sorry sara i tried

Shepard: So I believe what you’re trying to say, is ‘thank you’.

Ryder: Thank you?

Shepard: You’re welcome!

Ryder: What? No, no, no. I didn’t- why would I…?

Shepard: Okay, okay. *laughs*

Shepard: I see what’s happening here
You’re face to face with greatness, and it’s strange
You don’t even know how you feel
It’s adorable!
Well, it’s nice to see you kids never change

Open your eyes, let’s begin
Yes, it’s really me: Shepard. Breathe it in!

I know it’s a lot, I look like hell
After saving the damn Citadel!

What can I say except you’re welcome
For those Reapers I blew from the sky
Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay
You’re welcome
I only had suffocate and die!

What has two thumbs and saves galaxies
While the council “works” (bitch please!)
That’s me!

On Noveria cold
Who stopped the geth from down below
You’re lookin’ at her, yo!

Oh, also I cured the genophage
You’re welcome!
To bring about “peace” for an age

Brought Cerberus to its knees
You’re welcome!
Just give me in-store discounts please!

So what can I say except you’re welcome
For Saren, who I beat up with glee
Ryder, you’ll find your way
You’re welcome!
Just remember none are more badass than me!
You’re welcome!
You’re welcome!

Well, come to think of it
Kid, honestly I could go on and on
I can explain every battle I’ve ever won
Earth, Palaven, Tuchunka, Thessia
Easy to save when you are the best-ia

I killed vorcha
I buried its guts
Dated a turian (which was kinda nuts)
What’s the lesson
What is the take-away
Don’t mess with Shepard when she’s on a break away

And these scars right here on my face
Are caused by renegade actions in space
Look at my crew
We make everything happen
Look at that geth Legion just tickety-tappin’
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Hey!

Well, anyway let me say you’re welcome
For the galaxy that you now know
Hey it’s okay, it’s okay
You’re welcome
Well, come to think of it, I think,
I should go

Hey, it’s your day to say you’re welcome
‘Cause I’m gonna need the Tempest
To go find the Normandy
You’re welcome
'Cause I only fly the very best!

You’re welcome
You’re welcome
You’re welcome

[from a distance] : It’s your problem now!

okaY so ConSider ThIs–Mick’s medical skills probably aren’t half bad.

Like Len said, Mick’s always been the muscle to Len’s brains, and that means more often than not, Mick is the one coming home with the injuries, which he usually had to treat himself–Len isn’t an option, because as clever as he is with his hands, Len doesn’t really do gentle with anyone other than his sister (and sometimes not even then), and as a general rule, Mick doesn’t like to be touched by anyone that he doesn’t know and trust .  So he had to learn to administer medical treatment to himself.  He’s not a brain surgeon, but he’s about as good as someone who’s self-taught can be.  He knows how to check for a concussion and internal bleeding, how to stitch up an injury and deal with infection, and has a grasp of basic pain relief.  (He also probably knows how to deal with bullet wounds pretty capably as well).

Mick doesn’t really like to advertise these skills–they’re helpful when he needs them, absolutely.  That’s 99% of the reason why he cultivated them, but this particular skillset is distinctly removed from the version of himself that he likes to project.  Now, he doesn’t hide them either, but the ship can treat most other injuries, so really he doesn’t see much point in utilizing them when they’re unnecessary.

Ray is the first to find out.  Mick had meant it, after the gulag, when he’d said that they were even, and was personally content to leave it at that.  But Ray’s medical (and self preservation) sensibilities are terrible, and even though practically all his ribs are broken from that damn sledgehammer, his solution is to just go “eh, I’ll just bandage them and get back to work,”  because that’s how they deal with broken ribs in movies and stuff, right?  Wrap bandages around them and troop on?  Ray just makes the mistake of asking Mick for a hand bandaging them.  Ray winces immediately after, intimidated by the force of Mick’s glare, and pretty sure Mick is going to refuse his request for help on the spot.  He did not expected Mick to sigh in irritation because for fuck’s sake, sure, if you wanna die of pneumonia.  Instead, Mick does a quick check–running his hands along Ray’s ribs, trying to ensure that none of them are in danger of puncturing a lung.  Then, he firmly steers Ray into bed and gives him painkillers, as well as stern instructions to rest.  The rest of the crew coos at this, though Mick maintains that he was not doing a nice thing, he was just preventing an act of egregious idiocy.  No one actually believes him.

Sara is next.  She does not get injured so often anymore (I mean, it does happen, but more often than not she emerges from ridiculously dangerous situations utterly unscathed, a skill of which the rest of the crew is very envious).  But her old wounds might as well be fresh ones, some days–there was no time for proper healing on Lian Yu, and certainly not as a member of the League of Assassins, where you either got up and kept fighting or were left for dead.  As a result, many of her old wounds still pain her–a knot of scar tissue just under her arm that aches fiercely when it rains, a knee that hurts to move when she overexerts herself (which is hard, but not impossible).  Before joining the Legends crew, she would have masked her pain.  She’s gone years just gritting her teeth and pushing her way through.  But the more time that passes with the team, the less her instincts tell her to hide the pain–the more comfortable she is letting herself be seen at her weakest.  Now, on her worst days, after particularly brutal battles, she’ll give up on it altogether, and limp through the Waverider to collapse on the couch (yes, the Waverider has a living room, because I say so).  Now, the team will all try to comfort her in their own ways.  Jax and Ray will sit on the other side of the table and play board games with her.  Stein tries to replicate Clarissa’s mac and cheese (he cannot, but the effort is thoroughly appreciated), Rip will quietly postpone their next mission, and Len offers comfort as non-obtrusively as he can.  But Mick? Mick shows with a heat compress and a liniment for her knee and some advice–(lay on your side and put a pillow between your legs, it will straighten your spine and take the pressure of your injury) from old injuries of his own.

Jax (and by extension, Stein) find out the extent of Mick’s medical expertise in the field, when Jax takes a bullet in the side.  He’s hemorrhaging fast, flames flickering out as he unfuses with Stein, who looks so worried that a heartattack may be a legitimate risk. They’re far from the ship–but not from a nearby medical clinic.  Before the rest of the team can process what’s going on, Mick is pressing a jacket (requisitioned from Snart) to Jax’s side, and rushing him into the clinic, where one of the doctor’s takes over.  That should be the end of it, but Mick has had more than his fair share of bullet wounds, and backseat drives the fuck out of that medical procedure, because there’s no need to be so rough, doc and if I’d wanted him to bleed out I would have left him out there, jesus and basically just glares and intimidates until the doctor, in frustration, pushes the tools into Mick’s hands, because “you do it, then!”.  Mick shrugs, and does the job more neatly and efficiently than the doctor could have hoped (much to the man’s chagrin).

After that, the rest of the crew starts coming to him for everything.  For such a violent, large person, Mick is surprisingly delicate when treating injuries, with a feather-light touch.  Most of the crew discovers that they prefer being treated by Mick (who tries to avoid causing them pain, and who is almost sympathetic when he has to) than they do Gideon in the medbay.  Kendra gets a cut on her leg while sparring? She’ll hop, leg dripping, to his room and knock on the door–”Hey Mick, can you take a look at this for me?”

Stein thinks his back is acting up again? “Mr. Rory, would you mind terribly advising me on this?”

Even Rip gets in on it, though he argues that its because when he’s injured, he likes being able to receive treatment in the comfort of his own quarters.

Every time, Mick grumbles, don’t you guys have Gideon for this? I thought this ship was from the future–.  But every time, he takes a look at it, because he just knows that if he refuses they’ll just stand there looking sad and mopey, before limping off to the medbay, and for fuck’s sake, he’s not heartless (and maybe he likes knowing that he can use his hands for something other than destruction, but that’s another beast altogether)

TL;DR–consider Mick Rory, entirely against his will, becoming the team medic (and sighing because, damn, if he doesn’t step up, these idiots are all gonna die.)

(PS, let it be noted that, inevitably, there may be some basis in batmanisagatewaydrug’s headcanons in here, particularly her headcanons about Sara’s old injuries causing her pain, because her headcanons are so good that I can’t help but think of them as ingratiated into canon.)

Prompt Fill

@joz-stankovich here you go! I hope you like it! Also, it is slightly NSFW, just for you ;)

Also, also, it is long, and I am not sorry. And, you can blame Hozier and Snow Patrol for the feels, all right?

Originally posted by pixel8or

“We shouldn’t be here,” Sara whispered.

Reyes put a finger to his lips, silently telling her to keep quiet. The smuggler was stealthy, but she could see the excitement in the slight flush of his cheeks. Or maybe it was the humidity.

“Seriously, Reyes,” she continued. “If Evfra finds out we were here…” Really, the more she thought about it, the more she thought Paaran Shie might be the bigger problem. Or the Moshae. Sara blanched at the thought, but allowed Reyes to pull her through the dense foliage of Aya’s jungle.

The trees were stout, with thick trunks and broad branches that blocked out the sun. They walked along the faint trail, dodging whip-like branches and vines, the humid chill of the dense forest clinging to the skin her tank top left bare.

“Where are you even taking me?” She asked as they clambered over a particularly large root structure.

“It would hardly be a surprise if I told you,” he chided. “Plus, this way you can claim ignorance if we do get caught.” He said nothing more, but took her hand to help her down from the large, protruding root they climbed over. Once she was on the path again, he didn’t release her hand, but laced his fingers through hers to pull her along after him.

They walked in silence, Sara trying not to let the looming fear of ruining the Initiative’s relationship with the angara just so her boyfriend could surprise her ruin said surprise. Reyes was careful, and all about control. He wouldn’t have brought her here if he thought there was any real risk. She hoped.

The sound of rushing water was her first clue. Though the jungle was far from quiet, with giant tree limbs creaking in the wind, and the Ayan equivalent of birds calling to one another, the roar of the waterfall was loud. She gasped as the sound registered, and he looked back at her with a grin. Her trepidation fell away as they stepped out into the sun.

The waterfall fell into a large, blue pool that trickled off in multiple directions via streams and creeks. The tree line grew into the water on one side, providing shade, while the rest of the pool was ringed in large river rock, except for one spot that had worn down into pale white sand. It was there that a familiar aqua and purple blanket was laid out with snacks and drinks waiting for them.

She spun to face Reyes, who had fallen back to observe her reaction to his surprise. “How did you…?”

He grinned. “I called in a few favors,” he said. He led her to the blanket, and then kicked off his shoes. His t-shirt went next, followed by his pants, until he wore just the black boxer briefs Sara loved so much. “The spot is ours today,” he said. “We won’t be disturbed.”

That was all she needed to hear. Sara stripped down, pausing as she reached back to unclasp her bra. “You’re certain it’ll just be the two of us?”

He raised a dark eyebrow at her. “You think I’d go through all of this and not be sure to have you all to myself?”

His words raised the hairs on the back of her neck and she unhooked her bra. She dropped it to the blanket, then stepped out of her underwear as Reyes did the same. She watched him, enjoying the view, and then asked the question that bounced around her mind relentlessly.

“What’s the occasion?”

He shrugged. “No occasion,” he said. “With Scott and Gil on their honeymoon we could use a small vacation of our own.” He glanced at her and smirked. “And I know how much you like skinny dipping.”

Sara groaned. “That was one time, when I was sixteen!”

“And yet, here you are, completely bereft of clothes.”

She rolled her eyes at his grin, but couldn’t fight a smile of her own. She took his hand and led him to a rock that jutted out over the water. The sun warmed the dark stone, and its heat on the soles of her feet felt so good that she wasn’t sure she even wanted to get in the water. It had been so long since her skin had felt the heat of the sun, so many months spent holed up on her ship or bounding from office to office to deal with finicky officials. She sighed. Reyes was right; she needed this.

She leaned in to him, kissing his jawline, and he hummed appreciatively. “Thank you,” she murmured. “And, I’m sorry.”


Sara pressed both hands to his bare chest and shoved him off the rock and into the pool. She laughed as he spluttered, cursing her in Spanish. He lunged for her, trying to pull her in, but Sara dove over him. The water was cool and the shock of it stole her breath. She broke the surface with a gasp, then cried out when she heard Reyes swimming after her. She laughed and they splashed at each other as she led him on a chase around the pool.

She’d always been a strong swimmer, she could have easily kept out of his reach, but it was so much more fun to be caught. She headed to the sandy shore but once her feet found the bottom she waited for him to catch up.

Reyes practically collided with her. His hands latched onto her hips, lifting her with ease to wrap her legs around his waist. She gripped his shoulders and dropped her mouth to his, eager to taste him after all the built up anticipation of the day. He carried her from the water, his mouth focused on her neck until he they lay down, dripping on the blanket.

He murmured against the skin of her neck, then her collarbone, then her sternum as he trailed down her body, his hands roving in contrast with the determined path of his lips. As his mouth wound its way even further south, Sara’s eyes closed and her vision flashed white behind her eyelids to match the glow of the sun above her.

Reyes was right; she really needed this.

He watched her lay on the blanket, the one he’d picked out just for her when he’d built the casita, and tried to settle his nerves. She was perfect. He always thought so, but in this moment he’d finally convinced her that she should feel that way too. The breeze was gentle, and now that they were dry it was sweet relief from the Ayan sun. It played with her still damp hair that was so much shorter than he’d grown accustomed to. Not that it mattered, her hair had been even shorter when they first met. 

This moment, sunbathing and dozing in the sun, relaxed and sated, was perfect. He wasn’t sure he could orchestrate one better, which meant there was no time like the present.

He fumbled through his pant pockets, still piled on the sand, until he found what he was looking for. He stared at the delicate silver band for a second. It was simple, unadorned save for the subtle wave pattern engraved on the outside to match her family ring.

Looking at it, he suddenly felt foolish. He wasn’t even sure she really wanted to get married, it wasn’t something they’d talked about in any certain terms. There’d been plenty of talk about someday and after she was done being the Pathfinder, but his time on the Tempest with her had proved to him that they couldn’t count on time being there for them. If she was willing, he wanted to take advantage of the time they did have.

He swallowed down the anxiety that clawed at his throat and settled down beside her. Instinctively she turned so that her back pressed to his chest, and she hummed happily as his arm draped over her side. He held the ring out in her line of sight, but she didn’t react.

“Sara,” he whispered against her ear. His voice shook, but he ignored it. “Open your eyes.”

Her body tensed against him, and her breath caught in her throat. Even he stopped breathing as he waited for her reaction. She didn’t say anything for a long moment, but her breathing picked up, and he heard the distinct sniffling sounds of her crying.

“I don’t want to rush you,” he stammered. “I don’t know what you want, but this doesn’t have to mean anything more than you want it to.”

“Absolutely not,” she said through her tears.

Reyes’ heart plummeted. He’d had his doubts, but he definitely hadn’t expected outright rejection. “What?”

She took the ring from him with shaking fingers and slid it into place on her left hand. Then she rolled in his arms to face him. “You are not talking your way out of this one,” she said. Her blue eyes were so bright, and the green centers seemed to glow through her tears as she stared up at him, waiting for him to continue.

He cleared his throat, struggling to regain some sort of composure. “Sara Artemis Ryder,” he breathed. “Will you-”

“Yes!” The word bubbled out of her as she nodded, and he was so relieved that she’d interrupted him that he didn’t even argue when her mouth met his. They kissed, lying together under the Ayan sun, the wind rustling the trees as the waterfall roared behind them. It was perfect, there was no way Reyes could have planned a better moment.

And then she slapped his chest.

“You said there was no occasion!” She glared up at him, though her eyes still sparkled with unbridled joy.

He grinned at her, his own heart feeling suddenly buoyant in his chest. “I lied.”


Happy 35th birthday, Tegan and Sara!

Let Me Come Home (Home Is When I'm Alone with You)

Pairing(s): Olicity

Rating: M (there be sexy times, well at least I hope it comes off sexy)

Word Count: 4320

Audio: Inspiration from this song




Growing up Felicity Smoak never really understood the term “home”.

People told her that home was warm, comforting, and a place where you belonged. When her third grade teacher, Mrs. Stevens, asked the class to write a description of what their home was like, all the other boys and girls talked about their mommies and daddies and siblings and pets and the big houses they lived in with white picket fences and swing sets in their backyards. They talked about teasing their siblings and how their moms would kiss their booboos and their dads would play sports with them. Felicity didn’t write about that. She didn’t write about anything. It was the only time throughout her many years of education that she didn’t turn in an assignment.


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