Smith can’t help but keep grinning, running his eyes along the panels of buttons and reminding himself of what they were all for. His first spaceflight, in the jets built to handle low atmospheric pressure and interplanetary warfare. His heart is thudding in his chest and his palms are sweating through his gloves. He knows Ross and Trott are watching from the sidelines, and wonders if they’re as nervous as he is.
“This is not fun, I take it back! I take it back!” Ross whined as he tried to stop his spinning in zero gravity.
“I’m going to fucking hurl.” His momentum propelled him closer to Trott, who tried to back away in panic.
“Don’t fucking puke on me, Ross. I’ll kill you.” Trott tried futilely to paddle away, to no use.
Smith was upside down, laughing so hard at his friend’s flailing that his sides hurt.
Smith, Ross, and Trott, newly recruited to the space division, experience zero gravity for the first time.
Rating: Teen (for language)
CW: mention of vomiting though it doesn’t actually happenIf I need to tag anything else, let me know.
Smith runs. His feet pound the pavement so hard it hurts, his chest tight as he forces himself up three flights of stairs to the apartment. By the time he reaches the door, he is so out of breath he can hardly get the key in the lock.
Smith gets his acceptance letter to the space division.
CW: cursing?If I need to tag anything else, let me know.
Ross is halfway inside the underbelly of a plane when he gets the phone call. He extracts himself and hooks his wrench in his belt, feeling his pocket vibrate. His grubby hands fumble his phone out of his overalls. “Trott, mate. What’s up?”
Trott’s voice is tired. “You need to come meet me down at medical.”
“Medical? Why, did something happen?” Ross rolls out from under the plane, heart thudding in his chest.
“Smith got in a fight again.”
CW: Minor Injuries, Fighting/Bullying, mentions of homophobia. Bruises, hurtcomfort If I need to tag anything else, let me know.
Random ideas/headcanons that won’t get fics anytime soon. If anyone wants to add on/chime in/create something, feel free.
In Geology class, my prof talked about salt flats and mentioned racing, and also there’s a guy who sits in front of me who’s over six foot, with mid-length brown-blonde hair that sort of curls at the nape and looks really lustrous because he always runs his fingers through it all the time.
So. You know. Here’s a 70s Racing AU.
cw: post war. mentions of sex, death, mental health issues, reckless driving, homophobia.
If I need to tag something, let me know.