Simmons, Jemma

"It's the perfect opportunity for us to see the world -- -- we'd be fools to pass this one up!"

[nomooseandsquirrel]

(( PSA ))

I swear I’m still around! I am chasing a VERY IMPORTANT DEADLINE, which means I go to work in the AM, then come home to work another 10+ hours.

(It also means I’m making extremely questionable Netflix choices as I work. I’m probably going to hell for some of the things I’ve added to my queue.)

So just an FYI, I’ve in no way abandoned Jems or anyone — I just need til the 20th, and then I’ll be logging in again. In the meantime, please pray for my immortal soul. Netflix is an unforgiving mistress.

[littlescienceybits]

Nonsexual acts of Intimacy - Select from the following for my muse to respond to...

♔ : Finding your muse wearing their clothes

♕: Holding hands

♖: Having their hair washed by your muse

♗: Your muse falling asleep with their head in my muse's lap.

♘: Cuddling in a blanket fort

♙: Sharing a bed

♚: Head scratches

♛: Sharing a dessert

♜: Shoulder rubs

♝: Reading a book together

♞: Caring for each other while ill (specify which party is which)

♟: Patching up a wound

♤: Taking a bath together

♧: Your muse playing with their hair

♡: Accidentally falling asleep together

♢: Forehead or cheek kisses

♠: Your muse adjusting their jewelry/neck tie/ etc.

♣: Back scratches

♥: Your muse crying about something

♦: Slow dancing

[littlescienceybits]

// Opens, for the record. Jems is slow during hiatus, it seems.

[agentverbivore]

I said there would come a moment when we would regret the decision to go into the field.

[n-haught]

we have kept a light on through the trouble, treaded water in a sea of tears

[red-hood]

[aoscastdaily]

[onlytryingtohelp-archive]

“Strong women need not declare they can carry all the burdens in life. They just quietly do it and survive with a smile.” ― Princess Maleiha Bajunaid Candao.

(Inspired by x)

[fitzmonkeys]

five things you know and the one thing you don’t 

[fyeahfitzsimmons]

[elizhenstridg]

[aoscastdaily]

[morseisms-archive-blog]

    There’s warmth in the brief touch they share. Bobbi returns to sit upright     beside her companion, the lap her feet had occupied now carrying a box     of  chocolate soon  offered up  to take  from. A  few are  scooped  out —     there’s no  chocolate left in  the draw, so  Bobbi  figures  she’ll  stay  her     addiction  for   Jemma’s  sake.   Next  time  they’re  out,   she’ll  have  to      remember to go  on a junk food run. Tripp would  appreciate some chips.     She hums her  assent around  one a mouthful. This  is as close to war as     any  of  them have  gotten (and hopefully will get). Worse  still  that  it’s a     secret  one,   a   battle  between   two   traitorous   organisations   in  the     government’s  eyes. Fighting for  a cause few people  believe in in a way     few would condone      “Particularly  when  your  fellow  soldiers  are turncoats,” she  muses, but      knows that’s the least of it. The team still mourns for their early, ignorant      days, she understands. A slight change of topic is in order, lest they      wallow forever.     “What’ll you do, when it is? Stay with SHIELD if it exists?”

[littlescienceybits]

     "I've got a choice?" Jemma muses. It's sarcastic, but mild, and her content smile softens it further.

     "I can't actually imagine myself wanting to be somewhere else." That's an easy admission, though the wording isn't quite accurate. If Fitz were to go... But then, there were other considerations. She hums a thoughtful, hopeful noise before the timer disrupts her. Flicking a Bunsen burner on, she resets the device for another span of time.

She isn't sure what she wants out of life, but she knows what her parents have always hoped for her: a family. A home. And while she's got her faith in science held too tightly in both fists right now to even consider weighing other options, she knows better than to say never.

Some day, she might want to define herself independent of SHIELD's criteria.

     "Do you think it will ever be safe for any of us? If we were to leave, I mean."

[littlescienceybits]

Little House // Liza & Jemma

[justliza-archive]

Liza was grateful for the small change in Agent Simmons’ expression, the kind smile making her relax slightly and offer a faint one of her own. She figured the others were elsewhere, though the gloom still hung in the air no matter how big the secret headquarters really was.  "Ah, gotcha." She nodded as means of saying she understood, though the circumstances of it all were still a mystery to her. But Liza knew it wasn’t her place to ask, and from the gravity of Simmons’ tone, it was likely something the other woman didn’t want to talk about most likely. She gave a genuine smile at the prospect of her own room in this space— she’d still keep her own apartment of course, and would stay there on off weekends or when time allowed, but to be able to have a space for herself? It was a small thing but it made Liza feel surprisingly more welcome.  And the prospect of sharing a good cup of tea with Simmons was even better. "I’d like that very much, Agent Simmons. Thank you… for all of this. I know you didn’t have to, but it’s all deeply appreciated." Liza said, throwing a glance at the other woman and smiling as they moved down the hall. "I’ll do my best to put the pieces together, but thanks again. It’s… a little strange. Coming into a place, basically butting myself into the team. The last thing I want to do is disturb anything here."

[littlescienceybits]

Jemma spares a rare laugh, just a huff of sound at the woman's cautions.

"All we've had are people butting onto this team," she informs her, kindness still sitting at the corners of her mouth. "Some of them more delicately than others, but people have come and gone for a few months now."

Some permanently, she thinks, he mouth tightening again. The worst part of war is not knowing what would have been in its place.

She stops by the room, a sliding door flush-set against the wall its only entrance, and nods at the scanner.

"You'll find a temporary lanyard in your pack. It's a long story, but you'll need to jump through some hoops for full access." She doesn't say that she thinks Koenig's setup is useless after Ward. It certainly doesn't help her sleep any better at night, knowing everyone on base has 'clearance.'

"You can store your things if you'd like, I'll be just there--" The alcove she points to leads to a small meeting room, mercifully equipped with a kettle. "You can meet me when you're settled. There's not much around here that a cup of tea can put to rights, I'm afraid, but it hasn't stopped me from trying."

[littlescienceybits]

How We Feel is Hard to Fake // Clint & Jemma

[hiraethicheart]

Clint doesn’t confirm the suspicion with words, though he knows well enough that the grunt half hidden behind the soda can is far more than enough for a solid yes. The fact is, he has a lanyard and everything, though said supposed ‘necessity’ is coiled in his back pocket.

But he knows what hours and hours and hours of sequestering yourself away do and between them both he supposes he is the lucky one here.

He can come and go.

(Part of him tries to remember that that is a privilege these days. Even if coming and going is in part an exercise in stealth.)

"Not this time," he says. It wasn’t something he could promise, an appearance by Natasha. But he couldn’t not promise it either, he reasoned.

Belatedly he realizes Bobbi’s presence is supposed to be news to him.

"So Morse is here, huh?" The name is at least comfortable on his tongue. "Used to run ops with her, back…" A hand waves, not ready to say ‘back in the day.’ "Had this one job in Italy where we ended up havin’ a high speed chase on these blimps, right? I mean, wasn’t really high speed but anyway, if you haven’t seen her take out an aircraft on her own yet you’re missin’ out.”

[littlescienceybits]

The half-promise that meeting Natasha wasn't out of the question is equal parts thrilling and terrifying. If half the stories about the woman are true...

But these are dark times. Jemma can see how some decisions would lie in moral shadow. She's just glad that there are people equipped to make those decisions, because they still keep her up at night.

She doesn't know how Coulson does it.

Used to heavy thoughts now, she listens to Clint's story, a polite smile slowly curving her lips. It does sound like Bobbi, and it's refreshing to hear a story that doesn't include Hunter's ex-wife bias. Even so, her consonants are crisp in the cold room when she disagrees.

"Believe me when I say I have definitely made full benefit of Agent Morse's extreme competence."

The double entendre doesn't even register for her; she truly cannot fathom a more impressive feat than snatching her from HYDRA's clutches alive. The day she stops being impressed (and so, so grateful) will be the day she stops breathing.

[littlescienceybits]

(( Slow week, apologies! I've got a tonne of shit to finish up in RL and plans tonight. Replies soon, xx ))

[morseisms-archive-blog]

          “Not since Monday, actually.”            She hasn’t been immune to the grateful looks Jemma is still throwing            her way; it’s endearing, even if  she’s not the type  to  expect  thanks.            The mission was for far more than just her safety, but god, she’s glad            every time she sees the woman’s face that everything worked out for            the both of them.            Bobbi ducks her head  at the observations  made of  Nat and Clint —            her  laugh is  sudden and  short, surprising  in  its  loudness. Both  of            them are  well aware of the things whispered  about their relationship.            Even to Bobbi, who knows them both so well, there  is an element of            mystery  to  the  connection  they  share. It’s  incredible that, despite            the ego  the size of a  continent Clint possesses, he doesn’t  actually            get a  kick out  of it - weird mix  of humble and  egotistical  that he is.              ”Yeah, regular old rock stars those two are.”            And  she  misses  them. Clint’s  been  drifting,  off  the grid and then            back  on  it  unhappily   for  the  last  few  years,  and  Natasha,  she            assumes, has  disappeared  to  find  some  more  names  for herself            now  that  she’s  given them  all up. They  could  help turn the tables            right now, but it’s asking too much with things as they are. 

[littlescienceybits]

The sound of laughter is so foreign and so welcome, and it doesn't take long for it to bring a smile to Jemma's face.

     "They are, aren't they?"

Her nose wrinkles with pleasure, the lightness of the moment like a balm after everything they've been through. It's not much -- but it's something.

     "But I quite think we've earnt rock star status lately, ourselves."

She raises an eyebrow at Bobbi, tired but proud of even their very small successes. Their failures cast a large shadow, but she knows they're doing what they can with what they have. So she crunches another Malteser in small celebration, her eyelids finally beginning to droop when her timer goes off.

     "--Damn."

The solution is quickly stained and mounted, and a quick peek down the microscope tells her exactly what she expected.

               N o t h i n g .

     "And here I thought the 16th time was the charm," she jokes weakly, sighing. "I'll probably just pull a bedroll down here so that I can wake up with the next cycle." Her smile is defeated, but she flashes it to show she's fine. She will get it. She always does.