his head as Andy marched to the field. “Maybe we’ll find gold today. I can tell him he found gold on his first time out.”

They didn’t find gold. Lance found a shotgun shell. Andy found a 5 pence piece from 1987. They sat under the tree. Lance made them both tea while Andy fiddled around with a bottle of milk and thermos of hot water and a thermometer. Stan latched on it with gusto.

“Did you catch QI last night?” Lance asked as he sipped his tea.

“Tried to. Fell asleep five minutes in, woke up for General Ignorance.”

“It was a good one. You should catch it on the repeat.”

“I’ll try. Maybe once I’m getting a little more sleep.”

Lance laughed. “So, another four or five years.

Andy laughed as well. “At least I made it out here.”

“Yeah mate, Yeah, ya did.”
This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/850936.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

posting this again

ladygray99 — Sat, 27 Oct 2018 23:04:02 GMT

NZ Immigrating

https://www.immigration.govt.nz/new-zealand-visas

Yeah, housing is tight in Auckland and gas is 8 bucks a gallon but there is single payer healthcare and gun control is a thing.

This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/849959.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

Dear yuletide writer

ladygray99 — Wed, 17 Oct 2018 06:06:18 GMT

Dear Yuletide Writer,
I can’t believe it’s that time of year already. Weeeeeeee. Okay, full disclosure, I took a bad fall the other day and ended up in the ER. I’m home now but I’m on some REALLY good drugs as I write this so if it comes out rambling and a bit stoned well that’s because I’ve been a bit high for about five days now. Yippy!

First, do not want. Gore. Particularly medical gore. Character death unless cannon. Overly dark plotlines and men being assholes because fuck 2018.

As for what I want.

Northern Exposure
Chris/Ed/Joel
I ask for this every year. Any combination or all three together. Fluff, smut, whatever you feel like writing I’m down with.

Detectorists
If you haven’t seen this series do yourself a favour and watch it. It’s listed at a comedy but if anything it’s really a sweet, quiet, meditation. The first two seasons are on Netflix and the third is still on BBC iPlayer. You can honestly binge the entire series in a day. Even if you don’t write it watch the show and make yourself happy.
After the series finally what I really, really want is Louise and Varde’s wedding, and the Danebury Metal Detecting Club trying to make it the grandest thing ever in their own special way. If not that then just Lance and Andy working a field in their usual way.

Longmire (TV)
I’m up to date with the books but am a couple seasons behind on the show. What I want is Henry and Walt, or Walt and Vic, or Vic and Walt and Henry. Or any combination, any rating. They are my OT3

American Gods (TV)
Apparently, things are absolute chaos on the season 2 set with power massive power struggles between the High Art faction and the Stick to the Book faction, so Odin only knows what we’ll get on the screen. I know what I want for yuletide though. Salim and The Jinn. Their moments were the most beautiful of season 1 and I want more in any way shape or form.

Star Trek: Discovery
I wish I could say give me all the characters because I loved all the characters and screw the haters. So here are so ideas. Ash and Michael. They had such a deep and complicated relationship. It’s so rare on TV that we see the guy just lay his head on the woman’s chest in exhaustion, needing emotional comfort, showing weakness. Michael and Tilly. I love their relationship. I know a lot of people didn’t like Tilly but I get her. You can tell she grew up constantly being told to be polite, get herself under control, don’t ask question, don’t be rude. That comment about her mother liking her hair flat and blonde just has an entire childhood of exasperation in it. But then comes Michael who doesn’t dismiss her plans to become a captain and totally has her back. (In one of the After Trek episodes they talk about how great it is to do a show and have natural hair.) I’d love to see anything with them from best friends to hot and heavy F/F. Hugh and Paul are just my heart. I can only nominate one but any point of their relationship or perhaps Staments facing Hugh’s parents. Or really anything you’re up for writing.

The Expanse (TV)
Amos and Prax! Amos and Prax, Amos and Prax! Don’t care how. BFF pen pals. Sweet co-parents. Hot and sexy lovers. Just give me Amos and Prax.

Gold in the Light

ladygray99 — Thu, 24 May 2018 02:11:17 GMT

Title: Gold in the Light
Author: ladygray99
Fandom: Forever Knight
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Urs, Javier Vachon, Screed, Bourbon
Word count: 1,049
Warnings/Spoilers: Backstory
Summary: Urs was a creature of the night long before she was brought across.
Notes: For androcksandthings at yuletide

(Gold in the Light)

This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/849663.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

Thor Headcannon

ladygray99 — Fri, 03 Nov 2017 01:00:06 GMT

That is actually Matt Damon playing himself. Loki kidnapped/hired him to play the part.
This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/849140.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

Dear Yultide Author

ladygray99 — Mon, 09 Oct 2017 08:57:35 GMT

Dear Author,
Yikes! I thought I'd have a couple of days to write this. That new sorting algorithm is FAST!

So, what do I want for Yultide. It's been dark year on a pretty global level. Lets try to keep it light. I don't mind a bit of angst but lets aim for happy endings. I like sex. I don't even mind a bit of kink, but I also like fluffy, fluffy, fluff. Mostly though have fun with what you write. I hope there is something here that will inspire. Don't stress yourself out.

The Expanse Series

I've just started book 3 so if you could avoid major spoilers that would be nice. I ship Amos and Prax. I know it's weird but I love their interactions. I love the way Amos just sort of takes Prax in even though Jim is supposed to be the hero character. I know Amos has a Tragic Backstory which I haven't read yet but I can guess at some of it. I know some of the fandom dismisses Amos as just the Dumb Muscle, Jayne type character but when I read him, and this is in part Wes Chatham's portrayal, he reminds me more of guys I've worked with who are on the edge of the aspergers spectrum. Smart but missing those basic social graces.

If those two don't float your boat I love Bobbie and Chrisjen's interactions. Really anything with those two. I only hope I can be as fabulous and sweary as Chrisjen by the time I'm a grandmother.

The Walt Longmire Mysteries

Give me Walt and Vic. Give me Walt and Henry. Give me Walt and Vic and Henry. I'll take them any way I can get them. Also I firmly believe that Virgil White Buffalo Lives! Any interaction between him and Walt is wonderful. Even if it's just Walt half dead (again) and having visions. If you read the last book you'll know it ended on a mother fucker of a cliff hanger. If you feel the urge to resolve it so I don't have to track down Craig Johnson and duct tape him to his computer that would be cool as well.

Northern Exposure.

Joel/Ed/Chris. I ask for it every year with no shame. Any combination of the above is welcome.

Unbreakable Kimmy Schmit.

I want to see Kimmy in college doing college things. I want to see her hanging out with the rowing team. They obviously loved her and she spent most of her life hanging out with a group of women. Also her hanging out with Xan. She drives Xan nuts but there is mutual caring there and they would have been semi roommates. I also love Titus and Jacqueline. Jacqueline the Agent is going to take over the world and Titus is going to dragged along kicking and screaming.

Upstart Crow

Kate! I love Kate. I need more Kate being Kate. Trying to get progressive ideas into Will's plays. Putting Marlow in his place. Just Kate.

Forever Knight

Forever Knight was the first fandom I was truly active in. I wrote on the Usenet groups and was involved in the Wars. When season three rolled around I declared as a Ratpacker! Some of my first online friends that I never met were fellow Ratpackers. Not long ago I was reminded of this and went to look up Greg Kramer who played Screed. I found that he'd passed away in 2013. Not only did we lose a fine actor way to young but I was so far removed from my first fandom that I didn't find out until almost four years after the fact. So maybe a little Screed this yuletide. Him and Vachon in their glory days having fun.

This entry was originally posted at https://ladygray99.dreamwidth.org/848781.html. Please comment there using OpenID.