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decaying-opossum · 10 days

Text

| tyler owens x reader x scott |

|unofficial part 1/?| |word count: 1418|

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

Their eyes widened in awe as they stood ankle-deep in the rapidly rising floodwater, completely captivated by the ominous view of the dark, turbulent sky above. Despite the urgent cries of a desperate voice calling out their name, they couldn't tear their gaze away from the raging storm brewing over the churning sea. The immense power of nature seemed to hold them in a trance, even as the water threatened to pull them farther from the safety of the shore.

the storm, with its relentless fury, appeared simultaneously terrifying and breathtaking, like a vengeful goddess unleashing her wrath upon the earth. It was a sight to behold as it ripped trees from the ground and transformed solid ground into a turbulent sea, claiming it as her own domain. Only the gasp of surprise as they were abruptly pulled back brought them out of their reverie, their father swiftly scooping them up and rushing them away from the water's edge and back toward the road.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

the motel bed creaked, old metal frame whining under the weight that shifted on it "scott...scotty..baby wake up!" they shook the man, who shifted, giving them a half asleep look of annoyance "stop it, go back to sleep" he dismissed them rolling over "come on" they whined back putting their face against his neck "it's 6:15! let's go find some storms to chase!"

"we don't leave until 8. go back to sleep"

they huffed, flopping back next to him "ya know tornadoes don't have office hours" "yeah well storm par does, now at least be quiet so i can sleep" they sighed, knowing not to push him anymore, especially in his sleepy state.

"i'm sorry, 'm just excited..it's gonna be so fun, my first official chase!" they gushed, sitting up again "it's not fun, it's work, you have to stay focused today. you don't have a hall pass to be stupid and reckless just because we're engaged. on company time you're a stormPar employee first and foremost"

their shoulders drop at that "..i didn't expect special treatment.." a lie, of course they had expected a little special treatment, they were engaged and scott was the only reason they had even met the 'qualifications' for storm par, having helped them go to school just so they could work with him instead of staying at 'home' working a shitty job and waiting for the season to end for him to come back home.

deep down they were nervous to work along side him, nervous of his expectations. he was harsh, they had seen it the few times they visited him at work, something that ever so often made them question their relationship was the way he treated others, he was so degrading to the stormPar crew. but at the same time they all just took it, the storm par team stayed the same, so perhaps what they've seen was just bad days. they hoped they were.

"well boss, what're we doing today?" they said getting off the bed and beginning to get dressed despite scott attempting to coax them back to bed. he sighed their name, shoving his face further into the pillow "..we gotta get some kinda data for riggs, so probably find a storm" "don't get sarcastic, im excited" they sat on the edge of the bed, almost sitting on his long legs "i know you're sleepy but show me a lil more excitement please..we've been working so hard for today"

their words finally made him melt enough to roll over on his back and look up at them "god you're pathetic, come here" he said at their hurt puppy look, tugging them to lay on his chest "..javi convinced his little girlfriend from new york to come out, so your first day unfortunately probably won't be great" they slumped at that, face falling at his negativity "but...there is supposed to be some interesting systems rolling in west of here, you'll see a tornado eventually...get you're little adrenaline junky rush you want so bad"

his reassurance made them giggle, pecking his lips before resting their head down on his chest "..i guess a lil more sleep won't hurt.." they mumbled with a small smile as scott wrapped his arms around them.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

the small truck stop was rowdy, full of people rushing about in cheap rain ponchos, some drinking despite the earliness of the morning, music played from various cars making it all a little overwhelming "god damnit.." scott sighed at the sight as they walked down towards the storm par vehicles "what is all this?" they asked, confused at the state of once empty lot, yesterday when they arrived the truck stop was creepily empty and not even 12 hours later it was packed.

"it's nothing, just ignore it" he took their wrist and tugged them alone "don't seem like nothing..seems like a party.." "it's a circus of idiots, ignore them" they silence nodded, pulling back their arm back so scott was holding their hand instead.

it wasn't too complicated once scott went over all the equipment, they weren't entirely sure why they even needed a degree when the computers did everything but they wouldn't tell that to scott, simply nodding along as he showed them everything.

"..are you even listening to me?" scott's annoyed tone brought them out of their thoughts "no..i'm sorry, you're just so handsome in uniform" they smiled but it didn't waver his annoyance "i meant what i said, no special treatment" his finger in their face like a scolding parent "my expectations for you are higher then anyone else because i know what you can do" they looked down and nodded "alright, alright, sorry"

his hand briefly landed on their shoulder and giving a light squeeze, it was a subtle gesture of an apology and an i love you while he maintained his professional persona "there's javi" he sighed as javi got out of his truck with a blonde woman, javi calling everyone to huddle up and introducing her to the group and vice versa, giving the crews colleges rather then names. they awkwardly stood off behind scott, offering a tight smile to the woman, kate, as javi had introduced "only the best" javi grinned after kate dryly joked about it being the whole alphabet.

"except for scott, my partner here, he went to MIT instead of muskogee state, but uh he makes for it with his beautiful amazing personality" javi joked shaking scott's shoulder slight, they peaked around scott's shoulder as scott gave a sarcastic smile.

"well kate's only giving us a week, but while we have her ooh it's gonna be the wildest tornado you've ever seen, fellas" javi said causing the crew to laugh in anticipation "this is gonna be so fun" they muttered lowly to scott, rubbing his back "don't get your hopes up..everyone with a ten dollar weather app knows it, we gotta stay ahead of this circus" they followed his gaze to the large crowd they had questioned him about earlier "don't be mean" they tapped his back in a scold.

over the commotion of the crowd, one source of music seemed to be getting louder, closer, and people started moving towards where it was coming from in excitement. a red dually leading a van and RV, horn blaring over the music the RV played.

hm, that truck looks familiar..

"hey, stormPar! we're live on youtube, say something!" oh god "blow me boone!" scott put a hand up to hush the guy from acting up in front of the camera "don't engage. don't engage" their heart felt like it was simultaneously in their feet, gut and throat all at once as they spun around to face away, a quiet prayer that they wouldn't be recognized; a hope that by some miracle their entire being would morph into someone else.

"hey, smile, man, science is fun right?" they wanted to vanish. needed too. their face burned with embarrassment, and shame almost, as they tried to think of how to wiggle their self from having to explain some loop of excuses as reasons, or even just having to have awkward small talk with tyler like they hadn't completely ghosted the poor guy 6 years ago "who are they?" "chasers out of arkansas" "hillbillies with a youtube channel"

"scott- i gotta uh use the bathroom- imma be back.." they tapped on his arm "..you alright?" he glanced back at them, an eyebrow peaking out from his sunglasses " 'm perfect..find us a good storm for my first official chase" they gave a tight smile before jogging off.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

{idk, this is kinda short. i was gonna write a little more on here but i’m completely stumped on what to do with them meeting tyler, so i’m hoping having if be a separate part will help, or who knows, i might even rewrite this whole thing since i’m not sure how i feel abt it. feedback would rlly appreciated it’s been forever since i’ve actually wrote something}

#twisters scott x reader #tyler owens x reader #twisters x reader #twisters scott #twisters 2024 #tyler owens #i feel like a wrote scott too mean to the reader 😭#i hope i didn’t #i’m just not used to writing anymore 😔

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twiixr4kidz · 2 years

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Hi again!!! S000 can I have a Scott + Evil exes taking care of u when ur sick head cannons (there like ur bf/gf) Thankies -💀🎀

yeah ofc!!

scott pilgrim + the evil exes taking care of their sick partner!!

scott pilgrim

he doesn't know what he's supposed to do tbh

like you tell him you're sick and he's like "uh..."

he suggests that you do what HE does

just get your favorite takeout, get some cold medicine, and take a nap

he doesn't mind waiting on you though

if you need something, he'll get it for you, no problem

matthew patel

he's almost overbearing but in a sweet way

he finds out that you're sick and he shows up at your door with an armful of medicine and things that will (hopefully) make you feel better

if you have a headache, he's gonna get you some tylenol and a cold cloth, if you feel like you're going to throw up he's got a bucket ready, he is literally going to do it all

he gets you a cup of hot tea and insists you drink it and get some sleep

and when you wake up, he's made you an indian dish, one of his mom's dishes, that's supposed to make you feel better

and even if it doesn't it tastes absolutely delicious and it was made with love, so you can't complain

lucas lee

he would straight up take a day off of his movies to stay home with you and nurse you back to health

he insists you don't move from your bed like at all, unless you have to use the bathroom

he literally hates being sick so he feels really bad for you

the only thing is, he doesn't really know what to do to help??

so it ends up turning into a really relaxed movie day, with him laying in bed with you and you getting him sick (oopsies)

he totally asked for it though

todd ingram

you tell him he's sick and he immediately asks what you need

similarly to everyone else, he's gonna do a lot to take care of you

but he also insists that you get just a little fresh air

he helps (pulls) you out of bed and leads (drags) you to the front door

if you're feeling okay enough, he'll take a short walk with you just to get you feeling even better

roxie richter

at first, she's like a teeniest bit hesitant because she's prone to getting sick

but when she sees you, suffering and sniffling in bed, she feels a lot of pity for you

she tells you to stay there, and she will yell at you (not seriously though) if you even try to move

but she's also going to try to keep her distance a little bit :(

she's gonna miss cuddling with you, but she has a really solid reasoning so you can't really blame her

kyle katayanagi

he doesn't really get sick, just hungover LMFAO

so at first, he thinks you got hella drunk the night before and then you have to explain to him that no, you did not get drunk at all, you woke up feeling sick

he offers you a lot of water and some painkillers and tells you to just lay there for a little while

he's probably gonna come back with mcdonalds or something

buying you fast food is his love language

ken katayanagi

"i told you that was gonna happen" he says, dramatically rolling his eyes

okay sure. he did tell you. maybe you ignored him. maybe you went outside in the cold for an event that lasted a few hours. maybe you shouldn't have done that.

he scolds you the entire time

even so, he tries to make you as comfy as he can, supplying you with whatever medicine and blankets you need

gideon graves

he's somewhat reluctant to take care of you because he doesn't want to get sick - he insists that sickness hinders his epic producer ability

he's joking (he likes being an asshole on purpose)

he only lets you eat light foods because he doesn't want you to throw up, so have fun eating just buttered toast, apple sauce, and soup

he keeps you either in bed or laying on the couch

he is very very insistent that he doesn't want you moving at all

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eggcompany · 5 months

Text

Dumb Dog Part 2

Stiles shoved the fleshlight between his thighs. He didn’t even bother taking his sweatpants off. Derek was panting against his neck, squeezing the younger man tightly.

It was a usual thing now. Derek got hurt, ended up at the Stilinski residence, with his dick hard and needy, and Stiles there to calm him down. It only took one chaffy experience for Stiles to order a fleshlight online, it was a simple clear silicone, easy to clean.

This day Derek got ‘ hurt’ by cutting his hand while teaching something to Scott. The cut was deep, sure, but it wasn’t something that wouldn’t heal in an hour. Derek had met Stiles at his front door, knowing the sheriff was away, with puppy eyes and a bandage wrapped hand. Stiles just rolled his eyes and tried not to think too hard about the way Derek looked a little too chipper as he ran up the stairs.

“I wanna mate you” Derek begged into the back of Stiles' neck, his hips grinding into the back of Stiles' thighs. Stiles would have never guessed it but Derek talked a lot when they did this. Whatever this was. He also figured that when werewolves get hurt their heads get kinda funny, add in addition to a boner and a warm body… Derek got all colors of loose lipped and stupid. He once asked Stiles if Stiles could come over.

“I know, come on” Stiles said and guided Derek’s hard cock from where it was rubbing against Stiles' back. Stiles made sure he was lined up correctly before pulling his hand away. Derek moaned out, short and deep, as he slid into the warmed silicone channel. He hummed happily, hands finding Stiles' own, squeezing it in thanks. Stiles usually made sure to use warm water when washing the toy before using it, holding the lube in his hand long enough so it was warm. Derek hissed and whined when the toy was cold. Spoiled. Stiles had to shake his head. He spoiled Derek to warm fleshlights and easy orgasms. While they held hands. That was crazy to even think.

This was a regular just friends thing. Nothing more.

Derek was huffing, fucking roughing into the toy, completely unaware of Stiles' never ending inner crisis. His breath was hot and wet against the back of Stiles' neck, hands locking together. The bed was rocking with Derek’s rough thrusts, it was almost enough to distract Stiles from his own aching cock.

Derek always helped finish him off, big rough hands pulling him to orgasm with a quiet little thanks before he was sleeping, needing a nap. Stiles reached down to palm himself, giving himself a squeeze, biting his bottom lip at the feeling. It was a small relief as Derek kept on fucking the toy, arms squeezing, pulling their bodies together ever tighter.

“I’m gonna cum. Wish it was Stiles. I want Stiles. I like Stiles.” Derek slurred out as his rhythm fell away to manically chase his own release. His fingers dug into Stiles’ sides, leaving small bruises in their wake. Stiles’ breath caught, body rocking roughly as Derek gets closer and closer.

“You do?” The younger asked as Derek started letting out high pitched whines, he nodded his head, nose dragging up and down. Stiles knew by now that those noises meant the wolf was close. When Derek let out one short loud cry and stopped pulling back, he cuddled closer, mumbling against the boy’s neck as his orgasm ripped through him.

“I can hear him when he jerks off if I stand outside under his window. He makes good noises. And he smells good after. He washes his hands but the smell… It sticks to him.” Derek explained in a dreamy way. Stiles shoved his hand under his waistband, shoving it down, getting a hand around himself, quickly giving himself a few tight strokes.

“Oh?” Stiles asked, trying to get more of those dirty words from Derek. The wolf nodded and nuzzled into the soft hair at the base of Stiles’ head.

“I wanna mate with him. I wanna suck him off. I know he tastes good, I know it. I want him so bad.” Derek said like it was a dream he’d never achieve, begging.

Stiles’ hand moved quickly on himself, his mind suddenly flooded with images of Derek on his knees, soft lips wrapped around Stiles’ cock, eyes all blown and big as they stared up, full of want, silently begging Stiles to cum down his throat. Stiles had to focus to get his eyes back from where they rolled back. The images flashing through his head were unfair .

“Why don’t you ask him?” The younger asked through gritted teeth as his hand flew over his cock, Derek’s hips gave a weak twitch, cock still trapped in the soaked toy. He let out a sad noise, something squeaky and breathy.

“Because he’s not mine. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t- I love Stiles. I don't wanna be bad for him. Only one in my whole pack that cares about me.” Derek said sadly, reached down, following Stiles’ arms until he was the one jerking the boy off. Stiles came with a groan, wishing Derek would make his fist a little tighter, but enjoying the rough palms.

After a minute or two and Stiles had his brain back, he grabbed some tissues from his bedside and wiped them both down. He was careful not to move too much, Derek was in his weird smushy headspace, so he just carefully set the toy beside the bed, making sure to keep it up and not let any of the lube and cum spill onto his carpet. He had to reach over his own hip to clean Derek up, causing the wolf to whimper.

He let Derek spoon him, a rumbling occasionally floating from the wolf’s chest, as he cleaned himself up. Stiles was tossing the soiled tissues away when Derek’s words finally caught up with his brain.

“Your pack loves you, Derek. We- They all care about you. Why wouldn’t w-they?” Stiles asked, trying to keep his words straight. Derek huffed and shook his head, arms contracting a bit around Stiles, just a little squeeze.

“I try to protect them and keep them happy and warm and fed but they don’t care about me. They won’t feed me or rub on me or even touch me. Stiles won’t. He’s a human, only way he can bond with me as pack leader is to mate with me. He won’t. I’m too big.” Derek said sadly, hid his face deeper into Stiles’ shoulder. His voice was rough, like each word was being forced out. It was sad.

Stiles thought about it. No one touched Derek, bumping shoulders with him or hugging him or smacking his arm. Except Stiles. No one really did anything for Derek, they just got things from him. They were taught by him, learned about poisons and cures, learned about their powers and strengths. No one ever really gave anything back though. Few thanks, no gifts, no shows of affection, of pack bonding with Derek. They all talked to each other and touched each other, no one did that to Derek.

Stiles felt guilty at that moment. Even though he wasn’t really a part of the pack, he should have seen it earlier.

“Do you want Stiles to be a part of your pack?” Stiles asked quietly, mind trying to make a plan on how to get everyone to be nicer to Derek. It was the grumbled response that had him reeling though, sending his mind into a spiral.

“Yeah… yeah he’d be special. Like my alpha.” Derek grumbled before falling into the arms of sleep. Stiles was left blinking into the darkness of his room. What ?

He tries to lay out what he knows. Derek likes him. Derek wants him. Derek listens to him jerk off, weird but way too hot to care. And Derek wants to fuck him. Okay.

Derek wants him to be his alpha. The alpha’s alpha? But Stiles isn’t even a werewolf. It makes his head spin, trying to figure out what that meant.

He stayed awake trying to figure it out until Derek eventually got up, being deathly quiet as he left. The rumble of the camaro was the only signal Stiles got that Derek had left the house.

Stiles went to bed way too late after falling down the rabbit hole of online articles about anal sex and gay porn. He woke up with wet boxers, but no one needed to know that.

~~~~~

“Derek, I read that if you’re born as a werewolf it affects your body. Changes your body physically, gives you different organs and glands and such.” Stiles said one afternoon as he sat on a blanket just outside of the Hale House. They all had been meeting up, pack meetings, now with Issac and occasionally Boyd.

Stiles had gotten there first, setting out the picnic blanket, deciding it would be a good day to be outside. He had a book open on his lap, backpack open next to him. Derek walked out of the front door, moving to stand on the porch, glaring down at the younger man.

“Are you asking about tails again? I swear to god Stiles, I will hurt you.” He growled, anger pitching his eyes a red color for a split second. Stiles shook his head, waving his hand in the air.

“I’ve gotten over the tails. I read omegas are born with certain brain hormones that change how they feel about people. And certain changes physically. That werewolves’s bodies can be physically different from their wolf.” He explained, eyes unable to meet Derek’s own. He’d barely figured out the whole ‘inner wolf’ identity thing. The wolf huffed and hopped down, walking to lean against a tree across from Stiles.

“… yeah. Omegas develop differently than Alphas in the womb. Betas develop like a regular werewolf. As we age our wolf develops and changes with our status.” Derek explained and crossed his arms, face in the sun, enjoying the warmth. Stiles couldn’t help but look at the way the light caught on his cheekbones, the way his arm muscles bulged under the thin material of his navy long sleeve.

“What were you born as? Since you changed from beta to alpha.” Stiles asked when Derek blinked his eyes back open. Derek swallowed and kept his eyes on the old house, away from Stiles.

“I was born omega.” He answered and remembered before he got bumped to beta. It was… a hard time.

“And?” Stiles asked and Derek shrugged, trying to act like it didn’t bring back memories.

“And my body developed omega but my wolf is alpha. Have you been talking to Issac?” Derek asked back, looking at the other. Issac was more chatty, learning more about himself, his status, about how he felt as omega. Stiles smirked.

“Yep. He’s an omega and he told me all about it. Only took one wolfsbane beer and some heavy petting. I assume you don’t go into heat since you’re an alpha and you don’t submit but-” Stiles explained as a slight blush found its way to his face at the memory of Issac being in his lap, shirtless, panting against his neck as he ran his hands across the blonde’s body. He was still speaking when Derek cut him off.

“You’d be wrong.” The older boy said and looked at Stiles, hoping that the nervous feeling that was churning in his gut wasn’t showing in his eyes. Stiles stopped and cocked his head to the side, eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“What?” Stiles asked, trying to rewind and rethink what he’d just been told. Derek kept his eyes on the younger man, seeing the gears turning behind his eyes.

“If you assume that, you’d be wrong.” Derek stated and smirked and walked over to the driveway, looking down it. He could faintly hear the sound of Scott’s bike and someone’s car. He also took the moment to take a few deep breaths, knowing the human couldn’t hear them.

Stiles was malfunctioning, mind going a million miles a minute. Derek has heats? Derek submits ? How?Is it the same as what Issac described? Horny and hungry and desperate to give into all the desires that would normally be easy to suppress. Stiles then had a heatwave pass through him as his mind filled with the images of Derek desperate and pleading, clawing and begging, soaked and sweet. He had to hit himself in the head to make it stop enough to ask another question.

“You heat? When? We see you every week, Issac said that when it happens to him he has to stay away from everyone.” Stiles asked, needing to know what it was for Derek.

Did he heat but was it an emotional thing? Did he want to? Did he have to? Did he suppress it? How’d he hide it from everyone else? Why was he telling Stiles of all people?

“I’m alpha. I don’t get the same heat as an omega. I don’t need a manic orgy to feel calm. Why do you think we have pack sleepovers?” Derek teased as he heard the vehicles come closer and closer. He looked over at Stiles, seeing process it all, mouth open, surprised. Stiles finally looked up at the older boy, lust scenting off him lightly.

“Oh… do you not get um… how Issac gets?” Stiles asked, blush heavy on his cheeks. Derek smirked and walked up to watch Scott come through the trees.

“If you’re asking if I get wet then I guess you’ll never know.” The wolf answered before giving a small wave to Scott who was parking. Leaving Stiles with a head full of Derek wet .

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#egg_company #fanfic #smut tag #fanfiction #derek x stiles #derek hale #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #teen wolf stiles #stiles stilinski #sterek smut #sterek fanfiction #sterek fanfic #sterek #stiles x derek #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf

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scribbling-dragon · 10 months

Text

don't turn out the lights (kiss yourself goodnight)

summary:

“Hi,” Martyn continues to grin, even as it turns awkward and even guiltier. “I'm coming over. Can I come over?” Martyn pauses on the bridge then, as though just realising his presence might be unwanted after ditching him all morning. “I don't know if I should let you,” he says. It’s not an answer either way.

(ao3 link)

(7,119 words)

[hi! talking in bold so this catches your eyes ooOOooo anyway! this is the FINAL PART of this series! it's done! this is the end! meaning, everyone dies in this fic. there's your warning! there's gonna be death, injury, blood, etc. all the fun stuff! so just keep that in mind when you read it. also! it'd be really nice if you could reblog this because it took me a long time and i put a buncha effort into it! comments in the tags are even cuter- they let me know you liked it! i write for fun but i post because i want other people to also enjoy what i make, letting me know that you did quite literally makes my day.

anyway! hope u enjoy! <33]

The Isles is almost eerily quiet.

It is expected. The losses they had experienced only a day prior are enough to stun even the loudest of people into silence. It seems their world is only mirroring their mourning, not even birds singing to greet the dawn. Instead, it leaves everyone to prepare for their day, silence permeating the air around them. Even the sun appears muted, watery, as it tiredly heaves itself over the edge of the water, already beginning to chase away the deep purples of night.

He doubts any of them will be around to see another miserable sunrise such as this one.

Scott runs a cloth over the dull edge of his sword, wiping the dried blood away as best as he can manage with only a scrap of damp fabric. It’s already stained red, beyond any kind of repair. The dried blood remains stubborn, clinging to his blade as the last few echoes of others’ lives.

It flakes away as he scrapes against it with a single, sharp nail. The dried blood of friend and foe alike clumps together as it gathers beneath his nail, forcing him to stop his task and pick it out once he can no longer stand the feeling of it. He flicks it to the ground beneath him, hoping the flecks of red will become lost amongst the yellowing grass he sits upon. He still finds his eyes picking it out, like berries nestled amongst the dry stalks of grass that are determined to catch his eyes whenever he glances over.

He pauses at the sound of creaking floorboards above him, a few grains of sand pattering down onto his head. He cocks his head to the side and listens a little more intently as more creaking follows. Martyn had still been sleeping when he got up, curled comfortably in their shared bed. Scott had been tempted to stay and enjoy the peace a little longer, but his own mind was restless.

He hadn’t wanted to disturb the last few peaceful moments Martyn would probably get before this is all over, rising and attending to small tasks that didn’t really need to be done; tasks that were there to busy the hands rather than be productive. He doesn’t have that sort of time to waste, still target number one, certainly, his clock ticking down from higher numbers than everyone else, but his time is as limited as the rest of them.

His sword had been cleaned and sharpened. The blade, previously coated in dried blood so thick you could barely see its shimmer now gleams in the rapidly strengthening sunlight.

The purple hue of the skyline has been almost completely wiped away, leaving a pink sky in its wake. The light of it dyes the ocean a deep red, churning against the edges of their island as though it can hardly wait to devour it all once they're gone.

He continues to listen as footsteps echo overhead, uninterested in continuing to prepare for murdering his friends, waiting for Martyn to poke his head through the doorway and begin chattering away. He’s always more talkative in the morning, as though he has to make up for not speaking all night.

He looks over at the sound of a quiet splash, sitting up and sword forgotten as he stands a moment later. He pokes his head out of their storage room, watching as Martyn swims away from their island and towards the mainland. He dips beneath the waves a few times, swimming quickly.

Scott lingers in the doorway, watching as Martyn emerges onto the sandy shoreline, not even bothering to rid himself of the water he’d collected on his trip over as he usually would. Instead, he looks around, searching for…something. Scott isn’t certain what it is that he’s searching for – they hadn’t even had a conversation yet that morning to go over what should be done, who to avoid, who to target – and apparently not find it as he trudges into the treeline, quickly disappearing into the murky darkness that seems to cling to any dark oak forest, still soaking wet from his short swim.

Scott withdraws into their storage room, confused and more than a little hurt. His mind races a mile a minute, barely giving him a moment to process anything before he’s thinking of another potential explanation. Did they have a conversation last night that indicated Martyn was going to do something like this? Did Martyn assume he had already left and gone searching for him?

Only, Martyn had swum over there like a man possessed, like he would die if he didn’t reach the shoreline as quickly as he did. And yet – and yet – the moment he reached his destination he had looked around, as though uncertain of where to go.

Scott likes to think that he can read Martyn quite well, after the multiple times they’ve gone through these games together, and also the time they’ve spent together on this very island. He likes to think he can read Martyn well. And the way Martyn had looked around, on that shoreline, had not been with the intent of finding something lost, it had been done with the confusion of someone that had walked into a room and forgotten what they were going to do.

But, there’s no point in catching up with him yet. No reason to dive after him and catch up; see if he can shake any answers loose from the man. Not when he still has arrows to make and a bow to restring.

They can talk later. It’s fine. It’ll be fine.

=== === ===

“Now, I'm not a professional,” he tells Cleo, hopping down a few more blocks and squeezing into the gap he’d left for himself. There’s no redstone involved in this, only the tiny guide in the back of his head that’s jumping between steps as he attempts to remember how to do this, struggling to reconcile the new information he had with the idea that he’d already gotten it right.

He’d done it wrong last time, his hands still stinging from the hot blast that had gotten him before he managed to shove his shield in front of himself, letting that take the brunt of the explosion rather than absorbing it with his face.

“Never said you were,” he feels a shadow fall over him as Cleo leans down to peer at what he’s doing. “Reckon you're gonna blow the both of us up again?”

“I wouldn’t stand so close,” he chuckles, feeling rather than seeing as Cleo steps back. He slowly, carefully, places another bundle of TNT into the minecart, feeling the thing rattle with the weight of how much TNT he’s shoved into it. The sculk clings to his hands as he sets it down onto the block, gripping onto him as he attempts to pull away, unwilling to release him.

He continues pulling his hands back until the sculk accepts its loss, releasing his fingers and withdrawing back to the dirt block he’d provided for it. He watches as it curls itself into the dirt block, then simply engulfs it. He has no better words to describe the way it simply spreads over the block, too fast for him to even track with his eyes, until the entire patch is made of sculk.

He withdraws even more carefully, slowly easing himself out of the hole. He’s aware of the way the dirt clings around his shoulders. One wrong move could set off the trap he’s just spent the better part of ten minutes setting up, and he’d probably be blown to bits alongside it.

Cleo waits until he’s completely free of the hole before continuing to speak. “Where’s your other half today? Didn’t think you came as a single package anymore.”

“Very funny,” he forces a laugh as he turns to glare at them. “I don't know,” he answers. Not at all bitterly. “He ran off this morning before I could even get a chance to speak with him, went off to do…something.”

He sees Cleo frown, eyebrows creasing together. “And you haven’t tried to find him?”

“He needs something, then he’ll find me.” He dismisses Cleo’s worries easily – he’s been dismissing his own all morning, ignoring them in order to actually get anything done. Dismissing Cleo’s probing questions and slightly worried glances is far easier. “He’s been acting all funny recently anyway. If he’s gone off to sort himself out, then that’s fine.”

“Wait, Scott,” Cleo moves around him, pressing their hands down onto the small tunnel entrance and blocking him from poking around in there a little more. He leans back on his heels, knees digging into the ground as he glares up at her. “That’s not at all like Martyn. He sticks around other people as best as he can, even if it means bouncing between several groups. You're telling me he’s disappeared and you're not even worried?”

“Of course I'm worried, Cleo.” He huffs out a breath, resisting for only a moment before he raises his hands to his face, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. It relieves a little of his stress, and also means he doesn’t have to look them in the eye anymore. “But there’s nothing I can do about it, so I just have to wait and sit tight and hope he shows up.”

“You said he was acting weird,” Cleo asks, after the silence has hung between them for a moment. “Weird…how?”

“I don't know,” he sighs, dropping his hands. Cleo stares at him. “Ugh, I guess, like, spacing out? He was acting really weird after, uh, yesterday and the whole,” he waves a hand, “canary business. But I thought that was just the shock of all that, and then all the stuff after that. I didn’t even speak to him this morning, but there was this weird air around him. It was really fucking strange, Cleo, and I don't even know what it means!”

“Yeah, alright, alright,” Cleo hesitates for a moment, before patting him on the shoulder. “I think that’s just how he gets at this point. I think he was like this last time? I’d have to repeat myself several times for literally anything to get through to him.”

“I keep forgetting you were partnered with him last time,” he huffs out a laugh. “So he just gets like this every time? Why doesn’t anyone say anything?” He pauses. “Have you said anything?”

“To Martyn? No.” Cleo glances over at a shout from the Clock Tower, then back at him. “To anyone else? …Also no. I didn’t think it was my place to pry or ask around, and I guess that’s the common sentiment. Maybe he’s done it every single time. Maybe he only started doing it last time. Who knows? Maybe he's just gone insane.”

“Pretty sure that’s Joel you're thinking of,” he jokes, and then regrets when it opens up a pit in his stomach.

“Maybe go find him,” Cleo says. They both ignore the slightly heavier air around both of them, the mention of Joel souring their moods rather quickly.

“Yeah,” he brushes the dirt from his hands. “Yeah, I will.” He stands, eyeing the inconspicuous path ahead of them. “Thanks, Cleo.”

“No problem. Hope you find him.”

So do I, Scott doesn’t say. Hope you're still kicking around when I’ve found him, he keeps to himself too. He knows the Clockers aren’t doing well for time, all of their clocks far lower than his own, even after donating some of his time to Scar earlier.

He can feel Cleo watching him. Maybe they're giving him some of their own well wishes.

=== === ===

Going onto Skynet is never his favourite thing. But he’s been poking around on the ground for long enough that he’s rather certain Martyn isn’t hanging around there. Unless he’s dug himself into a hole underground as it currently hiding there until his clock runs out, he’s not on ground-level.

Meaning, into the skies he goes. The ladder is wonky and the rungs are thin enough that they threaten to snap under every step he takes upwards.

He can feel his hands growing sweaty the higher he ascends, nervousness making him glance down and come to terms with just how high he was in the air. With nothing to support him but a quickly and shoddily built ladder to nowhere.

He hauls himself up onto the main chunk of Skynet, grateful for the ground beneath his feet; solid despite being a thousand feet in the air. A drop from here would definitely kill him. A real risk, he realises, when an arrow thunks into the ground at his feet.

He glances over in the direction where it came from, dropping into a crouch. He’s not certain whether that shot was a mistake or a warning. It could have been fully intended to send him stumbling backwards and over the edge. But another arrow doesn’t follow, leaving him staring across the gap between their bridges, the group of three staring back at him.

…Three?

He can just barely see Etho crouched behind the makeshift wall he’s thrown up, the very tips of fuzzy white ears peeking over the edge of the dirt barricade, and Tango beside him is distinctive with his hair aflame. Meaning, no, his eyes are not deceiving him; Martyn really is crouched over with the other two, watching as they shoot at him.

He straightens up, almost planting his hands on his hips and yelling across the gap then and there. For Martyn to just ditch him earlier, and then for Scott to find him with people that have been relentlessly hunting him? Unacceptable. He only holds his tongue because shouting across such a wide gap is embarrassing, and not at all conducive to a proper conversation.

He stares across the gap a little longer, before holding a hand up in the universal gesture for wait.

He then takes a very brave step away from the main landing pad at the top of the ladder, the bridge narrowing even further and leaving him running quickly across the thin branches of Skynet. He keeps his shield held loosely at his side, and can only pray that Etho and Tango – or, gods forbid, Martyn – decide to get in an easy kill and shoot him.

He gets onto the same bridge as them before they start shooting at him, close enough for Scott to start talking to Martyn, even if it means he has to yell to be heard.

“Etho!” He jerks to the side as an arrow skims past his face, close enough that he can hear it whistle as it passes him. “No need!”

He hears Etho chuckling easily enough, even hunkered down behind his own makeshift shelter, only daring to peek over the edge once a moment has passed and his heart no longer threatens to leap from his chest. Martyn, Etho and Tango all peek back at him, lined up near perfectly. Scott might be tempted to take a photo if he wasn’t so irritated.

Another arrow shoots past his face and he scowls, pulling his own bow out and firing right back at them. He sees Tango jump in place and duck down as the arrow goes right over his head, far too high to actually hit anyone.

Several arrows embed themselves in the front of his small defence within a few minutes, making it easy to reach over and collect them up, adding them to his own quiver. “I've got arrows for days!” he calls over to them, grinning and urging them to continue shooting at him.

He notches another arrow, back pressed against his barricade before popping back up again, aiming and ready to fire.

Martyn visibly startles when he reappears, halfway across the bridge connecting them. He almost falls, Scott thinks, teetering dangerously on the edge as he readjusts his balance, shield held cautiously but not protectively in front of himself.

“Martyn,” he warns, not releasing his arrow but not dropping the bow either. He keeps it carefully trained on Martyn’s face, even as Etho and Tango continue to watch the two of them curiously. Martyn glances upwards from where he’d been watching his feet, smiling guiltily. Good.

“I don't know if I should let you,” he says. It’s not an answer either way. Something that Martyn seems to realise too, as he doesn’t keep moving forward, remaining rooted in place on the stupidly thin bridges that TIES built on a whim and everyone else decided to use. “Why are you with them?” He jerks his bow towards Etho and Tango, taking it off Martyn for a single second.

A single second which is, apparently, long enough for Martyn to run across the rest of the space and drop down beside him, both of them huddled far too close behind this too-small barricade. His knee knocks against Martyn’s, their legs pressing together when he lets them. He’s twisted awkwardly to continue aiming the bow at Etho and Tango, reluctant to take his eye off of them even if Martyn demands his attention with pleading eyes.

“Because I've not seen you yet today,” Martyn’s hand is warm on his arm. Near burning at the point of contact as he pulls at him, urging him to lower his bow. He holds the string of his bow tense for only a moment longer before heaving a great sigh and loosening it gradually, allowing the arrow to fall free from where it had been notched and into his open palm. Martyn continues, seeing him giving in, “I woke up and there was no-one here. There, wherever,” Martyn shrugs. “And then I just…” he trails off, eyes sliding to the side.

The hand on his arm slackens a little, turning from a comforting grip to a weight on his arm. The point of contact no longer burns, his skin warming up and adjusting to the sudden heat of another person.

“And then you just…?” Scott prompts, frowning when Martyn doesn’t give him a response. He’s still watching something off to the side, but when Scott turns to look where he is, there’s nothing there. No person trying to kill them or mysterious floating entity that would cause the kind of look Martyn currently has in his eyes.

“Hey,” he waves a hand in front of Martyn’s face, frowning when that continues to get no response from him. He rests his hand on Martyn’s cheek, growing even more concerned when that fails to get a reaction from him, sliding his thumb along Martyn’s cheekbone. His hand slips lower to cradle Martyn’s face, bringing his other hand to pat him on the cheek, like trying to wake someone up.

Martyn blinks, eyes refocusing, and then jolts. Scott holds onto him, keeping him in place as he regains his bearings from…whatever the hell just happened.

“When’d you get so close?” Martyn asks, clearly going for joking and missing it by miles. He lands somewhere around confused and worried instead, which only concerns Scott more.

Scott pauses for a moment, considering his next step. “Aw,” he tilts his head to the side, thumb still brushing against Martyn’s cheek affectionately. “Don't tell me you got so caught up in seeing me that you forgot to pay attention?”

Martyn laughs, leaning in a little closer, close enough that their noses are just shy of touching. His eyes are completely focused now, not drifting over Scott’s shoulder to look at something only Martyn can see. It eases something in his chest, something he hadn’t realised was so tight until it loosened all of a sudden.

“Well, it really is quite easy to get lost in your eyes. The depths of them are like an unexplored ocean-”

He shoves Martyn away from him with a laugh. “Don't you start with that,” he warns, mock angry as he wags his finger at Martyn. “That’s a terrible pick-up line, and one that doesn’t even work right now! My eyes are as red as they can be, so don't be silly.”

“Then your eyes are like the ocean in the morning,” Martyn counters. “Did you not see how red it was this morning? Like the sunrise itself had spilled into the waters.”

“How romantic of you.” He doesn’t mention how this morning was the only time the waters were dyed such a colour by the rising sun. Martyn wouldn’t know that, as a late riser, but Scott has watched those waters shimmer beneath the sunrise every morning since they were dumped here.

“Get a room!” Etho very bravely yells over at them, still hiding behind his barricade. “We wanna get past you!”

“Run on past then!” Scott yells back. “What’s there to be scared of!”

“What we might see!” Tango contribute, popping up beside his teammate. “I don't know what you two’re doing behind that!”

Scott scoffs in disgust at the idea. Not only is the entire place made of dirt, but they're also miles in the sky. Not exactly something he’d jump at the idea of.

“Go the other way then!” he yells, getting to his feet. He pulls his shield up just in case, but no arrows come his way. He offers Martyn his hand as he watches half of TIES (two-thirds, his brain supplies helpfully. Two-thirds.) deliberate over their next course of action.

“Cowards!” Martyn yells as Etho begins retreating.

Scott laughs at the offended noise Tango makes, loud enough for them both to hear it. Laughing is easier than thinking about what just happened. Easier than turning Cleo’s words over and over in his mind.

Easier to take Martyn’s hand and lead him away as though none of that happened at all.

=== === ===

He can see Etho watching him as he climbs, ears twisted backwards and crossbow held at the ready. He’s just as pleased to be up here as Etho is. All roads lead to Skynet, apparently, meaning he’s back on the hellish thing, praying that nothing breaks.

“We’re just here to talk,” he assures, crouching on the lip of cobblestone just above the ladder, reaching a hand down slowly for Martyn to take. He feels it slot into his hand easily, burning hot against freezing cold.

“Promise?” Etho keeps his crossbow held tightly in his hands. Not that Scott blames them. This is the time for temporary alliances, certainly, but he doubts anyone is above faking a temporary alliance to get closer to someone just to kill them.

“Promise.”

Martyn settles onto the ledge beside him, though Martyn sits down, legs swinging off the edge as he watches Martyn. Scott remains crouched, one hand flat against the cobbles, hunched over like some kind of gargoyle.

He probably looks like one, too. Fish-like spines and fins make it rather hard to hide the changes he’s undergone since going red. The scales layering over his skin and remaining thick until his elbows make it even more so. He can only be glad that he still has his legs, or that It didn’t decide to give him some kind of tail to weigh him down further.

“Okay,” Etho takes a step closer, and, in an incredible show of good faith, tucks his crossbow away so none of them have any weapons. “Let’s talk, then.”

Scott grins, more than a little satisfied with himself. It’s always risky reaching out for another alliance this late in the game, but taking the risk is better than leaving the ending unknown. This is a way for them to have a better shot at winning.

“The biggest hour- time, thingy, is the Nosy Neighbours,” he starts. “Pearl and Grian have the most time right now.”

“And they're a pretty strong team,” Etho glances over in the direction of the Neighbours’ tower, expression considering. “There’s three of them in it.”

Martyn hums something that vaguely sounds like agreement, but when Scott looks over at him, he’s staring off into space again, not at all registering the space around them. Scott shuffles a little closer to him, pressing his hip into his side in the hopes that the contact can bring him back from wherever his mind has wandered off to. Contact has helped, in the previous moments where he’s been like this.

“And we’re two sets of two,” Scott says. He feels momentarily guilty for pointing it out when Etho looks saddened by the reminder that Tango is gone now, too.

“Well,” Etho rocks back on his heels. “I can’t find Impulse at the moment- not a clue where he’s wandered off to.”

Maybe Etho’s words summon him, because Scott watches a blur plummet down onto the Mansion, disappearing under the water for a moment before resurfacing. Even from their distance, he’s able to make out the distinctive yellow ‘i’ on his shirt.

“Grian fell from Skynet,” Martyn says, blinking back to reality.

“Uh, no,” he gives Martyn a confused look from the corner of his eye. “That’s Impulse.”

“I- what?” Martyn glances over at the Mansion, “Oh! Yeah, yeah, that’s Impulse. Yeah.”

Etho gives them a funny look, eyes squinting as he studies Martyn.

“We can summon him over here,” Scott says, distracting Etho before he can ask too many questions. He’d been hanging out with Martyn earlier, could have seen his spacy-ness. Could identify it as something to be used later. Something that Scott would prefer him not to do. “Tell him we have Etho.”

“Like some kind of hostage situation?”

“Ooh, yeah,” Martyn nods along with Etho’s suggestion. “Let’s take him hostage.”

“Or we can just go down and meet him?” Etho suggests. He doesn’t look excited at the hostage idea, go figure. “I don't want to make him climb all the way back up for nothing.

“I don't really want to climb all the way back down there,” he complains, but its for nought as Etho clambers up to where they're sitting, leading the (very slow) charge down to the base of the ladder. His arms feel shaky by the time he reaches the bottom, from both exertion and exhaustion. He feels like he hasn’t slept properly in weeks.

Scott taps out the message on his comm, feet firmly planted into the nice sandy ground below him. It’s a comfort, to be back on truly solid ground again, even with the TIES’ wonky tower casting a slightly uneven shadow over them all.

<Smajor1995> come to us

He follows behind Martyn and Etho absently as he continues to type, hopping over the small blast craters easily and circling around the larger ones just as easily. He has to pause for a moment to bat away a zombie, sword slashing straight through its chest and sending it dissolving into a pile of dust.

<Smajor1995> we have etho

He knows its an ominous message to leave it on, especially when the two of them have been separated for who knows how long. Etho chuckles a little at it, but doesn’t send a message to reassure his teammate. A sense of urgency makes for swift feet, and they want to deal with the Neighbours as quickly as possible, he supposes. Better to do it now than when their timers are about to run out.

“What do you mean you have Etho?!” Scott spins on the spot to greet Impulse.

“As a friend!” he calls back. “We have Etho as a friend!” A skeleton shoots him as he speaks, managing to actually hit him when he’s sluggish on putting his shield up. It’s enough to make him realise how surrounded by mobs they’ve gotten, closed in on all sides, each of them beating back at least two mobs at a time.

“Let’s go!” he calls out, looking around for a place for them to actually go. He only manages to spot the little cave entrance by chance, remembering the little nook beyond that they can hunker down in for the night. Martyn catches up with him quickly when he realises where Scott’s heading. “Told you framing it like we had Etho as a hostage would work.”

“Yeah, wasn’t you he tried to run through with his sword.” Martyn mutters.

“He didn’t try to run you through with his sword,” he rebukes softly, speaking quieter as they enter the cave, aware that their voices will echo over to the following pair.

“He was thinking it,” Martyn says darkly. “I could sense it; hear it in the air.”

Scott doesn’t even get to ask what the hell that means, because Impulse is suddenly slamming the door shut and saying something about “not letting the zombies in too!”

The plan is laughably easy to make, once they get over their bickering and the small taunts they throw at each other. It’s hard not to point out Impulse’s attempts to blow him up earlier, something that Impulse receives with good grace and lets go as water under the bridge.

It’s only worrying how often Martyn spaces out, only ever chiming back in with something that nearly has Scott questioning how he knows Grian is currently away from the base, or that Pearl is up on Skynet, nevermind that all of them are underground and have been for the better part of twenty minutes, formulating the plan they're going to use to try and eliminate their biggest threat. How Martyn knows this is a mystery, but not anything that anyone is questioning, for some reason?

It doesn’t stop Scott from inching a little closer, until they're close enough to touch. So Scott can make sure he’s still real, still there. Not yet gone and seeing things that only the dead are meant to see.

It’s unnerving, how Martyn’s eyes go far away when he thinks about something, considers a question that he realistically shouldn’t have the answer to.

It’s terrifying when he tilts his head to the side, as though angling himself to listen to something more intently.

=== === ===

Oh this is new, he thinks, when he enters the tower that he knows BigB is in, and there’s no-one there. He holds his sword steady, laughing a little as he looks around.

He’s not invisible, no small swirls of smoke giving away his position as he moves. There’s absolutely no indication of where BigB is, other than the faint impression that there’s a person right in front of him.

“Oh, you're invisible,” he says aloud, mostly to himself.

“Am I?” BigB’s voice comes from a little to the left, and he swings for it, sword sweeping in a wide arc as he hopes it catches on flesh. It jerks to a stop as it embeds itself in…some part of BigB. He stares hard at that spot in front of him, but his eyes refuse to focus, sliding away whenever he tries to look for longer than a second.

“You are,” he confirms, ignoring BigB’s small grunt of pain as he yanks his sword back towards himself, holding it up defensively. This entire fight just got a lot harder if BigB isn’t the one doing this. It can only be one other doing this, sabotage against him. Something to make him fall a little easier. He loses track of where BigB is, the empty tower around them making his footsteps echo and hard to track. “I'm sure this fight will be easy enough, though.”

“No it won’t!”

Gotcha.

He swings around, spinning on the heel of his foot to make it quicker, flipping his sword at the last moment and slamming the blunt edge of his blade into BigB’s side, winding him rather than slicing him in half.

He swings his sword up to block at the shing of a blade being unsheathed, feeling the invisible weapon press down against his hands, heavy and forcing him to bend beneath it. He bends his knees, sinking a little lower. BigB laughs, excited at this upper hand he’s gained.

Scott holds it a little longer, ignoring the way his arms begin to shake from the strain. Only when he’s certain BigB is pressing most of his weight down against him does he slip away, dropping his sword and darting out of range as fast as he can.

‘As fast as he can’ is apparently not fast enough, feeling the cool metal of a blade dig into his back before he manages to slip completely away, hissing through clenched teeth at the burning sensation that quickly spreads over his back.

“Hah!” BigB cheers at this small victory, even as Scott turns back to face him. The wavering outline of something vaguely resembling a person is all he has to go off of. It’s like the wavering air above stone on a hot day. “Still confident?”

“Of course,” he scoffs. He ignores the way he has to readjust his grip on his sword, hand sweaty as he backs up another step. Whatever invisibility gift this is, it’s not fair. He has a rather good idea of who is doing this, and he cusses them out silently in his mind. Maybe They’ll be able to hear his swearing. “You think I’ll go down that easily?”

He can feel the blood soaking through his shirt rather quickly. For a surface wound, it’s bleeding a lot, and really quite painful.

He still swings when BigB comes at him again, the sound of feet on the cobbles his only indicator. Swinging in such a wide arc wrenches something in his shoulder, and he swears he can feel the flesh tearing further, strained apart like the threads of a garment, stretched beyond breaking point.

In the end, BigB catches him unawares. A rather easy feat, considering he can’t see the other man.

He gasps at the feeling of a blade piercing his flesh, stumbles back – tries to stumble backwards, finds himself stuck on whatever weapon he’s just been impaled with. The weapon he can’t see, but his mind still registers the pain pain pain of a slow death. Still registers the blood blossoming around the puncture.

He can see his insides, vaguely and through a distorted lens. It warps, as though he should be seeing something other than the tearing of his blood vessels and his parted flesh. He can see organs you're not meant to see, curled around himself in the way that he is, can see the puncturing of these probably vital organs which is not a good sign for his continued survival. His flesh is darker than he thought it would be, and bleeds for far longer than he expects.

He lasts far longer than he expected, shallow breaths wheezing out of him as he crumples to the ground.

“Woah, hey,” hands he can’t see lay over his arms, the faint feeling of pressure against his skin the only thing his mind registers. He can see his skin indent where hands press against his forearms, idents that can only be created by hands holding onto him. Hands that he cannot, for some reason, see. “It’ll be over in a sec, I’m sure.”

Scott tilts his head back and allows himself a small groan. He’s bleeding out slowly and sluggishly, he thinks he can afford a singular moment of pain amongst this shitshow.

He almost reaches the point of asking BigB to just slit his throat when the room spins dizzying circles around him, and words are coming from an unseen mouth, unseen hands brushing up and down his arms in what is probably meant to be a reassuring gesture, but is actually just unnerving.

He chokes on the blood in his mouth, and wakes with it still coating his teeth.

=== === ===

“Do you want to get BigB again?” Martyn asks, turning to him with a gleam in his eyes.

Scott hasn’t decided whether he likes this new Martyn yet or not. The Martyn of earlier, with his listless expression and drifting thoughts was not fun to deal with nor exciting to observe, but the Martyn of the here and now, the Martyn with an anticipatory gleam in his eye and a pep in his step at the thought of killing someone else is also not reassuring.

“Not really,” he replies, as casually as he can. “I got my time back from him.”

“And you don't want more?”

“Uh, not really, no.” He and Martyn are alone right now, Impulse and Etho splitting off from their little group momentarily. He doubts they’ll join back together again, everyone’s clocks hanging far too low to trust someone you only made a temporary alliance with.

(For just a moment, Scott wishes they’d come back. Come and act as a buffer between him and the ally that he no longer recognises. The gleam in his eye is dangerous, it warns. A herald of what is to come. He considers, briefly, slipping away into the night and disappearing until his clock runs out of time. Until that last grain of sand in his hourglass slips through and buries him completely. He’s not sure he wants to see what will happen if it’s just him and Martyn. When it’s just him and Martyn.)

“Alright,” Martyn drags the word out, as though he doesn’t believe him. Maybe he doesn’t, with the red-blindness that seems to descend onto everyone at this point, looming over their shoulders like a particularly grim reminder. He can almost hear the clocks ticking down, beat by beat, moment by moment. “If you say so.”

“I do,” he says. “I do say so.”

Martyn considers him for another moment longer. Watches him with those red eyes that seem to hold nothing but calculations behind them. A measure of how long it would take to overpower someone, how long it would take to bleed them dry of their blood and their time. How many arrows to divert someone from their chosen path. How many swings of the sword before their time can be claimed, like the spoils after a hunt.

Scott hates it. Hates this. Hates what his friends become. Hates what it is – who it is – that makes them do it.

Martyn shrugs and turns away. His walk is casual, deceptively so. He moves quickly, off to kill whoever it is that he’s set his mind on. Possibly the Nosy Neighbours, eyes set on them as a target, like a dog with a bone, relentlessly gnawing on it as though that will force it to produce something more.

Ah, yes. That’s what it is.

Martyn watches him as though his heart no longer beats, as though he is nothing more than a chunk of flesh to be devoured for the benefit, what he might gain from it.

Scott walks in the opposite direction to Martyn and hopes, rather selfishly, that they don’t have to cross paths again.

=== === ===

All paths lead back to the clock. All lead back to the timer ticking down, hanging heavy over their heads and around their necks; a slowly tightening noose.

Perhaps it is fitting, then, with his clock at a negligible amount that they arrive at the Clock Tower. Built at the centre of their little world. Everything revolves around the clock, and the Clockers have made sure they cannot forget that.

The face of it peers down at them, despite Scott not being able to see it from where he stands now. He can feel it. Can feel the ticking of the hands, the shifting and grinding of the gears that allow it to turn. Will allow it to turn long after each of them is dead.

Martyn and Impulse watch each other warily, watch him warily. He watches them back, far less wary than either of them.

He can see how this plays out, can see the end already in the tight grip of a hand upon a sword. Can see the way such a hand refuses to release the last weapon he holds, refuses to give up his one advantage here. Can see how the hand hesitates when moving to unstrap his armour, to unbuckle the plates and let them fall loosely to the ground.

Scott undoes the strap in one unceremonious movement, only grimacing slightly at the clatter as it hits the ground, rolling uselessly around his feet.

Martyn watches him, suspicion misting his eyes. His hand continues to falter, resting over his heart and over his chestplate. One that has still to be removed. Impulse’s armour lays on the ground, too, scattered around in pieces as though he’d simply tossed it aside carelessly in his eagerness to get it off.

Scott tilts his head to the side, almost imperceptibly, watches the way Martyn tracks the tiny movement. The way Impulse does not.

There is a question in his eyes, one that he is not sure Martyn can read anymore. The Martyn of yesterday would have been able to. The Martyn that still cared to scrub his hands free of blood, the one that cared enough to clean beneath his nails, so not even the slightest speck of blood would continue to stain his hands.

The Martyn of today is not the one he has spent time getting to know better. He is not the one that could read a question in the tilt of his eyebrows or the squint of his eyes. He is not the one that would be able to read the question in his eyes right now, swimming just below the surface. Maybe Martyn reaches for that understanding he once had, but the explanation slips away easily, a fish disappearing beneath the surface once more.

So maybe he doesn’t read the implicit permission. The silent question that doesn’t need an answer. Because Martyn might not be able to read his eyes, might not be able to read anything from him at this point, but Scott can still read him. Can still see the plan in his eyes, the way it whirrs in his brain as he smooths out the crinkles and finalises it.

Still, despite Martyn’s plan being finalised, set in stone and ready to be carried out regardless of what anyone says, Scott gives him a small nod that he might not catch. A granting of permission. A better you than anyone else. Martyn might not understand it. May have lost the ability to read him entirely.

He still ends up with a sword through the heart, pulled out slowly, longingly. Blood coats the inside of his mouth, and when he coughs, feels it spilling over, it feels like a parting kiss.

#juno.writes #mer scott (+ fishfucker martyn)#limited life #limited life fic #majorwood #trafficshipping #scott smajor #martyn inthelittlewood #mean gills #trafficblr #traffic series #traffic smp #limited life scott #limited life martyn #limited life smp #trafficfic

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strangerstilinski · 5 months

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stiles girlies if you're still here would you perhaps like a teeny tiny little sneak peek of Selenophiles chapter 10 in honor of me surpassing 12,000 words and it still not being finished

if your answer was yes, then here you go 👀

Matt sighed in irritation, “He had this first edition Spider-Man.. Or.. Was it Batman..?” He scratched at his temple in thought before shaking his head, seemingly deciding that the specifics didn’t matter, “We were gonna make a trade. But then I’m over there and I hear music in the backyard.. And when I go back there, everyone’s having a good time. I see Sean, and he throws Jessica in the pool. And then Bennet goes in-”

Each of their faces flash in Amber’s memory as he says their names — The team photograph from the 2008 yearbook was practically burned into her brain by now. That group huddled together in the front row, smiling faces pressed close, championship medals hanging around their necks.. Those had been Lahey’s favorites-

They were all dead now.

“-And then Camden..” Matt continued, “Isaac’s jarhead brother? He grabs me. He thinks it’s funny.”

“He threw you in.” Scott deduced.

Amber loathed the brief flash of pity that swirled in her chest, “Matt, he couldn’t have known-” She said as gently as she could manage.

“I yelled that I can’t swim,” Matt interrupted her sharply, “But nobody listened. I went under. I swallowed water.. And no one cared.” His words are barbed, sticky rage coating every one, “I see these bodies, under the water. I see Jessica’s got a hand down Sean’s swim trunks. Tucker’s grabbing Kara. And I’m drowning. I’m dying and they’re all laughing. And then all of sudden I was just.. Laying by the pool. And Lahey is right there above me and he says: You tell no one! He tells me: This.. This is your fault!” Matt’s voice cracks around the words even as the anger in his eyes intensifies, “And, What little bastard doesn’t know how to swim? He told me to say nothing. To tell no one.. And I didn’t. I didn’t tell anyone. But then I would see them around town, at school, and they wouldn’t even look at me.”

Amber looked into Matt’s eyes, saw the way they had darkened and clouded over with his building rage, and realization set in inside of her with a sort of finality. There was truly no getting through to him. Nothing they could say would ever be enough to talk him down from the ledge he’d dragged himself onto. Trauma was a tricky thing, like that. It wedged itself deep inside of you, manifested itself in ways you couldn’t predict or rewrite. And Matt’s trauma had buried itself so far down that angry thorns had twisted their way around it, sharp barbs pricking at the scabbed over memories whenever he moved just right. Those thorns had caused all that pain to bleed internally. It bled, and it bled. Until that pain and fear had fermented into something worse, something ugly, something dangerous.

Blind fury.

“I’d wake up in the middle of the night gasping for breath,” Matt continued in a rush, words tripping over one another in his haste. Tears shone in his eyes, big and welling at his waterline even as his lip pulled back in a snarl, “And my parents? They thought I was asthmatic. Th-They even got me an inhaler. They didn’t know that every time I closed my eyes I was in that pool. Every time I closed my eyes I.. I was drowning.”

Amber swallowed down around the lump that had suddenly found a home in her throat, and the bile on the back of her tongue tasted an awful lot like chlorine. She blinked once and she was back in that pool with Stiles and Derek. She felt the cloudy pool water stinging at her eyes, felt the way the pressure had built up and pressed against the insides of her skull when her lungs screamed for oxygen. She remembered the defeat of taking in that first gulp of water and the way it burned in her chest. She remembered the ache in her tired muscles finally relaxing as her spotty vision went dark. She remembered gagging and retching around the water as it came back up and then the coughing that immediately followed as she fought to bring air into her lungs. She remembered Stiles saving her the first time around, and then Scott an hour or so later when she very nearly had it happen all over again.

“I drowned that night at the school pool.”

Her voice was so hollow, Amber almost didn't realize the words came from herself. When she shook her head, the world around her spun for a moment, but when it cleared, so did the worst of the memories. She looked up again and found both boys looking at her with differing expressions, though they both displayed underlying confusion.

…

#stiles stilinski #selenophiles #stiles stilinski fic #teen wolf

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drabbles-mc · 2 years

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In Pieces

Chibs Telford x F!Reader

Whumptober 2022: No.19 Enough is Enough- Knees Buckling

Warnings: angst, language, alcohol

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Me? Taking all of my trauma, tying up in a bow, and shoving it into the arms of this gruff man? It’s more likely than you think.

SOA Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @espieviolet99 @mijop @chibsytelford @thanossexual @anditsmywholeheart @i-just-read-stuff @bport76 @withmyteeth @unicornucopia-fuckers @buckybarneshairpullingkink @shadow-of-wonder @punkgoddess-98 @paintballkid711 @black-repunzel99 @lexondeck @jitterbugs927 @fanfic-n-tabulous @mijagif @frattsparty @winchestershiresauce @bellisperennis0 @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @beardburnsupersoldiers @mveggieburger @choochoo284 @littlekittymeow @beardsanddetectives @i-love-scott-mccall @passionatewrites @garbinge (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

When his phone started going off in the middle of the night, his first thought was to throw it against the fucking wall. If it was the club, he didn’t want to know what could possibly be going on at this hour that they would need to call him for. If it was anyone else, there was no way they had a good enough reason to be calling. He hadn’t even set up a voicemail box. Whoever it was, was just going to have to try again later.

Only the ringing didn’t stop. Whoever decided to reach out, was painfully persistent. With a groan and a slew of curses, he blindly reached over and grabbed the flip phone from his nightstand. Flipping it open, he drowsily pinned it to his ear.

“What?”

It was loud on the other end of the line. So loud that it made Chibs cringe even in his half-asleep state. It didn’t seem to bother the man who was speaking on the other end of the line, though, over the sound of music and chaos.

“Hey. You, uh, is this Chibs?”

“Depends who’s fuckin’ asking,” he grumbled.

That’s when he heard your voice faintly in the background. “Put me on! Let me talk to him!” Even though you weren’t the one holding the phone, even though he still wasn’t fully awake, he could still hear how drunk you were. “You want me outta here so bad, tough guy? Hand me the phone! He’s not gonna say yes to you. He never says no to me.”

Chibs heard the man sigh and he huffed out an exhausted chuckle. “Put ‘er on.”

“Chibby!” Even though it was impossible, he swore he could smell the liquor on your breath through the phone.

“You causin’ trouble, darlin’?” he forced himself into an upright position as he spoke, eyes still not fully open.

“Never!”

“Liar.”

You giggled. “Maybe.”

He rubbed the heel of his palm against his eyes. “Where’d ye get off to now? I’ll come pick you up.”

You rattled off the name of the bar, a bit of a slur to your words but Chibs still got the point. “You’re a saint, you know.”

“Maybe in my next life, love.” He shook his head. “Drink some water while you wait for me to get there.”

“I love you,” you practically sang into the phone.

He sighed as he got up off his mattress. “I know.”

Once he hung up the phone, he began the agonizing process of getting ready. It was bad enough to have to do it in the morning when he was supposed to be waking up. But being roused in the middle of the night like this was much worse. It was you, though, and he’d do anything for you. So he put on his jeans, pulled on his boots without bothering to knot them tightly, and headed for the door.

He called again when he got to the bar. He had no desire to go inside, but he was willing to storm in and storm right back out if he had to. And, judging by the way that his call went to voicemail, he thought that he was going to have to. Dropping his head back for a moment, he took a deep breath in an attempt to gear himself up to head inside.

Just as he swung open the door of the truck, you came stumbling out of the bar. He huffed out a tired chuckle at the sight of you, simply shaking his head as you crossed the street to get to him. You wobbled your way over, but you didn’t fall. He was honestly pretty impressed, especially given the shoes that you were wearing. He knew a fair share of people who wouldn’t be able to walk in those stone-cold sober. Honestly, he thought that you were one of those people.

“You’re here,” you all but flung yourself into his arms.

He caught you with a quiet oof, slipping his arms underneath yours as you leaned against his chest. “I am.”

“You’re the best, you know.”

He hummed, a little amused but not disagreeing with you. “C’mon. Let’s get you home.”

“I thought,” you looked up at him through your eyelashes, “maybe I could stay with you.”

He studied the look in your eyes, trying to gauge where you were at. After a few seconds that felt much longer than that, he caved. Nodding, he reached and pulled the passenger door open. “Alright, then. C’mon, love. Up you go.”

You clumsily clamored your way into the truck. “I thought you’d bring the bike.”

“You didn’t sound like you were in riding condition.” The second the words left his mouth he regretted it, not even having to look at you to know what your face looked like. He shook his head as he swung the car door shut. “Don’t.”

You laughed, leaning back in the seat and letting your eyes shut. “You said it, not me.”

The drive went by quickly. It had been a long time since you found yourself riding shotgun in the T-M truck. If you’d been a little more sober it would’ve crossed your mind that that meant he left his house on his bike, drove to the compound, swapped his bike out for the truck, and then made his way to you. It was more effort than most people would’ve put into coming to get you. When you sobered up, you’d have to thank him. Most people you’d offer to buy them a coffee, but you knew Chibs—there was a handle of whiskey with his name on it at the end of all of this.

“Wake up,” he said as he cut the ignition on the truck.

You shook your head as you stretched your arms up, “Didn’t fall asleep.”

“Close, though.”

“Yea,” you conceded, “close.”

The two of you made your way into his house. You kicked your heels off right at the door, the relief indescribable as your feet hit the ground, finally flat again after a long night. You didn’t even stop to ask if you were going to be sleeping on the couch or in his bed, just opting to make your way right to his bedroom. He shook his head as he watched you while he slipped out of his boots. It wasn’t long before he was trailing behind you.

When he got to the doorway of his bedroom, you were slowly pacing around the room, looking at everything like it was your first time crossing the threshold even though it was far from it. There wasn’t much to look at—it wasn’t as though Chibs was crazy about interior design. But it seemed to be enough to keep you amused for the short-term.

Walking up behind you, he gently rested his hands on your shoulders. He didn’t force you to turn around and face him, allowing you to poke your way through the various miscellaneous trinkets and pieces of jewelry on top of his dresser.

“Wanna talk about tonight?”

You turned to look over your shoulder at him, the confused look was a fleeting one before you refocused on what you’d been doing before. “Talk about it? What’s there to talk about?” You let out a laugh, but it wasn’t the same type of laugh as before. “Figured calling you was better than trying to drive myself home.”

“This isn’t like you, though.”

“What are you talking about?” you tried to sound unbothered, but even though you weren’t looking at Chibs, you could tell that he wasn’t sold on it.

“You don’ get like this when you’re doing good, darlin’. We both know that.” His thumbs gently traced back and forth across the exposed skin of your shoulders. “If you were out there tonight to have a good time, you’d be in someone else’s bed by now,” he gently turned you so that you were facing him before softly swiping away the smudged makeup from beneath your eyes, the only evidence left over from your previous meltdown in the bar bathroom, “and your eyes wouldn’ be looking like this.”

You sniffled, giving a smile and still not wanting to admit that he was 100% right. “What, ‘cause I wanna be in your bed tonight means that something’s wrong?”

He frowned. “The fact that you called my emergency burner, and were stumbling out the bar instead of walking, means something’s wrong.” He cupped the side of your face. “Don’t lie to me, love.”

The warmth of his palm against your skin and the earnest, albeit exhausted, tone of his voice stripped away the last of your resolve. No amount of liquor in the world could cover up your pain in front of him. Tears immediately sprung into your eyes and your lip started to quiver.

“Chibs,” you choked out, “please. I don’t,” you shook your head, dropping your face into your hands, “I can’t do this.”

You tried to lean into him but he stopped you, keeping you at arm’s length so you didn’t have the chance to hide. “Do what?”

“I can’t,” you gestured vaguely, as if to say everything.

His frown deepened, trying to figure out what happened, what set it all off this time around. It’d been a long time since he saw you looking so broken, a long time since he saw you so desperately trying to cover it all up and somehow still failing to do so. He was no stranger to burying things deep in his chest, trying not to think about the reality of the weight he carried on his shoulders each day. He knew what it was like to put on a brave face every day.

He also knew what it was like to be fucking exhausted.

“Did someone,” you felt the way his touch lightened as he forced the question out, “did someone hurt you?”

Tears spilled over onto your cheeks as you shook your head. “No.” You sniffled, not able to look him in the eyes. “I just, lately, I don’t know. I just fucking,” it felt impossible to string the words together, “I can’t not think about all of it.”

“All of what?”

You let out a laugh, but it was devoid of any humor. “Exactly. You can’t,” you shook your head, “you can’t even try to narrow it down.” You raked your hands along your scalp, “That’s,” your voice broke, getting louder even though you didn’t mean for it to, “that’s how much fucked up shit has happened to me! That’s how fucking fucked—”

He pulled you tight against his chest before you could say more. He didn’t say anything as he rested his hand so that it was cradling the back of your head. His other arm wrapped around you, pinning your arms to your sides as he held you.

The second your cheek pressed tight against his shirt, you broke down. Sobs wracked your entire body, leaving you a trembling mess against his steady frame. He wrapped his arm tighter around you as you cried against him, the sound causing an ache so deep inside his chest he didn’t even think that he had that kind of depth to him anymore.

“I can’t feel like this forever, Chibs,” you sobbed, shaking your head against him. “I can’t do this forever. I can’t fucking do it.”

He let his eyes shut as he held you, taking an unsteady breath as he tried to keep himself together for your sake. “I know.” The words were hardly a whisper—he didn’t think that he could manage much more.

“When does it stop?!” your voice cracked, legs finally buckling beneath the weight of your sadness. “When does it stop hurting?”

He quickly shifted his arms to make sure you didn’t crumble to the floor. You balled his shirt in your fists, clinging to him like he was your own personal life preserver. It wouldn’t be the first time that he was the only thing that he was keeping you afloat.

Chibs had been there as you dragged yourself through hardships that would’ve broken most other people. The hits kept coming, one after the other. There were times when he thought that you were going to give in underneath the weight of it all. You went through more in the span of a couple years than most people went through in a lifetime. It was horrific, but you still managed to get up every day and get out the door, even if on the other side of it there was just more heartbreak. He’d been there for all of it, sometimes a bit closer than others. There were times that distance was the best thing that he could give you, almost like having him too close was too stark of a reminder of what you’d been through.

Most times, though, he was doing something like what he was right now. It was never this intense, though. A hand to hold, a few brief words of comfort, a hug that lasted a few beats longer than necessary, a warm bed for the night—those were things that he had been for you time and time again. You usually turned up on his doorstep, silent but still somewhat put together. He could always tell by the look in your eyes where you were at and what you needed.

Which was why he knew that tonight was different. When distractions failed, you usually just needed someone there while you finished gluing yourself back together. But you were still in pieces. And he wasn’t used to that, not from you.

“Please, Chibs,” your buried your face against his chest, “tell me that it stops hurting. Tell me I’m not going to feel like this forever.”

“It…” He paused, trying to pick the right words but not wanting to lie to you. You’d never believed him when he bullshitted you. “You get better. It doesn’t. You do, though. You will.”

Your lips were still trembling as you leaned against him. “It doesn’t stop, does it?”

He kissed the side of your head. “You don’t either.”

Your voice was barely a whisper, “I wish I could.”

He always thought that it was an exaggeration when people said that they could feel their heart crumpling inside their chest. He understood it now, though, and if anything, they were underselling it. He squeezed you a little tighter. “I know.”

You were fighting to get your breathing back under control, and it was a fight that you were losing. Pressing your forehead against his chest, you said, “I just want it to stop hurting. I don’t, I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to feel it.”

“I think that’s how we ended up here.”

You sucked in an unsteady breath. “I can’t,” your breathing stuttered, “I can’t keep doing this. I’m fucking tired, Chibs.” You shut your eyes tight, tears continuing to further dampen his shirt. “I don’t…I can’t…” your voice trailed off, not even sure what more there was to say. You didn’t have it in you to try and articulate everything that was running through your head, the thoughts and memories that were so loud you couldn’t even try to think about anything else.

Chibs could tell by the way you were melting into him, that you didn’t realize just how much he was still responsible for keeping you upright. All the strength was sucked out of you. He took a deep breath. “You don’t have to.” He started to shift both of you back towards his bed. “Come on, now.”

You let him sit you on the edge of the bed. You let him carefully peel your dress off over the top of your head. He tossed it, letting it drape over the footboard. You knew that you should’ve felt awkward, exposed sitting there in your bra and underwear with smeared makeup and tears still on your face, but you didn’t. Chibs stood between your legs, allowing you to drop your head against him once more as you wrapped your arms around his middle. He rested his hand between your shoulder blades, his fingers splaying across the bare skin of your back.

Eventually, you found yourself sliding underneath the covers, head resting on one of the two pillows by his headboard. You laid so that you were facing away from him, like that would somehow bury any of what had just transpired.

Instead of getting into bed behind you, where there was undoubtedly more mattress-space, he squeezed himself between you and the edge of the mattress. You let out a tired sigh, not able to look him in the eyes. “Chibs…”

“Get off my side, then,” he mumbled as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against his now-exposed chest.

You didn’t have any fight left in you, so you just sank against him. Your breathing was starting to even out, but the tears were still steadily trickling down your face. They were dampening his skin now instead of his clothes, but he still didn’t seem to mind it all that much.

“I’ve got you.”

“I’m so sorry,” your voice shook as you apologized.

“I’m not,” his response sounded so certain.

“What if I don’t get better?”

He’d never heard you sound so scared, so small. He held you tightly, kissing the edge of your forehead. “I’ll still be here.”

“Promise?”

The desperation in your voice sent another ache through his heart. “Yea,” he kissed you again, “I promise.”

#chibs telford #fic #sons of anarchy imagine #soa #soa imagine #chibs telford x reader #chibs telford x you #chibs telford fanfic #filip telford #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc #sons of anarchy

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c-m-li-s-fanfic-corner · 2 months

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WIP Lineup 8/1/24

Blow Out the Candle

A Song of Ice and Fire / Fire & Blood

Story# 1 of 2 in Change the Fate's Design Duology

Daemon Targaryen/Gael Targaryen

Baelon Targaryen gets a visit from 14 of his descendants who tell him about the fall of House Targaryen and how to prevent it.

98% book canon, I'm only taking like 1.75 things from the show.

Entire 1st story is in Baelon's POV, but this whole thing is Daemon-centric.

Not Viserys friendly.

* * *

Linger Near Me

A Song of Ice and Fire (entirely book canon)

Jon Snow/Satin

Jon Snow directly after his resurrection.

Mildly dark-ish Jon Snow.

Short one shot w/ no longterm plans.

This is just the result of me hating the way Jon's resurrection was handled in the show and waiting 13 years for the next book.

* * *

Needle and a Thread, Gonna Wind Up Dead

A Song of Ice and Fire / Fire & Blood

Daemon Targaryen/Gael Targaryen

Daemon and Gael wake up in their younger bodies after their deaths right before Daemon's wedding to Rhea Royce. They decide to fuck it all and elope.

* * *

Substance Left Inside My Head, Telling Me I'm Not Allowed to Feel

DC Comics

After years of being held by the Court of Owls, Dick's siblings finally have enough in place to rescue him. But that's the easy part and now Dick has to live with the consequences.

* * *

Blood Runs Thicker Than Water

Teen Wolf / Supernatural

Stiles/Derek, Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen

After getting beat up in Gerard's torture basement, Stiles' dad has had enough and calls for reinforcements from his cousin, John Winchester.

Not Scott or Allison friendly.

* * *

Cast Off the Violence That Has Us In Thrall

Star Wars

Obi-Wan/Cody

Obi-Wan never left Melida-Daan and now he's stepping foot back on Coruscant for the first time during the clone wars.

Not friendly to Qui-Gon Jinn, Anakin, or Padme.

Healthy dose of Obi-Wan & Quinlan friendship.

* * *

Heathen

Star Wars

Obi-Wan & Cin Drallig

Rule 63 for Obi-Wan, Quinlan, and Feemor

Melida-Daan centric and the aftermath, huge canon divergences.

Not friendly to Qui-Gon or Yoda.

* * *

(an og work that shall remain unnamed that started out as nightwing/a song of ice and fire fanfic and has been distracting me for months)

#ao3 #fanfic #writer #asoiaf #fire & blood #dc comics #nightwing #star wars #teen wolf #supernatural

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dira333 · 1 year

Text

Road trip

Scotty x reader

The arctic road, Norway

Shore leave stretches out in front of you just like the dark road in front of the trailer you’re sitting in.

When the last houses fade into the darkness behind you, you curb down the window and taste the night air.

“You can go back and sleep,” Scott offers from behind the steering wheel.

“How long are you planning to drive?” You ask, pulling the window up again and turning to him. You can barely make out his face in the darkness, but after having spent five years on the same starship and another thirteen hours on a flight from San Francisco to Stavanger you know his features well enough to know he’s scrunching up his nose in concentration now as he contemplates.

“Should take us about an hour to that place we wanted to stay for the night.”

“You could just pull over at the next stop and come to bed with me,” you offer and realize the double meaning of your words only when he chokes in surprise.

“I didn’t mean like that,” you clarify and you feel his hand touching your arm immediately afterward.

“I know,” he assures you, despite his voice sounding the tiniest bit strained, “I know. I’m gonna pull over at the next rest area.”

You both fall silent after that. It’s a comfortable silence and one of the reasons the two of you are so close is the fact that you are able to be alone together, lost in your own minds from time to time.

After almost five years of friendship, you’ve just recently started dating, easing yourself into being more, a couple, lovers essentially.

You’ve started calling him Scott instead of Scotty and even though you had secretly doubted it at first, calling him by his first name instead of a nickname had left you feeling even closer to him. He had started to hold your hand whenever you two had to walk in the same direction or entangling your fingers when you sat down to eat in the mess hall. And instead of just pulling the other in for a quick hug when you had to leave for your work or the night, you pressed the shortest kisses on each other’s mouth, cheeks, and nose.

And now you’d go on vacation together. A trailer road trip through Norway, bringing back memories from all the times you had done this as a child with your parents. You had told Scott of the summers spent like that, of the countries you had visited.

“Let’s do this, then,” he had offered, “Let’s discover a country together. Name one you haven’t been too yet.”

“Scotland,” you told him immediately, “I mean, we went to Ireland when I was seven and I have been to South England two times, but I’ve never been to Scotland before.”

“Well, I think I’m a bit biased in this, but Scotland is a great country. But I’d just be me showing ye around, trying not to sound like an arrogan’ prick.”

You had thrown around other ideas then, not fully satisfied with any choice until you stumbled across a picture of the Pulpit Rock.

“Norway,” you had told him, “I promise you it will be great.”

Pulpit Rock

It’s still dark when you wake up, Scott snoring faintly beside you.

You step out of the trailer and look up at the stars that are already fading, looking for the morning star whose light is still bright enough to guide you, before planning your route with a flashlight and an old-fashioned paper map.

Scott does not wake up the whole time you’re driving, you can hear him snoring just a few steps behind you. The rhythm of it makes you forget time and you reach the Lysefjord faster than you thought.

The sun has started to rise while you drove, bathing the fjord in soft light. The mountains rise on both sides of the fjord-like thick stone walls and you feel safe and shielded down here on the green fields just shy of the waterfront.

You stop the car and walk back to make coffee, waiting for the sound of the boiling water and the smell to wake up Scott.

“What time is it?” He asks with a gravelly voice, stepping up to you with a messy bedhead, slinging his arms around you and pressing his face into your shoulder instead of taking the cup of coffee you had held out for him.

“Breakfast time,” you tell him, “And we got the Lysenfjord as a stunning scenery.”

“The Lysenfjord?” He asks, pulling back one arm to take the coffee from you. He takes a sip, savoring the strong drink that’s obviously helping him to gather his thoughts.

“Didnnae we stop for the night a bit after Stavanger?”

“We did, but I couldn’t sleep. Come on out and see.”

“Do I have to dress for tha’?” He asks, not waiting for an answer but slipping on shoes and stepping out into the clean morning, pulling you with him by your hand.

The Lysenfjord

By the time you’ve finished eating the sun has warmed up the air.

“The water will be cold,” you think out loud and he grins at you.

“When has tha’ ever stopped ye?”

“You’re right,” you nod, “Are you coming with me?”

“If I ever decline takin’ a bath with ye, please inform med-bay that I must have a serious disease,” he tells you with a wink.

You slip out of your clothes a few minutes later, looking over to Scott pulling off his shirt just a few steps away from you.

Your heart beats in your chest when you reach your hand out behind you, opening the clasp of your bra.

When Scott turns around there’s nothing more but a heap of clothes on the floor where you had stood, your bra right on top. He turns towards the water where you’re just resurfacing.

“It’s cold!” You tell him, “Come in!”

You start to swim to warm up, circling around the same spot to give him the time and privacy he might need.

But then he’s right there with you, wet hair sticking to his temple, drops of water running down his face.

“It’s cold!” He tells you and you laugh and let him pull you towards him, not thinking of anything else but the fact that he’s here with you, in this moment, this magnificent place.

You’ve never felt more alive than you do right now and you put your arms around him and kiss him, pouring everything you feel right into it.

Three weeks later you sit outside the trailer. You’ve parked half an hour from a city called Trollvik. Up here in the Arctic Circle, you’ve taken up the habit of sitting outside in the midnight sun, bundled up in blankets, sipping the tea Scott has made.

“We should stay here,” you tell him, leaning into him, enjoying the warmth of his body under the blanket, “At least the Arctic summer is over.”

“And what would we do then?”

“Drive back to the places and make more memories. Kiss you again at Pulpit Rock.”

“I don’t think skinny-dipping will be a good idea when it turns autumn.”

“Mmh,” you agree, “That’s right. But we can come back when it’s summer again.”

“We can,” he presses his face into your neck, pressing one, two, three kisses onto the soft skin there, “But right now I’m looking forward to everything else.”

“Tell me.”

“We can get shared quarters when we get back,” he tells you, the knuckles of his right hand rubbing circles into the skin of your tights, “I’d like to keep up our morning routine, too.”

“Yeah,” you smile and wiggle a bit closer to him, “I’d like that too.”

The midnight sun

#my writing #Star Trek #Star Trek AOS #Scotty x reader #Scotty AOS #Scott Montgomery #I wrote this years ago and I still don't really know what is his first name and what is not

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maria021015 · 4 months

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SPOILERS AHEAD FOR CHAPTER 36!

Researching who had broken into the vault and how they had done it did not take them minutes, as Stiles had promised Derek. Instead, it took them hours - and come morning they still didn’t have any answers.

“Kids!” Noah shouted at the three teenagers asleep in various strange positions scattered around his son’s bedroom. Stiles himself was face down on the floor with his cheeks smooshed against stacks of newspaper articles and beside a crime board with red string connecting printed papers. Scott was sprawled awkwardly over the desk chair and Zaida was spread out right on the edge of the bed with her arms dangling over the edge and reaching towards a laptop that was on the ground, her fingertips barely brushing the keyboard where it must have fallen at some point in the night. “Hey, time to wake up! Kids!”

“Am I late?!” Zaida yelped and woke with a start at the Sheriff’s raised voice, quickly losing her balance and crashing to the floor with a resounding thud and grunt of pain. She groaned as she rolled over onto her back and looked around the messy room to see Stiles in the process of getting up and Scott rubbed his eyes.

“I gotta get to work. You three? Get to school.” Stiles’ father instructed them firmly.

“Dad! Heather?” Stile blurted out the question, wondering if there was any news about the girl.

“No. Nothing yet.” The Sheriff shook his head grimly and headed downstairs to prepare his morning coffee.

“Ten hours and nothing.” Stiles sighed hopelessly, getting to his feet and gathering all of the papers that were covering the surfaces of his bedroom almost entirely from view.

“We're gonna find something,” Scott reassured the boy.

“Finding something doesn't make Erica any less dead, or Boyd any less about-to-be-dead…” He groused bitterly, feeling helpless against the clock that was steadily ticking in the back of their minds. They were running out of time.

“Well, we still have time.” The werewolf tried to look on the positive side, but the reality was that they were steadfastly running out of time.

“For now,” Zaida snorted, trying not to be the pessimist in this situation but failing miserably. She couldn’t even find it within her to sit up right now. The floor felt better than it ever had.

“Is this whole, like, ‘remain optimistic in the face of complete and utter disaster’ thing a part of the Be A Better Scott McCall Program?” Stiles grumbled sarcastically.

“Uh, not if it doesn't work…” Scott answered hesitantly, not knowing if Stiles meant it as a good thing or not. He was just trying to be helpful.

“No, it works.” Stiles smiled warmly at his best friend, appreciating his efforts. The smile dropped from his face along with his jaw when he looked at a paper he had just picked up in shock. Shoving it into Scott’s hands, the boy then hurried out of the room and after his father. “Oh, Dad! Dad? DAD!”

“What is he yapping about?” Zaida muttered and turned back over onto her stomach crawling across the floor with minimal energy toward the chair Scott was sitting in so he could flash her the image printed on the news article. A younger Sheriff Stilinski was pictured making the arrest of the criminals who broke into the vault. “How did we not think to ask him sooner?” She huffed and collapsed back onto the carpet lazily.

“Come on, you gotta get up. We have to get ready for school.” Scott urged her and she held up her arm in the air.

“Drag me.” She grunted in a deep voice, still heavy with sleep.

“To where?” Scott blinked at her blankly, and Stiles came running back into the room like a hurricane, tearing through his things to grab his backpack and shove a bunch of papers he’d just retrieved into it. He stopped only long enough to take one look at Zaida’s zombified form, and picked up a half-drunken bottle of water from his desk, unscrewing the lid and emptying the rest over her face as she gasped and shot straight up into a seated position.

“I am going to rip your testicles from your body and force-feed them to you, Stilinski!” Zaida shrieked loudly and shot him a dangerous glare.

“You gotta catch me first,” He shot back with a mischievous glint in his amber eyes and she launched herself off the floor and straight at him as he practically flew down the steps and towards the kitchen, hiding behind the form of his incredibly confused father.

“Whoah, hold up. What’s going on?” He held up his hands in an appeasing gesture as Zaida went skidding to a stop in front of him.

“Your son just poured half a bottle of stagnant desk water on me and I am going to kill him!” She growled in a low voice.

“Hey! It woke you up, didn’t it?” Stiles defended himself.

“Don’t you think killing is a little bit extreme?” Noah winced and Stiles nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

“Fine. Then I’m going to seriously maim and injure your son.” She settled for a midground and the Sheriff nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, that I can live with.” He stepped aside, placed his freshly brewed coffee on the kitchen bench and gave her a clear path to the boy, who looked at his father with narrowed eyes and his mouth floundering open and shut.

“You handed your own son over? Just like that?” Stiles shook his head, flabbergasted. “This complete and utter betrayal is appalling! I am your flesh and blood! The fruit of your loins!”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Noah tilted his head at Zaida, encouraging her forward, and her lips spread into a slow, evil smile as her eyes darkened at Stiles and she picked up the Sheriff’s mug of coffee. The boy barely had time to start running before she launched herself at him. He hooked around the kitchen bench and bolted through the dining room, looking back as he reached the living area just in time to see her gaining on him. In an instant she was leaping onto his back, wrapping an arm around his neck and her legs around his middle as she screamed profanities into his ear and tipped the coffee mug upside down over his spiky hair.

“No! Not the hair!” He whined as the girl released him and smirked smugly at the brown liquid running down his face. His hair was stuck to his forehead, a flattened mess.

“Clean it up Stiles,” Noah instructed the boy as he walked past them on his way out the front door, folding a new cup of coffee.

“What? Me? But she’s the one who-” The boy protested and sighed in defeat when the front door closed behind his father. Zaida smiled at him innocently as he glared at her. “You’re evil.”

“Maybe,” She shrugged nonchalantly and started climbing the staircase to get ready for school. “But I definitely won that round.”

“It wasn’t a competition! Just so you know!” He yelled out after her and was left standing alone, sopping wet in a puddle of coffee. “This is just great.”

“All right. So, we meet at Derek's at five to go over the plan, and then we don't get started until dark.” Scott summarised as they walked through the hallway lined with blue lockers.

“'Kay. What do we do 'til then?” Stiles nodded, fiddling with the straps of his backpack as adrenaline coursed through him in anticipation of their upcoming mission.

“What, right now?” Scott asked with his brows furrowed in confusion. “We've got English.”

“Yeah, and we really need to hurry up or we’re gonna be late.” Zaida huffed and quickened her pace as she glanced at the time flashing on her phone screen.

“And who’s fault was that, Zaida?” Stiles raised a brow at her in challenge.

“Yours,” She shot back with a sarcastic smile, finding it easier and easier to fall into their natural rhythm despite her growing feelings for him.

“How was it my fault?” The boy looked at her in bewilderment.

“You didn’t clean up the coffee fast enough, you didn’t run away quickly enough, you initiated a war by drowning me first thing in the morning - that’s three ways, you can choose your favourite.” She counted on her fingers as she listed them and then turned to walk backwards, holding up the three fingers she had raised to him - her index, middle and ring fingers. “Oh, and before I forget, read between the lines, Stilinski.”

“Oh, that’s lovely. Yeah, as if ruining my hair and my favourite flannel wasn’t enough, you just had to flip me off too.” He shook his head bitterly. “Are you seeing this, Scotty? You’re on my side, right?”

The werewolf pursed his lips and kept his mouth shut, not saying a word but being unable to fight off the amused smirk on his face. “Unbelievable! Betrayed by the man who gave me life and my best friend since the sandbox on the same day!”

“And it’s only eight.” Zaida winked at him, leaving him floundering as she stalked off to her locker.

“We should never have invited her into our group, you know. She’s getting between our friendship, and I really don’t like it.” Stiles sighed dramatically.

“Neither of us actually invited her though. She just barged in one day and sort of stuck.” Scott snickered. “Besides, where would we be without her?”

“You can’t love two people at the same time, Scotty. So pick. Is it gonna be her or me?” Stiles laid down the ultimatum in jest.

“Didn’t Captain Jack Sparrow once say that if you fall in love with two people, pick the second one because if you really loved the first, you never would have fallen for the second?” Scott mused.

“Have you been watching Pirates of the Caribbean without me?” Stiles’ jaw dropped practically to the floor.

“Zaida and I watched the other night after Heather’s party,” Scott admitted casually.

“Oh my God! I’ve been begging you to let me lead your movie education for years, and she waltzes in and after one night you actually let her ?” Stiles exclaimed exasperatedly, his hands flailing about wildly. “You totally Anakin Skywalkered me!”

“She was drunk! I wasn’t about to tell her no.” Scott defended himself. “I don't think anyone can tell her what to do, anyway. She’s Zaida,” He shrugged as if it was an explanation on its own, and it truly was.

#teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #stiles stilinski #stiles #stiles x oc #teen wolf fanfiction #female oc #female original character #scott mccall

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its-just-luci · 2 years

Text

youtube

Chapter 21: 18 Days.

(Foreigner, Cold as Ice)

Lawrence: Contact-light.

Scott: Okay engine disarmed.

Lawrence: got shutoff.

Scott: Alright, Houston. Tranquility is down at Pavlov.

Capcom: Roger ya down, 31. The Soviets send their regards.

Scott: Glad to hear, when are they due for reentry?

Capcom: Few hours, we’ll keep you boys posted.

Lawrence: We appreciate it John, send em our best wishes

Capcom: Of course, baby.

Tranquility had landed, and with it the end of an era. The lander touched down within sight of ASSET-2 and three other descent modules. This mission marked the final of NASA’s ultimate displays of Apollo’s sheer capabilities as a program. The program had matured rapidly in her years, and as one came to an end, yet another was to begin. RS-IC-000, the unnamed prototype booster for the STS began preparing for her rollout to LC-39A.

Lawrence: Alright flight, we’ve suited up and depressurized Hope.

Capcom: Roger that Rob, if y’all are good to go with the EVA go ahead, hear the crew of 30 even left the door unlocked for ya.

Scott: They damn better have, I left the spare key back home.

Lawrence: Think they could get Gus to bring it to us?

Capcom: (Muffled) My ass if I didn’t-

Scott: Come again?

Capcom: Sorry, Ed was saying he was in trouble if he didn’t.

Scott: Ed White and John Young in one room? Sure mission controllers will be able to keep us safe with all that kissing up?

Capcom: Shut it dave, you’re gonna be fine.

Scott: ‘Preciate the vote of confidence babe, we got the hatch open, disembarking.

Capcom: Alrighty, camera’s running.

(Astronaut Robert Lawrence descending the ladder, 1977.)

Scott: Alright, Robs down, I’mma go next-

Lenoir: Best for last I see?

Scott: Oh, in that case get your ass down there.

Both astronauts could be heard laughing, as Robert Lawrence reminded them: It’s not a race boys.

Scott: Suppose so, we’ll be here a while.

Some time passed as the astronauts slowly trekked the few hundred feet to ASSET’s front door. Once there, the three men saluted the flag awaiting in front of its door, before ultimately boarding the craft.

Scott: Ah shoot, think we left the keys in the ignition, let me go check.

Lawrence: Ooo me too-

Capcom: That one we can check, keep your butts inside. It’s time for lunch anyways

The five astronauts on comms all laughed, mission controllers growing somewhat perturbed with their stunts. Nevertheless, the three men ate their meal, and prepared for a short rest period before starting their second EVA of the mission. Scott and Lawrence suited back up, boarding the Molab and starting its fuel cells.

Scott: Alright, cells are runnin, lets see what this puppy can do-

Capcom: Speed limit’s 8, don’t make us call the cops like we did for Ronny-

Scott: Fine, I’ll behave.

The two men drove across the surface, averaging a speed well in excess of the Molab’s 8mph upper limit. Once they reached the Surveyor, they disembarked, and began unloading this quarter’s shipment. Somewhat-fresh fruit, soups, meats, vegetables and more were loaded into the rover alongside several hundred pounds of water and oxygen; This would be more than enough to support the crew of 3 over their 90 day stay.

Lawrence: Alright, we’re headed back to base.

Lenoir: I’ll turn on the porch light for ya-

Scott: Won’t be necessary this time bud, but I appreciate the offer.

Lenoir: You got it.

The rover returned, parking no more than a few feet from the base of ASSET’s descent element. The two men unloaded their supplies and reboarded ASSET once more. This was enough work for the day, and the crew spent their remaining wakeful hours unpacking their personal equipment, eating their final meal of the day and preparing for sleep. The lights went out inside ASSET, and the three men fell asleep in their bunks.

Capcom: Gooooooooooooooood Morning Tranquility!

The three men stumbled out of bed, beginning a morning routine which had become just that, routine. If it weren’t for the windows in ASSET’s hull, showing the desolate landscape around them, you could be forgiven for mistaking the base for a submarine. The crew brushed their teeth, rinsed their hair and took warm showers using the shower pioneered for skylab. Once the crew was ready for their day, breakfast began, then experiments, lunch, experiments, dinner and sleep again. The cycle continued for weeks with periodic EVA’s and drives around the lunar surface.

Life on the moonbase had become somewhat expected. Americans knew they had humans on the moon at almost all times for the past two years, and it was almost taken for granted. For the astronauts though, this was far from the truth, their time spent on the base was spent pushing the envelope of science and technology; As Scott and Lawrence suited up for their week long drive to and from one of the tallest mountains on the far side, the feeling was much the same. This was about exploration, this was about pushing the envelope and making discoveries.

As the fourth week of the crew’s lunar stay came and went, preparations began for their longest drive of the mission; The crew would be visiting Tsiolkovsky crater, mapping its terrain and exploring the shallow slopes of the mountain using LRV’s. The crew packed two Lunar Roving Vehicles, their week of supplies, plus an additional four weeks of contingency supplies. In addition to this, Molab’s fuel cell tanks were topped off, allowing the rover to survive in darkness for up to 2 weeks when operating on limited power. With all their preparations in order, the crew were ready; David Scott and Robert Lawrence boarded Molab the morning of Sol-32 of their mission, and set out for the crater, a whopping 300km drive.

This drive would be the longest done so far by a lunar crew, however it was done with good planning. The terrain was relatively mild, and Molab proved more than capable of making the trek across the surface. The crew spent most of their days driving, taking small stops to recharge the rover’s batteries, and gather surface samples as they went; By the end of Sol-36, the crew had arrived at the rim of Tsiolkovskiy, beginning their descent into the crater the following morning.

Capcom: Good Morning 31!

Scott: Mornin Jack, how are we looking for descent?

Capcom: Flight is telling me that based on the photographs you have transmitted, we should be good to proceed to the first plateau, from there we’ll assess the remaining descent.

Scott: Sounds good, me and Rob will get these wheels a-turning and be down there shortly.

Capcom: Sounds good, got any further questions you two?

Lawrence: Nah, I think we’ve got it-

Capcom: Roger that, well then we’ll leave you to it, let us know if you need roadside assistance-

Scott: Sounds good babe, will do.

The two men plunged into the crater, beginning their slow drive down the wall of Tsiolkovskiy. As the crew reached their first stop, Plateau-A, they parked the rover and transmitted further photographs to mission controllers at Houston. This was by far the most dangerous portion of the trek, and controllers were taking care to prevent disaster from striking. Scott and Lawrence waited idly as mission controllers determined the two mens best descent path based on their photographs; Before long, a mission plan was sent to the two men, taking the slowest and shallowest decline into the crater, being sure to drive around any unforeseen obstacles along their way. Doing this led the crew to their destination at the bottom of Tsiolkovskiy, finishing their nearly 1km descent into the crater.

Scott: Alrighty flight, we’ve put her in park. We’re stopping here for the night and we’ll get back to you in the morning-

Capcom: Sounds good Dave, I’ll be on capcom tomorrow as well, so if anything comes up you know where to find me.

Scott: Roger, goodnight Houston.

The two went to sleep, waking the next morning to new music playing on their radio. When new music was released on Earth, the spouses of those on the moon would often send in requests to local radio stations in Texas to have their music played first over the radio, then through Capcom’s microphone for the astronauts to hear-

Capcom: This is KAFM Dallas, Rock Underground, Coming to you live from planet Earth at the request of Barbra Lawrence, here is Queen’s latest single, We will rock you!

Lawrence: Tell Barb I miss her,

Capcom: Will do bud.

Scott: Not much of a Queen man myself, but this aint bad-

Lawrence: (Laughing) She’s always had good taste

…

Capcom: Alright you two, Today’s objective will be to reach the main peak, from there you can depart the lab, and use the LRV to explore a bit and take pictures.

Scott: Sounds good, I’ll start her up-

The crew headed northwest, reaching the inner base of the crescent shaped mountain. From here, the crew spent nearly a week exploring at the base of the formation; Utilizing the LRV’s the two men could explore a majority of the crater from their position, documenting lava tubes and cave formations as they went. This allowed scientists to create detailed geographical maps of the region, one day hoping for humans to even attempt summiting the mountain. However for now, their goal was to document the region;

And document they did, after gathering surface samples and photographs, and planting several surface analysis instruments , the two men returned to their rover. From here they started up the rovers drive train once more, beginning the slow trip back to the crater’s rim. At first the rovers' wheels struggled to turn, but before long the motors reached full speed, and the rover began its journey across the mare. Once the two men reached the crater rim, photographs were once again transmitted to Houston, allowing mission controllers to help the two men navigate their way out of the crater, as they had dozens of times before. The plan was decided upon, and the crew took a sharp left turn, driving up the seemingly smoothest portion of the crater rim.

Meanwhile, Lenoir had been analyzing both 31’s and previous missions' surface samples, as well as monitoring a number of experiments that had been ongoing aboard ASSET for months. The base was healthy, and was producing a plethora of scientific data. As his two colleagues traversed the lunar surface, Lenoir remained inside, largely maintaining the base. However, a number of biological, geological and chemical experiments came to a screeching halt that evening-

Lawrence: Uhhh Houston, come in.

Capcom: Roger you 31, go ahead-

Scott: Houston, we’ve had a problem.

The rover had lost traction, in attempting to avoid a small boulder ahead, Scott had deviated from his path, leading the rover to a small crevasse. The front right-hand wheel was now dug into the small dip in the ground, and thus had limited traction. Try as they might, Neither Scott nor Lawrence could get their tire unstuck. The wheel had become hopelessly buried in the regolith, any time it caught even the slightest traction, it seemed to dig itself deeper. The crew began suit-up procedures, and prepared to go assess their situation.

Scott: Alright flight, be advised we are disembarking.

Capcom: Roger that Dave.

Scott: Shit…

Lawrence: She’s real stuck alright.

The crew reverted to their first line of defense, a carjack. It was assumed that if the wheel lodged itself into a hole, a device similar to a carjack could be used to free the rover. At first it appeared to be working, the rover rising out of the hole, but then the astronauts realized the extent of the damage. In lifting the rover off the ground, they had deformed the tire, and gotten the rover’s wheel even further lodged into the crack.

Scott: (Garbled) Damn!

Capcom: Come again?

Lawrence: It’s looking bad, Houston, real bad.

Capcom: What’s happening you two?

Scott: The tire’s busted. Even if we could get out, we’re not gonna get anywhere.

(Molab Stranded on the Surface.)

Capcom: Roger. Well then, let’s assess the situation.

The crew was stuck, and they knew that despite their best efforts, unlike previous fumbles with the rover, there was no getting out of this one. An emergency was called, and the crew began their procedures. Lenoir was notified of the situation, but asked to remain calm and keep his position until given further instructions. There was a chance he may still fly home with his colleagues, but as the day went on, the chances were looking slimmer and slimmer…

Capcom: Alright, are we declaring an emergency?

Scott: That’s affirm, the rover’s stuck, nothing we can do.

Capcom: O-okay, let’s start getting her ready.

LOG: Sol 39: Me and Rob spent the majority of the day digging regolith off the surface and plastering it onto the rover. Mission control says this should protect us in the case of a solar storm, however I’m not so sure. We’re gonna be here for a while, and the sun is setting soon. Within 2 days we will be running on fuel cells, which means we’re gonna have to keep communications and systems to a minimum. We’re gonna get through this alive, just don’t know how comfortable we’ll be. Regardless, trying to keep morale up, maybe gonna try reading one of the books I brought or doing a puzzle with Rob, sorry he had to get stuck in this, starting to feel like it was my fault.

Capcom: Alright you two, we’re gonna be listening for any transmissions you send us, just be sure to conserve power, we’ll have 31R down there as soon as we can get em off the pad.

Lawrence: Roger that John, we’ll keep you updated as needed.

The two men went to sleep, their rover running on as limited a power draw as Houston could manage. Basic telemetry and minimized communications were kept online, but interior and exterior cameras, as well as driving systems were completely powered down. The astronauts prepared for their wait, within days they would plunge into darkness. The following day, further systems were powered down, and the fuel cells were brought to life. The men now sat in a rover largely buried in regolith. Their only view of the world outside came though the rovers rear airlock, they slowly watched with a mix of awe and dread as the sun set over the crater rim that evening.

LOG: Sol 40: We’re in darkness, the suits have been folded, cuz we’re not gonna be going on a walk for some time now. Hopefully Gus can get down here quickly, and can get us back soon. Circumstances aren’t great, but at least we have a backup plan now, it wasn't a luxury they gave us on my last flight. Rob’s holding up well, as am I. I still think we’re gonna make it out of this alright. Houston’s continuing to send us wake up calls, just to make sure we stick to a circadian rhythm, they say it's for our own good, but it’s damn annoying now that we’re stuck.

LOG: Sol 42: Heard a weird noise stirring one of the fuel cell tanks, kinda spooked me, but it seems to just be some frozen oxygen. Gonna turn on the heater briefly, as instructed by Capcom.

Lawrence: You think heating up pure oxygen’s a good idea?

Scott: Don’t have another option, we can’t let that shit freeze.

Lawrence: Fair point. I suppose we’ll wait and see…

Stirring and periodic heating proved to do the trick, and before long the rover returned to an extent of normalcy. The men were stuck, but making the most of it, their craft was hardened against the elements, and as far as anyone could know would stand the test of time. Before long, the first week had gone by, and final preparations of Apollo 31R were underway. The mission followed an expedited preparation schedule, aided by the fact that all non-time sensitive checks had been done in the weeks prior. Gus Grissom and Richard Gordon began their final preparations, scheduled to lift off in just under a week.

#children of apollo #COA #alternate history #spaceflight #kerbal space program #kerbal #Youtube

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agalaxyofapocalypticinfinity · 5 months

Text

come back, stick together

Scott, mother’s calling you home!

*******

when you were little

she used to protect you

keep you in her arms

wouldn’t let you get harmed

*******

she fed you, raised you

till now, who you’ve become

whenever, you needed help

she always gave a hand

*******

don’t make her sad

darling, you know what to do

*******

a family shouldn’t separate

you can’t anymore rebel

teenager, still pretty young

listen to her words

she says she can change

so come back, stick together

*******

as she grows older

sometimes please hold her hands

you will feel the rough

deep inside her skin

*******

taking care of three kids

don’t make more trouble

everyone knows she loves you

take a step before you leap

*******

don’t make her sad

darling, you know what to do

*******

a family shouldn’t separate

you can’t anymore rebel

teenager, still pretty young

listen to her words

she says she can change

so come back, stick together

*******

Scott, mother’s calling you home

not mature enough

i’m gonna slap you in the face

or pour you a bucket of iced water

wake up, you have to wake up

*******

a family shouldn’t separate

you can’t anymore rebel

teenager, still pretty young

listen to her words

she says she can change

so come back, stick together

-- remi, 2014

#a galaxy of apocalyptic infinity #remivfoliage #writing #mood journal #politics

0 notes

applescabs · 10 months

Text

i felt like garbage when i woke up but attested that to the fact i only slept 2,5 hours from sat to sun, and then went to bed at 11.30 on son only to wake up at 6 on mon. so i kept snoozing for hours until i eventually went out of bed. like at 10 something or whatever.

i showered and ate 2 sandwiches but i could literally feel myself getting sick. like nauseous af. and that isnt unusual for me because eating food has been rlly hard for me. but it felt different this time.

read scott pilgrim vol4 up until the halfway point. but i kept getting the feeling like i was gonna get the feeling of needing to puke. so i tried to throw up. i couldnt.

i then gave up reading and went to bed until 3-ish

woke up and i dont remember what i did. then i actually started getting puke-feeling flashes. tried to throw up again, somewhat successfully. it was mostly water at this point.

after that i felt ok enough to watch the new migi and dali, but had to stop when the ed played because i felt rlly bad again.

i dont exactly remember what i did. at this point i was kind of delirious from nausea. i tried to lay down again but then went downstairs to explain i was sick to my moms bf. he got me a basin and some tea with honey and ginger. then i laid back down.

its a good thing he got me the basin cause i was feeling those puke flashes hardcore. i was too nauseous to write so i text to speeched "wat helpt tegen kotsneigingen" and as i was reading i literally threw up everything still left in my stomach. 2 sandwiches. and so much water.

i feel kind of ok now but i fear im gonna feel bad again really soon. im drinking that tea rn but im scared its just gonna come right out.

this was supposed to be the day i finally went back to school. goddammit.

im either sick because of my sister (just recovered, spent sunday with her) or my moms bf (is ok today but was super sick on sunday) or me and my moms bf both got food poisoning from those fucking grillworst plakjes they keep in the freezer

#this story is abt getting sick and its kinda detailed n gross but.#im more or less using this site as a personal diary anyways.#appleyaps

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wisteriasxx · 3 years

Text

a/n: had this in the drafts since tfatws finished streaming and I forgot to post it but here haha

18+

Warnings: Weed, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex

Smoke sesh with Marvel characters 🍃

this one is for all my stoner marvel fans💕 just my thoughts on what it would be like to smoke with some of our favs✨

———————————————————————

Steve

Well considering Steve is a super soldier, he can’t get drunk or high..........BUT for the sake of this let’s just pretend he can ;)

It would probably take loads of convincing for him to even try the stuff

If he decides to try it, he’s only taking one hit.

High Steve is definitely just super chill, and really cuddly, he’s gonna grab you and just hold you for the rest of the night.

When it comes time for munchies he will literally eat anything, but his favorite snack when the munchies hit is Mozzarella sticks.

He’ll start talking about how things were back in the 40’s, including how crazy the youth is today with this stuff you’ve just given him.

Tony

We all know that Tony is KNOWN for being a party animal, so he’s definitely down for a lil sesh with the avengers

Tony definitely likes to drink more then he would smoking, but he’ll still smoke.

Probably owns a dab pen with indica for for his anxiety

Prefers indica but will settle for a hybrid (sativa and indica)

Gets really giggly and even more sarcastic when he’s high

Will not move from his current place of rest, someone will have to bring him food when the munchies come or he will complain the entire time

Favorite munchies food is potato chips

High tony will definitely accidentally start spilling your secrets in front of people, you might have to physically shut him up somehow

Thor

Will give you a funny look when you hand him a joint or a pen or whatever it is that your using.

He’ll understand that you smoke it, but he’ll think it’s just tobacco or something

Before you can tell him what it actually is he’s already taken a couple of big hits

Once you tell him what it is that he’s smoking and what it does, the only response you’ll get is “this tastes funny and it will have no effect on me because I am mighty”

Fast forward to ten minutes later of Thor being loud and laughing at everything and just being an absolute goofball

Will eat and drink everything in sight once the munchies hit for him

“Where can I get more of this midgaurdian herb!??!!?!!” He’ll yell from the couch

Like Steve, he’ll get grabby and just wanna hold you the entire time. If you’re standing he’s gonna stand behind you with his arms wrapped around you and his chin resting on ur head. If you’re sitting he’s putting his arm around you and pulling you close.

Definitely ends with him passed out on the floor

Natasha

When she sees everyone playing “puff puff pass”, she’ll roll her eyes.

“What are you guys in high school or something?”

She will insist that she wants nothing to do with it, but after tony makes some remark about it, she decides to prove him wrong.

After a hit or two, Nat becomes more comfortable, she becomes less uptight.

Likes to shoot out more sarcastic one liners then usual

Becomes very flirty ;)

She gets smiley but in a tired way

In fact, She doesn’t stay awake very long after she’s had a hit or two in her system, she gets too tired and calls it a night

By “calls it a night” I mean she basically droops onto you and refuses to move, you’ll have to move her if you want to.

Doesn’t get the munchies because she’s asleep before she can

Clint

Clint will take a hit or two, just because why not? He could use the relaxation

He’s super chill when he’s high, he keeps to himself

He’s quiet when he’s high, but that’s just because he’s vibing, he’s taking in the music or just simply listening to the nearest conversation.

Wears sunglasses the whole time because he doesn’t want anyone to see his red eyes

He doesn’t really get munchies, he just chills the entire time

You can’t tell if he’s asleep or if he’s just vibing

Will only give one word answers if you ask him something

Not the most fun to smoke with but he’s just chilling and minding his own business so he’s welcome.

Loki

Will look at you with irritable confusion when you offer him a hit

When you tell him what it is and what it will do to him he’ll simply ask, “why would I want to do that?”

He won’t do it in front of anyone, that would mean letting his guard down and becoming vulnerable

He will definitely try it later in private though

When he’s high, he’ll want you to join him

He’s still basically loki when he’s high, he’s just more relaxed

“This is quite nice I must say.”

There will definitely be a conversation about how he can’t believe this is what mortals do for fun

He’ll become a little more open with you because he’s more relaxed

He’ll become confused when the munchies hit, but after you tell him it’s normal he’ll go with it

His favorite munchie food is definitely popcorn

I’m gonna flat out say it, high loki has a higher sex drive

Gets lost in the moment type of guy

In his opinion, the weed helps him block out everything else except for you, and that’s why he likes it

His mischief meter also skyrockets, you thought normal loki was good at pulling tricks? Just wait till you see how creative high loki can get

Bucky

Bucky is gonna look at you like your crazy

Then he’ll remember that he is also crazy, and figures the weed might help ease his mind a little.

Bucky becomes more relaxed when he’s high, his guard has dropped a little, but he’s still aware of his surroundings.

He’s funnier when he’s high

Smiles more which makes you smile because you think he doesn’t smile enough

He still does the staring thing when he’s high, but it’s not as intimidating now, there’s a softer look in his eyes and a small smile on his face

Will open up a little more about his feelings towards you

After his first time trying weed, he’ll get some cbd gummies or something on a regular basis to help relax him

When the munchies hit for him, he’ll eat anything, but his favorite munchie food is anything Italian.

He just wants to cuddle man

Wanda

Wanda is surprisingly chill

She’s more open, more humorous, and even nicer.

her magic can resemble her current state of mind if she wants it to

So when she’s high, her magic becomes really pretty and elegant, like it’s in slow motion

In fact, she glows a little when she’s high

She’ll make her magic do pretty things for your entertainment

Due to her magic though, I feel that her high wouldn’t last very long

For her, smoking is just a quick little get away from her mind, something that just takes the edge off a little

Doesn’t get munchies

Prefers indica

Peter (quill)

He’s never had earth weed, but he’s definitely smoked and drank all kinds of substances through out the galaxy

Definitely likes sativa

He’s down for whatever, he likes to try new things

He’ll complain about the taste, but then love the way he’s feeling in 10 minutes

He becomes very stupid when he’s high

He’ll turn his favorite music on full volume and just start doing things, he won’t be able to sit still.

He’ll try to do things to keep himself entertained, but he’ll be bad at doing them because he’s high

When later or the next day comes when he’s sober, he’ll look at the evidence of him trying to do whatever it was he was trying to do and be totally confused, but not surprised

When the munchies hit, he’ll eat anything he can find on the ship that’s edible

It will end with him passed out in some weird spot on the ship or wherever he’s at

He once got high and woke up cuddling with Drax-

Gamora

Will not smoke

The designated driver

The “chaperone” of the night

Sam Wilson

When you offer him a hit, he’ll be unsure and say something like “man I haven’t done something this stupid since high school, I don’t know”

But he says “screw it” to himself and takes a couple of hits

Becomes really smiley when he’s high, like the dude won’t stop smiling. It irritates Bucky.

Definitely will start singing out of nowhere, even if there’s no music playing

He’s also gonna tell crazy stories about his past, things from high school stories to military stories

He livens up the session for sure, after a few hits in, he makes it his goal for the night to make everyone happy and vibing along with him

When the munchies hit for sam, he goes straight for pizza. This man absolutely loooovesss pizza when he’s inebriated

Dr.Strange

Is obviously familiar with the substance

Definitely used to do it all the time in college (helped with the stress of med school)

Will question if it’s the best choice for everyone to be making right now

Most likely will not do it, it wouldn’t look good if the sorcerer supreme was getting high

You’ll ask him if he knows some kind of spell that can sober you up

He’ll tell you “yes” and proceed to hand you a water bottle and roll his eyes

He’ll do the portal thing above you and a bunch of your favorite snacks will land on your lap when the munchies come

He’ll take care of you once you pass out, carrying you to your bed or your couch or whatever and setting a glass of water near you before he leaves you alone

Scott Lang

Oh yeah, he’s definitely taking a couple hits

Prefers bongs

Prefers hybrid blends (sativa and indica)

This man knows his kush okay? Would not be surprised if he had a plug, or if he was the plug

Weed makes him more productive, he’ll start doing things and multi tasking, he’ll do anything from messing around in the suit to playing rock band

Chinese take out is this mans go to munchie food, nothing brings him greater joy then inhaling wonton soup or lo mein when he’s high

He’s bringing his friends too, there’s no arguing

Like Sam, he livens the session up

Somehow become bolder, dumber and flirty at the same time when he’s high

When he comes down though, he comes down hard, and sometimes literally.

He’ll pass out or fall asleep in the weirdest places, but he’ll be enjoying it and wake up feeling well rested somehow

Bonus cuz i think it’s funny ++

John walker

Will be all cocky about taking a hit, thinking it won’t affect him or that it’ll make him cooler or something dumb

Gets scared and paranoid

Starts literally tweaking and saying stuff like “they’re coming for me”

Freaks out because he can’t handle the kush in his system

Definitely locks himself in the bathroom and cries, calls Lamar to come pick him up

Ends up becoming a hazard for everyone, so Bucky has to knock him out cold

Will probably snitch on everyone for smoking just because he had a bad time with it and he’s just jealous that he can’t vibe correctly

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