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tongue-like-a-razor · 1 year

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Less Talk | Part V

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: Jake can't stand Bradley's best friend. What's more, he's probably in love with her, which really pisses him off.

CW: swearing, pining, unresolved sexual tension, slow af burn

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Masterlist

Jake is watching you shift your weight back and forth in your heels with a mixture apprehension and exhilaration. You’ve got your arms crossed over your chest as though you’re severely irritated, but you haven’t left yet. Which is a good sign. He’s barely looking at your legs; smooth and shiny and perfectly illuminated by the string lights adorning the patio of the Hard Deck.

He’s still wrapping his head around the fact that you are, as of five or so minutes ago, unattached. You’re single. Jake could kiss you right now. You’d probably punch him but he almost thinks it might be worth it.

He shuts his eyes briefly, trying to clear his mind of your pouting lips, and your pretty hair, and your goddamn legs. “So,” he says finally. “You want a ride?”

You look up at him sharply. “From you?” you ask in mild disgust.

Jake takes comfort in the fact that your aversion seems relatively minimal considering he just sucker punched your boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. He gives you a flat look. “No, from the Tooth Fairy,” he retorts sarcastically. “Yes, from me.”

Your mouth parts as though you’re about to say something but, instead, you graze your teeth over your bottom lip. Jake, in turn, sort of forgets how to exhale for a moment. “Okay,” you say quietly. “Thanks.”

It takes him a moment before he realizes that you’ve somehow, miraculously agreed to his offer but, when he does, he springs into action. “Let’s go,” he says, hoping the casual words are enough to offset the tension in his tone. He extends an arm to point you in the direction of his truck.

You make your way to the passenger door and he follows you, pulling on the handle and holding his hand out to help you climb inside.

“It’s a bit of a step,” he says as you lift your foot into the cab.

You give him a cryptic look before placing your hand in his, a faint smile materializing on your face in response to the gesture. Jake cautiously returns your smile, not quite ready to let his guard down.

You lean your weight into him as you lift yourself off the ground and Jake manages to keep you steady despite his attention being almost entirely usurped by your ass which hovers invitingly in front of his face before you land gently on the seat.

“Thanks,” you say.

Jake breathes out wearily, resting one arm over the open door and the other on top of the roof as he peers into the vehicle. “You okay?” he asks.

You eye him suspiciously. “Yeah, why?”

Jake squints slightly, running his tongue across his teeth in thought. “You haven’t insulted my ride yet,” he says. “You know this thing is a gas guzzler, right?” He pats the roof of the truck.

You smile at him. “Well, give me a minute,” you respond, getting comfortable in the seat. “Let me get situated.”

Jake chuckles, pulling on the seatbelt behind your head and placing it in your hand. “Take all the time you need,” he says, briefly meeting your gaze.

You glance around the cab which, to Jake’s relief, he just recently cleaned. “I mean, if you want my opinion” – you say, but Jake cuts you off with a laugh.

“I think you and I both know,” he says, sliding your seat back to give you more leg room, “that I can’t get enough of your opinions.”

Your smile widens as you glance at him in amusement. “The clearance of your pickup makes it especially dangerous for other vehicles on the road.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “It makes it especially safe for its passengers in a collision,” he says.

“For you,” you reply pointedly. “Your bed sits so high off the ground, it can go right through somebody’s windshield.”

Jake scoffs. “They should get a truck, then.”

You sigh. “It always comes down to ‘what’s best for Jake?’, doesn’t it?”

He blinks at you. “I don’t like this game anymore.”

You purse your lips and look away, buckling your seatbelt. “You asked for it.”

“I just thought we could talk about fuel economy or the bumpy ride,” he says, feeling slightly deflated. “It certainly ain’t no Mustang.”

You glance at him curiously. “It’s definitely a little rough around the edges,” you say.

Jake takes this as a personal attack and immediately starts defending his truck. “Might be a bit less polished than you’re used to,” he says. “But it’s a hell of a lot tougher.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Mustang’s probably faster.”

Jake narrows his eyes. “You like fast?” he asks.

You let out a laugh. “Not typically.”

Jake pauses to ponder over what that might mean. Then, he gives his head a slight shake and continues, “Truck has more power.”

“Mustang is a muscle car.”

Jake stares at you irritably. “Do you even know what that means?”

“It means it’s just as powerful as your truck with less weight to carry.”

“Truck has higher torque,” Jake retorts.

“What the fuck is torque?”

“The truck is bigger,” Jake continues, ignoring your question as he affectionately strokes the roof of the cab.

You press your lips together to hold back a grin. “Are we still talking about the car?”

Jake glances back at you with a smirk. “Truck’s more reliable,” he says.

Your eyes meet his as you consider his words at length. Finally, you look away, settling deeper into the seat. “Won’t know until you give me a ride, will I?”

Jake nods with a soft chuckle and closes your door. He stands for a moment outside the passenger side door, marvelling at the fact that each successive conversation he has with you seems to be his favorite one yet. He walks around the back of the truck, spinning his keys around his index finger as his heart performs a series of well-meaning flips in his chest, to which he doesn’t take too kindly. He climbs into his seat and sticks the key into the ignition, glancing over at you with a mischievous grin. “Mustang probably doesn’t even have a key,” he says.

You snort. “It’s called a key fob.”

“Oh, is that what it’s called?” Jake asks facetiously, turning over the engine.

“Starts the car all the same,” you respond with a shrug.

Jake reaches out to grab the back of your headrest as he looks over his shoulder to reverse. “I prefer the classic key in lock scenario. Guess I’m old school like that.”

You give him a withering look. “You would.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, turning out of the parking lot.

“I mean, the idea of inserting a phallic object into a fitted slot would entice a simple-minded man such as yourself,” you say smugly. “But, just so you know, there are other ways to get a motor running.”

Jake eyes you with amusement. “Enlighten me.” He would love to see how far you could take this metaphor.

You shrug. “You could hot-wire. Bypass the lock cylinder altogether.”

Jake laughs. “Depends on the car, of course,” he notes.

You shake your head with a chuckle. “I think this is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had.”

Jake glances at you with a smirk, his gaze slipping briefly to watch you rest your hands over your bare thighs. He grips the steering wheel tighter to refrain from reaching over and placing a palm over your leg. “Every conversation I have with you is fucking weird, Y/N,” he responds.

You scoff. “You’re blaming me for the weird?”

Jake grins, watching the road ahead. “You’re the weird one.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you cross your arms. “C’mon, you’re not offended, are you? Weird is good,” he says. “Weird is interesting.”

You turn your head to look at him and he grimaces at his slip. “You think I’m interesting?” you ask.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You said that I’m weird and that weird is interesting,” you reason. “Ergo –”

“Please don’t say ‘ergo’.” Jake cringes.

You reach across the console to smack his shoulder.

Jake ducks with a laugh. “Don’t hit the driver!”

“Don’t be an ass, then,” you retort.

Jake steals a glance at you with a smirk. You’re shaking your head but you’re smiling, so he forms the split-second decision to make a detour, turning toward the beach.

“Where are you going?” you ask, noticing the change in course.

“It’s a surprise,” Jake responds, eyeing you cautiously.

You lean forward and squint into the darkness. “Are you heading for the beach?”

“What part of ‘it’s a surprise’ don’t you understand?”

You slump back into your seat with a resigned sigh. “Fine, I’ll be patient.”

“Sure, you will,” Jake replies skeptically, turning into a parking lot.

You peek out of your window at the stairs in the distance leading down toward the water. “Are you planning on going for a swim, Seresin?”

Jake pulls on the handbrake and takes the key out of the ignition. He looks over at you with a grin. “Not without you,” he says.

You start laughing. “No way.”

He shrugs. “Another time, then.”

“What are we doing here?”

“Well, I feel kind of bad for ruining your night,” he says. “Thought maybe I could make it up to you.” He pulls on his doorhandle and hops out of the cab. Walking around, he finds that you’ve already got your door open and your leg out of the truck, a heeled foot dangling about fifteen inches off the pavement. He reaches in to take your hand.

“Thanks,” you say, wrapping your fingers around his and stepping out.

Jake pulls a blanket out from the backseat before shutting the door while you watch him with furrowed brows. “Come,” he says, ushering you toward the back of the truck. He walks around back and lowers the tailgate, then he throws the blanket down onto the bed. “Hop on,” he says.

You look at him suspiciously. “Why?”

“To play duck, duck, goose, what do you think?” he responds flatly.

You stare at him, unamused. “I don’t know what to think,” you say pointedly, but you turn around and place your hands on the tailgate.

Jake grabs your waist as you hop and helps you land your bottom onto the blanket. Then, he jumps onto the bed and sits himself down beside you.

“Now what?” you ask, a note of cynicism in your voice.

“Now, we count the stars.” Jake lets out a sigh and lays his back down onto the truck bed, resting his hands over his chest.

You glance down at him in disbelief. “You’re not fucking serious.”

“Well, not about the counting part.”

You lift your eyebrows and lower yourself backward onto your elbows, still watching Jake. “This is absurd,” you say.

Jake glances at you with a serious expression. “Well, don’t watch me. The show’s up there.”

You look up to see a meteor cut across the inky sky and gasp. “Oh my god! Did you see that?” you squeal, pointing upward.

Jake laughs. “I saw about five while you were sulking.”

“Wow,” you breathe, staring at the night sky as the meteor shower continues overhead. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Get comfortable,” Jake says, nudging your elbow with his shoulder. “This only happens a few times a year.”

You rest your back on the blanket and Jake glances at you furtively as you blink up in awe. “You cold?” he asks. “Want to wrap the blanket around yourself?” he offers.

“Yeah, sure,” you respond absently.

Jake lifts himself onto his forearm and leans over you to grab the edge of the blanket. You glance up at him as he reaches and Jake, thrown completely off his game by the proximity of your face, freezes and stares at you like an idiot. There are about a dozen things he could say or do that might persuade you to dismiss the meteor shower in favor of less dignified pursuits. But Jake is convinced that, even if you were to temporarily let your guard down, you’re not the type of girl he can just get out of his system. And, truthfully, at this point, he probably wouldn’t want to.

You look away first, your gaze focusing instead on his arm, still stretched over your head, mid-reach. Jake fumbles with the corner of the blanket, suddenly aware that he’s been perched over your body for a solid thirty seconds, and pulls it over you as he moves away. “Thanks,” you mutter.

Jake squints up at the sky with a partially suppressed sigh and brings his hands behind his head. “We won’t stay for long if you’re uncomfortable,” he says. “Let me know if it gets too cold.”

You turn your head to look at him, but he keeps his gaze squarely on the heavens. A moment later, however, you’re shifting yourself closer and Jake, without a second thought, extends his arm out so that you could rest your head on his shoulder. He nearly jumps out of his skin when you drape an icy leg over his, cozying up to the warmth of his body. “I’m comfortable,” you say quietly, tucking your frozen hands under his back.

Jake winces.

“Sorry!” You laugh.

He takes his hand out from under his head and holds it out for you. “Here,” he says, reaching for your hands. Tentatively, you put your balled up fists into his palm and he closes his fingers around them. “Better?” he asks, resting your cold hands over his chest.

“Mm-hmm,” you respond softly, and Jake all but melts.

After a short while of watching meteors streak across the sky without really seeing them, Jake brings his arm up around your shoulder, gently pulling you closer. “You warming up?” he asks.

He feels your body shift further into his side. “Yeah,” you say.

Jake swallows nervously and clears his throat. “Sorry I punched your… Mustang.”

You snort. “Sure, you are.”

He smiles. “Well, I am sorry that it upset you.”

“That’s funny,” you mutter. “You usually go out of your way to upset me.”

Jake cringes. “That makes me sound like an asshole.”

“Hate to break it to you, Seresin,” you respond with a chuckle.

Jake purses his lips. “I guess I deserve that.”

You stir and then sit up slowly, looking down at him. “I accept your apology,” you say.

He nods and lifts himself up. “You ready to get going?”

“Probably should.” You look down at the clock on your phone. “It’s getting pretty late.”

Jake hops off the bed of the truck and then helps you get down, perhaps holding your waist a little tighter than necessary in the process. He walks you toward the passenger door.

“One time I asked Mustang,” you say, glancing over your shoulder at Jake with a playful grin, “if we could drive out into the middle of nowhere and lounge on the hood of his car and just, I don’t know, see if we can make out any constellations.” Jake watches you purse your lips and lower your head. You let out a bitter laugh and Jake furrows his eyebrows. “He said there’s no way in hell we could sit on his car because we could scratch the paint or leave a dent or –”

But before you could finish your thought, Jake bends down to hook his arm under your knees and you yelp in alarm as he lifts you off the ground and sets you down on the hood of his truck. You hold your arms out to balance yourself when he lets go and turn to look at him in shock, hanging your legs off the side. Jake leans into the hood, his arms on either side of your legs. “He didn’t let you sit on his car?” he asks in disgust.

You chuckle lightly and shake your head. “He wouldn’t even let me lean on it.”

Jake stares at you, bewildered. “You are really making me want to key that damn Mustang.”

Your eyes widen but your smile remains. “Are you kidding? That would be so much worse than beating him up. That car is his most prized possession.”

Jake glances over your face with a mixture of pity and disbelief. “And he had you.”

You scoff. “I’m not a possession.”

Jake patiently holds your gaze, confident that Mustang saw you as exactly that, and, prompted by a flicker of courage – or perhaps weakness – he lets his thumb graze the bare skin of your outer thigh. He studies you carefully, preparing himself for a wide range of possible reactions, but you don’t move a muscle. Your eyes bore into his, effectively disrupting every thought process in his head while simultaneously setting fire to his insides. He wants you so badly, he’s probably never wanted anything more in his life. And yet, even within his reach, you continue to be unattainable.

He exhales, finally looking away. Jake isn’t the kind of guy who cares terribly about right and wrong. In fact, a state of obvious vulnerability would be something he might have previously taken advantage of. But not tonight. And not with you.

Jake backs away from the hood, leaving you sitting solo. “Go ahead and scratch it up,” he says nonchalantly, as though the paint job is still the only topic of conversation. “You ain’t gonna hurt it.” He glances up to see you smiling at him and grins back. “I could put you on the roof if you like. You could dance on it. Just don’t fall off.”

You laugh. “Is this all part of your ploy to prove that the truck is superior?”

Jake smirks. “Have I convinced you?”

“I mean, it’s not without its flaws,” you say, tapping on the hood with your palm while you swing your feet.

Jake raises his eyebrows. “Well, completely flawless would be boring.”

You nod. “Let’s just say I’m pleasantly surprised.”

Jake chuckles, shaking his head. “I’ll take it.”

Read Part 6

A/N: Wooh hope you guys liked this one!! Someone requested stargazing and Hangman for my 3k celebration last week and it was so hard for me to not be like just wait for the next chapter of Less Talk! XD Love you guys!!

Muah!

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snugglylime · 27 days

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JWCT Countdown Day #1: Favorite Character - Yaz

This is a snippet from my Isla Sorna AU (read more here) about Yaz having a nightmare like she had in season 4. Sorry girly <3

One moment she’s staring at the corrugated ceiling of the ACU van, and the next she’s looking up through a web of sunlight piercing the overhead foliage. She instinctively raises her hand to block the light, but the movement is sluggish, weighed down by the kind of exhaustion she only feels after a particularly grueling track meet.

Or, she realizes with a sinking feeling in her gut, after she’s been running for her life.

A surge of panic spurs her to her feet but she only manages to stumble a few inches forward. The impossibly thick carpet of intertwined roots and thickets clutch at her feet, shackling her in place. And oh God this is not the place she wants to be.

The jungle looms and sways all around her, rippling thickly in the wind. As she struggles to move, the sound of it folding in on itself gets louder and more violent, eventually turning to a deafening crash of leaves on leaves and whatever else has the misfortune of getting trapped in the maelstrom.

Despite the warm rush of wind against her cheeks, she shivers.

She falls back with a gasp and frantically glances around, narrowing her focus to the dark tunnels formed by the gaps between tree trunks and the flat arms of ferns, the ends of which could conceal any number of dangers.

A small voice in the back of her head reminds her that this isn’t Isla Nublar and that she’s survived much worse than whatever a remote island in the Pacific boonies can throw her way. But that voice only grows smaller as she hears the distinctive crunching of leaves followed by rhythmic tremors beneath her fingertips in the dirt.

She shuts her eyes and immediately curls in on herself, trembling with the knowledge that she’s trapped, frozen in place as the roar of the wind gives way to the shuffle of heavy limbs and the strained breathing of an animal unaccustomed to the sun-soaked air.

She keeps her eyes screwed shut as she’s enveloped in a wash of hot air that smells like the dead meat she’s surely about to become. The light drains from her eyelids and teeth as big as her hands burst through the supple flesh of her arms.

She wakes up with a scream, but still, she wakes up.

The sensation of teeth puncturing her skin fades as the carcass of the ACU van materializes around her, a dark cylinder lit only by the thin threads of moonlight filtering through old, boltless holes in the roof.

“Yaz?”

She nearly jumps out of her skin before realizing that she’s not alone. In fact, she’s about as not alone as possible, being one of six kids stuffed into the back of a van already crowded with the alien tentacles of vines and the spindly tips of weeds growing up through the wheel wells.

Kenji, apparently having fallen from his perch on the wheel hood, lays sprawled across her legs, looking up at her in bewilderment. Sammy is at her back, rubbing soothing circles against her shoulders, and Brooklyn is in front of her, looking at her with the half-confident eyes of someone accustomed to failing to make others feel better.

Yaz resists the urge to extract herself from the mess of bodies, including her own. She wants to crawl out of her skin and into the grass, away from the friction of the group’s proximity in the van, and away away away from this nightmare she can’t seem to wake from.

But even if it is a nightmare, her friends are here, trying to calm her down to the best of their abilities. She focuses on the weight of Sammy’s arms around her waist, the feel of Kenji’s chest pressed to her thighs, and the assuring lilt of Brooklyn’s voice that she just now begins to hear.

“It’s okay Yaz,” Brooklyn says. “Just breathe.”

She does breathe, and she keeps breathing, one breath after another, until her heart stops wrestling with her ribs, and the tears she’s fought so hard to suppress spring to her eyes.

“I want to go home,” she whimpers.

She doesn’t need to look up to know that the others feel the same.

#i really shoulda written something nice and fluffy for yaz buuuut #this was in my drafts already >.< so sorry my girl #jwctcountdown #jwcc #yasmina fadoula #light yasammy #kenji kon #brooklyn #jurassic world camp cretaceous #isla sorna au #sorry this is a day late!! so excited for the coming prompts tho :>

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whyareyouhere66 · 2 years

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Darry Curtis x GN Reader- Coping Mechanism

Darry Curtis x Gender Neutral Reader

Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

CW: Implied body dysmorphia, depression/feeling of worthlessness. Angst. Reader seeing themselves as “ugly” or “chubby”. If any of these are triggering for you then I would not recommend reading this.

am I projecting a little bit/getting into my feels for this one shot? Yep, absolutely. But I need comfort and I need it now so y’all get to suffer through it with me.

There were many, many things y/n admired about Darry Curtis.

His hugs, his laugh, the way his muscles poked out of the tight shirts he wore. The way his greased-up bangs would fall in front of his face, or how his tongue would poke out slightly whenever he was really focused on something. From the “Good morning, sweetheart” to the “will ya tell the boys to quiet down? I’m tryna read the paper.”

Though it seemed that the line between “admiration” and “jealousy”, was beginning to blur.

Darry was the strongest man Y/n had ever met. Working two jobs, taking care of 2 kid-brothers, rent, meals, all by the age of 20. He’d lost both his parents, given up on his dreams and his childhood, but still somehow managed to keep it up. Everyday.

Which made it truly stand out, how pathetic Y/n truly was.

They had loving parents who raised them to the best of their abilities, a good education, and the average childhood.

Always having a roof over their head, food on the dinner table, and friends who cared for them. They had all they needed.

So why the hell, were they so close to breaking down?

How come anytime they looked in the mirror, the skin on their bones turned to blubber, spilling over the hem of their jeans. The bumps on their face brightening to the shade of a ripened apple, their hair getting greasy and flat only a day after showering.

Textbooks and homework packets piled into a school bag, stretching the straps and pulling on shoulders.

They had no right. Loving parents, loving friends, loving boyfriend.

They had.

No right.

The room was lonely, no one else but the h/c in the Curtis household. Sodapop and Darry had left for work hours ago, Ponyboy stuck in school. Y/n had skipped. Pathetic.

Buried under layers of blankets, wrapped in the cozy material they lay with their cheek pressed into the pillow. It was another “low” day, that’s what they had begun calling it- for they had no other way of describing it. “Low” days and “high” days, self explanatory.

Some days, such as this one, feel low like the skin of their stomach as it droops from their body. Low like their energy, any sort of motivation to even leave the comfort and warmth of Darry’s blankets.

Taking a glance at the clock across the room, y/n watched the hands ticking slowly.

‘16 more minutes…’

…

A couple more ticking noises. They check again.

‘15…’

Much like a dog awaiting its owner, y/n lay impatiently waiting for the eldest Curtis brother to arrive. It was his bed that they were all tangled in, his house. Only thing missing was him.

…

14 more minutes.

With an exasperated groan, they turn away from the clock. Maybe if they didn’t watch, it would happen faster.

Minutes slowly pass by, y/n’s eyelids drooping to a close. A suppressed yawn rumbled in their chest, dragging them closer to sleep until a familiar sound traveled through the house.

A front door rattling against a door frame, heavy boots creaking the floor boards. Y/n turns to the clock once more.

4:00 sharp.

Darry, instead of going straight to his room as y/n hoped, walks toward the shared bathroom in the house. Running water is the next sound that y/n recognizes, the tall man sighing in relief as hot water crashes onto his sweaty body.

He tiredly washes himself, removing the dirt and grime that covered his skin. Grease slipped from his hair, letting it go flat in the small tub as muddy brown water circled the drain. Drops of water settled into the crevices of his muscles, staying there even after he turned off the water and stepped out of the tub.

Quiet hums fill the air, following him through the hallway and down to where his impatient lover awaited him.

He wasn’t expecting to see the bundle of blankets on his bed, let alone a face sticking out of them. “Y/n? Why aren’t you at school.”

Y/n takes a moment to answer, admiring the man’s figure through half lidded eyes. “Didn’t feel like it…” they grumble, and he sighs.

“Ya can’t keep missing school like this…” he scolds, pulling a stray shirt over his head. Y/n groans. “Can ya really consider it school, when you’ve already graduated?”

“They’re extra classes, and they’ll help you get a job one day.” Darry responds, pulling on a fresh pair of boxers. Y/n doesn’t answer, turning their head away from him.

Pathetic, pathetic…

The lack of response doesn’t go unnoticed, the brunette glancing at his bed through his now free strands of hair. Another sigh escapes him.

He didn’t mean to sound condescending, truly. To him it seemed nothing less than logical to work as hard as possible, sometimes clouding his judgement towards y/n’s lazier coping mechanisms.

They were still undeniably perfect, in his eyes. The body they saw as “odd” or “underwhelmingly too much” was like a beautifully sculpted statue of h/c and s/c colors, to him. Though he had no idea how to share that with them, he knew it was true.

Through closed eyes, y/n hears the padding of feet approaching the bed, feeling someone hover above their figure.

Opening their eyes just a little, the pair’s eyes meet.

“Move over.”

The h/c does as told, rolling to the side, allowing Darry to slip under the covers and join them. His arms wrap around their tired body quickly, skin pressed against each other’s while the droplets of water cool y/n’s body down significantly, and the warmth of their body heating the brunettes’.

Darry rests his forehead against the hair on y/n’s head, trapping said person in his toned arms. His hands run down their sides, settling on their hip, though his thumb continues to trace lines up and down y/n’s skin.

Immediately a strong sense of comfort overwhelms them, the moment they’d been waiting for since he left that morning finally coming to embrace them.

“Go to bed, sweetheart. I ain’t going nowhere..”

#The outsiders #gender neutral reader #darry curtis #darry curtis x reader #The outsiders angst #The outsiders x reader #darry curtis imagines

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notmaplemable · 1 year

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Weapons of Summer Love Part 5

Summer aimed Rosepetal. Exhaling slowly. Firing.

The grimm which she fired at snapping back violently as the round ripped through it. Tumbling to the ground and being trampled by the grimm behind it. Tripping up one of the larger grimm.

STRQ had managed to dig themselves into a position where the grimm would have to funnel themselves through a narrow opening to get to them.

Raven and Tai were positioned near the opening of the funnel. Raven cutting through dozens of grimm as Qrow ran interference. Shifting in and out of his corvid form harassing and slowing down the waves.

Tai took up his usual position as the big grimm hunter. With a single punch cracking and breaking away the think armor of most any grimm. In this case a goliath.

Summer set herself up in an old watch tower. Overlooking the battlefield as well aimed shots rang out every second or so. Qrow's chirps and whistles, barely heard over the firing, telling her to fire at specific targets as her partner continued his harassment.

Summer loaded her last full magazine into Rosepetal as the horde appeared to be thinning out. A high pitched whistle came from Qrow. War-

A arm covered in thick bone plating crashed through the watch tower. In the place where Summer was a cascade of white and red rose petals burst from the destroyed building. Summer reappearing in another burst of petals yards away from the destroyed tower.

Landing on a nearby roof Summer teleported from roof to roof. Taking crack shots at the grimm who had destroyed her previous lookout. A geist that had possessed some of the debris of the town. Essentially turning itself into a walking, not quite talking, certainly trying to kill her, house.

Not that she could do much damage with the mask covered. Rosepetal could pack a punch, but she wasn't an anti-material rifle of anything of that sort. No, this problem was best dealt with, not with precision, but with power. And on team STRQ there was only one man for that job.

Summer: Qrow! Keep that thing in one place!

Qrow: On it!

Taiyang: What's the plan Sums?

Tai said as Summer landing on the ground near him and Raven.

Summer: Diving Phoenix.

Summer pointed towards one particularly tall building in the abandoned village they were fighting in.

Taiyang: Been awhile since we did that one.

Raven: I hope you've worked on you landing strategy since the last time.

Raven teased as Summer grabbed Tai. Teleporting from building to building as they finally reached the top of the taller building. Tai jumping off the building as Raven opened up a portal underneath him. The other being directly over the geist.

Tai crashed down on the geist with a loud crack. Exposing the mask. A quick shot from Summer doing the rest of the work. Tai, having apparently not improved his landing strategy, landing flat on his rear end as the former grimm collapsed.

Taiyang: That kill counts for me Sums!

Summer: I got the last shot in! Now get off your butt and help!

Taiyang: Yeah yeah yeah. But that only counts as one!

------

Summer exhaled slowly. Looking at Ruby and Jaune, who were sitting on her bed.

Summer: The first thing that I want to say, is that I'm sorry for kissing you Jaune. I was very emotional and... I shouldn't have done something like that. I'm sorry.

Jaune: It's okay Summer.

Ruby: I still don't like it, but... but I understand that you were having a moment and Jaune was there to help you through it. Like the great guy he is.

Summer: Thank you for being so understanding. The last thing I would want to do is damage your relationship with Jaune or with me.

Summer: But that's not the only thing I need to apologize for.

Ruby: I-I heard all those things you said about yourself mom. So if you're about to apologize for being a bad mother, don't even think about it! You're a great mom! The best!

Summer: ...Thank you dear, but I wanted to apologize for something else.

Summer: You see, I've always been a very reserved person. I've always tried to keep my feeling in check and not tell people too much about myself. I repressed myself. And it's very difficult for me to open up to people.

Summer: But that's not fair to you or Yang. There's a lot about me that you don't know. That you really should.

Summer: Where I grew up. About my parents and my sister. There's so much of my story that I've kept from you. Things that not ever Qrow and Raven know.

Summer: Your father was one of the few people who could ever really get me to open up. To let go. To be truly vulnerable with someone.

Summer: He made me feel so protected. So loved, even before we got together. Like there was someone in my life who would always support me and have my back.

Summer: And when I lost him I just closed myself off to everyone again.

Summer: I never thought that I would meet anyone who could make me feel that way again.

Summer: ...That was... Until I met Jaune...

#rwby #weapons of summer love au #jaune arc #ruby rose #lancaster #summer knight #greek fire #rosebush knight #taiyang xiao long #raven branwen #qrow branwen #summer rose

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lifetimeroofingmelbourne · 18 days

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Why Colorbond Roofing is the Best Choice for Melbourne Homes

Choosing the right roofing material is crucial for homeowners in Melbourne, given the city's unique weather conditions and architectural styles. Colorbond roofing has emerged as a leading choice for many reasons, from its durability and aesthetic appeal to its energy efficiency and sustainability. In this comprehensive guide, we will delve into why Colorbond roofing stands out as the best option for Melbourne homes.

Exceptional Durability and Longevity

One of the primary reasons Colorbond roofing is favoured in Melbourne is its exceptional durability. Made from high-quality steel, Colorbond roofing is designed to withstand harsh weather conditions, including heavy rains, strong winds, and intense UV radiation. The material undergoes rigorous testing to ensure it can resist chipping, peeling, and cracking, making it a long-lasting investment for any home.

Resistant to Corrosion and Rust

Melbourne's coastal environment can be challenging for many roofing materials due to the high levels of salt in the air. However, Colorbond roofing is specifically engineered to be resistant to corrosion and rust, thanks to its advanced coating technology. This makes it an ideal choice for homes near the coast or in areas prone to salt spray.

Minimal Maintenance

Unlike traditional roofing materials that require regular upkeep, Colorbond roofing is known for its low maintenance requirements. Its non-porous surface prevents dirt and debris from accumulating, and the baked-on paint finish ensures that the roof retains its appearance with minimal cleaning. This means homeowners can enjoy a beautiful, functional roof with little effort.

Energy Efficiency and Sustainability

With increasing awareness of the need for energy-efficient homes, Colorbond roofing offers significant advantages in this area. Its innovative design helps regulate indoor temperatures, reducing the need for artificial heating and cooling.

Thermal Efficiency

Colorbond roofing is available in a range of colours, including lighter shades that are designed to reflect more of the sun's heat. This thermal efficiency helps keep homes cooler in the summer months, leading to lower energy bills and a reduced carbon footprint. Additionally, Colorbond steel's excellent insulation properties can help retain warmth during the colder months, ensuring year-round comfort.

Environmentally Friendly

Sustainability is a key consideration for modern homeowners, and Colorbond roofing delivers on this front. The steel used in Colorbond roofing is 100% recyclable, making it an environmentally responsible choice. Moreover, the longevity and durability of the material mean fewer resources are needed for repairs and replacements over time.

Aesthetic Appeal and Versatility

The aesthetic appeal of Colorbond roofing cannot be overstated. Available in a wide range of colours and profiles, Colorbond roofing can complement any architectural style, from traditional to contemporary.

Extensive Colour Range

Homeowners can choose from an extensive colour range to match their personal style and the overall look of their home. Whether you prefer the classic hues of Monument and Surfmist or the vibrant tones of Manor Red and Cottage Green, there is a Colorbond shade to suit every preference.

Versatile Design Options

Colorbond roofing is also incredibly versatile in terms of design. It can be used for various roofing styles, including flat, gabled, and skillion roofs. This versatility allows architects and builders to create unique and eye-catching designs that enhance the curb appeal of any property.

Enhanced Security and Safety

Safety is another critical factor that makes Colorbond roofing an excellent choice for Melbourne homes. Its robust construction provides enhanced security, while its fire-resistant properties offer peace of mind in bushfire-prone areas.

Fire Resistance

Colorbond roofing is made from non-combustible materials, making it highly fire-resistant. This is particularly important for homes located in bushfire-prone regions of Melbourne. The material's ability to withstand high temperatures and resist ignition can help protect your home and its occupants during a fire.

Strong and Secure

The strength of Colorbond steel provides an added layer of security against potential break-ins. Its durable construction makes it difficult for intruders to penetrate, ensuring that your home remains safe and secure.

Cost-Effective Investment

While the initial cost of Colorbond roofing may be higher than some traditional roofing materials, its long-term benefits make it a cost-effective investment.

Long-Term Savings

The durability, low maintenance, and energy efficiency of Colorbond roofing contribute to long-term savings. Homeowners can expect to spend less on repairs, replacements, and energy bills over the life of the roof, making it a financially sound choice.

Increased Property Value

Installing Colorbond roofing can also increase the property value of your home. Potential buyers are often willing to pay a premium for homes with high-quality, low-maintenance roofing. This makes Colorbond roofing an attractive feature that can enhance the resale value of your property.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Colorbond roofing stands out as the best choice for Melbourne homes due to its exceptional durability, energy efficiency, aesthetic appeal, and safety features. Its long-term cost-effectiveness and environmental benefits further solidify its position as the preferred roofing material for discerning homeowners. Whether you're building a new home or replacing an existing roof, Colorbond roofing offers a versatile and reliable solution that meets the diverse needs of Melbourne residents.

Ready to upgrade your roof to the best choice for Melbourne homes? Contact Lifetime Roofing today for a consultation and discover how Colorbond roofing can transform your home. Our experienced team is here to provide you with top-notch service and ensure your roofing project is a success.

#colorbond roofing #roofing contractor #roofing melbourne #roof replacement #roofing company #roofing services #roofers #roof repair #roof installation

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budgerigorous · 4 months

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An excerpt from my story, introducing my favorite character.

Maria was like no city in the world. Even Chipora’s Liribe, the best of all cities, could not match it in singularity. It wasn’t that Maria had things that other cities didn’t; rather, it had the features of any other city, but managed, despite this, to distinguish itself. Even a jaded and tired traveler, hurried through Maria, remembered it: “What was that nameless city we passed through?”

From above, as the flying clothes bunted her between dawn drafts, Chipora slowly sunk into the atmosphere of Maria. To the northeast, a small peninsula was occupied by an ancient fort, Piccula Uardina, the little rose, where the people retreated in times of siege.

Below Piccula Uardina, the northeastern part of Maria’s coastline was given to fishing. Boats crowded the upper harbor. On the old wharf, a handful of fishmongers were beginning to set up shop.

On the northwestern outskirts of Maria, on land that was a little elevated, sat the School of Prophecy and the Prodigian monastery that governed it. A few dozen years prior, buried ruins had been discovered by accident when ground was broken for the school building. The ruins were still being excavated; work-study students, among whose numbers Chipora had once been counted, brought the workers lunch, amused them with fortune-telling, and did their laundry.

Chipora averted her eyes from the School and directed them eastward, to the south of the upper harbor. There lay the city center, the piazza. The starfish sprawl of Five Arms protruded from it: five grand avenues, each with its historical specialty and the corresponding palace, with streets spiraling off. Viewed from the air, it was stunningly labyrinthine, like the inside of an anthill—not a wasted cranny of space.

The Five Arms were as follows:

The avenue of Records, terminating in the Palace of Cartographers (where maps were evaluated and kept);

The avenue of Chance, terminating in the Palace of Hard Luck (where the destitute found lodging and light employment);

The avenue of Ashes, terminating in the Palace of Bones (walls made of bones);

The avenue of Ablutions, terminating in the Palace of Mirrors (walls lined with mirrors);

And the avenue of Oranges, terminating in the Palace of Oranges (orange).

Against her will, Chipora’s mood rose. She had missed Maria—the warm yellow sandstone of its buildings, the balconettes hung with rag-banners and charms, the flat roofs that collected rain. Despite everything, there was something so lovely about the place. She would need to keep her guard up to withstand its charms.

Chipora alighted on a roof and, with several false starts, began the process of descending the fire escape to the streets below.

The House of Ducks was just off the avenue of Ablutions, an advantage offered to no other launderer in the city. They had a lady in the back who read the future in soap scum, was why. Chipora had had a rich friend at school whose family sent her laundry there, and the friend had met the soap scum lady. She worked one day a week; the other days, it was just a normal laundry.

Sandstone buildings rose on either side of the avenue, bricks cleaved by metal-screened doorways and little alleys. Down these every manner of specialist could be found who dealt with water, currents, or reflections. As the wind shifted, it brought with it hints of incense and oleander, salt and fish-stench, and the murmuring of concealed fountains.

The street was wide enough that merchant stalls could be set up in the center. At these were stationed bubble-blowers, icemen, and interpreters of the behavior of various materials when dropped in water. Some of the proprietors had been there for centuries, and could not be persuaded to move to a brick-and-mortar building by legal or divine decree.

Càssaro Street was about halfway up the avenue, equidistant from the piazza and the sea-facing Palace of Mirrors. A little ways down it stood the House of Ducks. It was a freestanding building attended by many garish painted statues of ducks, symbolizing the industrious and amphibious nature of the laundress.

Wash houses, self-service laundries that could be accessed for free or for a pittance, were usually built on a spring to take advantage of the natural flow of water. The shelter they afforded was incomplete, with one wall or the other open, or no walls at all; and the furnishings were rustic stone. The customers were local women, who gossiped as they worked and lounged when not working, and the atmosphere was convivial or at least companionable.

Not so was the House of Ducks. The entry room of the building felt lonely and dingy, despite the painted walls and clean tile floor. The back, where laundering ostensibly took place, was too far to catch more than a whiff of soap-scented steam.

Though the place had just opened, there was another customer already there, a woman veiled in black and swathed in black skirts. Though the veil hid her face, what Chipora could make out of her was quite handsome. Even if it hadn’t been so, she carried herself with such confidence that the eye was naturally drawn to her.

At least, that was how Chipora felt. The attendant at the House of Ducks hadn’t seemed to notice the woman. She was arranging a box of sachets, and when she lifted her head, she looked only at Chipora.

“Be with you in a moment, miss,” she said to Chipora. She disappeared into the back.

“Excuse me, I know you were here first,” said Chipora to the veiled woman. “I’ll say so when she gets back.”

The woman laughed, the sound muffled by her veil. “Tonia is ignoring me on purpose.”

“Why?”

“We have a personal animus.”

“Then why do you do business with her?” There were plenty of other laundries in Maria, and the House of Ducks was out of the way.

“This is the only place in town”—with these words the woman’s tone gained an edge, she grit her teeth—“that will wash what I need to have washed.”

“Ah.”

“I’m a widow,” she said, like that explained everything instead of just her dress.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Chipora.

“Not your fault. I have an artistic temperament, and grief has exacerbated my eccentricities. I’m a playwright, a director, and sometimes an actress, too.”

“My!” Chipora was famous among her sisters for her disdain of the performing arts, but such a range of capabilities impressed even her.

“You could come to the theater to see a show of mine, if you like,” said the widow. “You seem like a discerning young woman.” She looked expectant.

“Oh.” Chipora, conflicted, scrambled for an excuse. As mentioned, she didn’t like plays, and her master and Fi would be expecting her back that day; but no one had ever invited her to the theater before, let alone to see an original show. “I, um, that’s very…”

“Are they bothering you, miss?” Tonia had returned.

“Eat shit,” said the widow sweetly, in the language of the Sea People.

Chipora almost gasped—there was almost no one else in Schedoni who spoke it! But she kept her cool.

“This lady was here before me,” Chipora informed Tonia. “I think we’re both here to pick up laundry.”

“Mine is under ‘Vella,’ as you know,” said the widow to Tonia, who huffed with distaste.

“I’m here for Fi,” said Chipora. “Oh! For Toderina, actually. Or possibly Colombina? Holubina?” Fi had given her several aliases. “It could also be under Palomita.”

Tonia looked from one of them to the other, appearing to search for a reason that they were allied. It was a critical and involved evaluation. At last she said, “Wait here.”

She was gone longer than before. Chipora stood awkwardly beside the Widow Vella, wanting to say something interesting in the language of the Sea People—sailors’ cant, it was called, or iamisce, sea-language.

Few sailors spoke iamisce nowadays. Among the Sea People, an interest in the sea was regarded as a warning sign of extremism, and was discouraged. Chipora’s parents hadn’t even liked that she would be living on an island.

She couldn’t blame them, as her two sea-journeys to date had been disastrous. On the way from Liribe to Schedoni, she’d gotten very ill, and on the night voyage from Schedoni… well, being shipwrecked on Mazzini had beaten the alternative, but it hadn’t been great.

In past centuries, boatloads of Sea People had been lost to religious fervor. What happened was that a charismatic young person would come along, get very intense about knots and astronomy, and convince a village or two to sail west with them. If any of them had survived the journey, nobody had yet heard about it.

“Excuse me,” said Chipora very quietly in iamisce, “but I wondered—”

“For Fi, you said?”

Tonia was finally back with their laundry.

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roofprotectproducts · 1 year

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Rubber Roofing: Should You Go For it?

Rubber roofing has become quite popular due to its durability, flexibility, and resistance to weathering and UV radiation. Also, it can withstand high temperatures and harsh weather. Thus, it is a great choice for buildings located in areas that experience heavy rainfall, snow, or hail.

If you are wondering whether it’s a good idea to use rubber roofing, you have landed at the right place. Here, you’ll understand the various aspects of rubber roofing that’ll help you with your decision.

What is Rubber Roofing?

Rubber roofing is a type of roofing material made from a synthetic rubber compound. It is the best roof coating for flat roof or low-sloped roof. Moreover, it is suitable for both residential and commercial buildings.

It is possible to install rubber roofing in several ways, including fully adhered, mechanically attached, or ballasted. Available in rolls of various sizes and thicknesses, rubber roofing material can be cut to fit any size or shape of the roof. Special types of adhesives or tapes are used to create a watertight seal that helps prevent leaks.

Benefits of Rubber Roofing

Rubber roofing offers several benefits, including the ones mentioned below:

Long-lasting

Rubber roofing is highly durable and can withstand extreme weather conditions, such as hail, wind, and heavy rainfall. It can also withstand exposure to UV radiation and does not easily crack or warp.

Low Maintenance

Rubber roofing requires low maintenance. You only need to perform periodic cleaning to remove debris and dirt.Low Maintenance

Rubber roofing

Energy Efficient

Rubber roofing behaves as a good insulator, which helps reduce energy costs by maintaining a more consistent indoor temperature.

Easy to Install

The installation process of rubber roofing is quick and easy. You can either glue the sheets onto the roof or fasten them mechanically.

Versatile

Rubber roofing is suitable for several types of roofs, including flat and low-sloped roofs.

Environment-friendly

Rubber roofing is often made from recycled materials, which can reduce the amount of waste going to landfills.

Cost-effective

Rubber roofing is cost-effective, as it is inexpensive compared to many other roofing materials. It can also save additional money over time due to its low maintenance.

Conclusion

Rubber roofing is a great choice for anyone looking for a long-lasting roofing solution. Also, it is affordable compared to several other roofing materials out there. You can contact a leading roofing contractor near your location to get it installed at your building.

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modern-inheritance · 3 months

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More from the in-progress Great Escape

I'm not so sure about this part. I need to clean it up, probably rewrite it completely, but just wanted it DOWN.

“Ya alright, ya alright.” Murtagh pulled on the woman’s shoulder. It took substantial effort to haul her onto her back, fighting against her natural instinct to keep her battered body tucked as tightly as possible. “Let me see, come on!”

The second she was laying flat the elf grabbed his wrist in an iron grip. Her eyes were wild, a look that Murtagh recognized from Tornac’s many episodes. Seeing but not seeing, dangerous and vulnerable all at once.

He did his best to ignore the pressure and ripped the bandage open with his teeth. He tossed aside the packaging with a practiced flick of his wrist, and with a gruff word of warning, none-too-gently shoved the thick absorbent material into the bleeding gash along the woman’s hip.

That got her attention. She let him go with a ragged hiss and pressed a hand over the bandage, holding pressure while Murtagh dug in the bag for tape. “Keep holding it, it’s bleeding bad.”

He snapped back to her when she let out a choking noise, rolled away from him again and clutched her head. Whatever the Shade had done was still in play, though not nearly as powerful as the first wave. Murtagh swore and grabbed her again, partly crawling under the damn table to pull her back.

While under there, one arm around her waist to try and keep some sort of seal on the bandage, he spotted a glimmer of metal. He hooked it with his free hand, fingers barely brushing the edge before he got purchase, and dragged it out with the elf. Her sword. He shoved it in the sheath at her side.

“You gotta stay with me, lass.” Murtagh pleaded. Elves, Shades, dragons, Dragon Riders. The entire roof coming down over his head because a dragon was ripping it apart. He was rapidly starting to find he had a wits end and was maybe, just maybe, in just a little bit over his head.

So he did what he could. He picked up the woman’s bloodied hand and placed it over the wad of gauze. “Just hang in there, we’re almost out of here.” Her hand stayed when he lifted his own, just long enough for him to tape it down as tightly as he could. Unsure if it would hold, his gaze caught on her stolen belt and he readjusted it before ratcheting it down over the mess of tape and bandaging.

(Back to Eragon fighting Durza)

“He’ll kill him.” The elf’s eyes were glassy when Murtagh tore his own gaze away from the spectacle. She was trying to turn over again, this time to her belly, trying to push herself up. Alarmed, Murtagh grabbed her shoulders and forced her back down and back under the table, just in time for a stone the size of an Urgal’s head to bounce off the mahogany.

“Eragon’s doing just fine, lass!” A jolt of worry lanced through him when he realized the woman was barely pushing against his arms. She had ripped apart a metal locker earlier and now she couldn’t even break his grip. “Just stay still and stay awake, yeah? Saphira’s almost here.”

“Saphira?” The raspy whisper was little more than a confused mumble. “Saphira’s dead….”

She trailed off. Murtagh swore explosively when he realized her eyes were closed. "For fuckssake, what did I just tell you!"

#eragon #inheritance cycle #the cyclists #the world of eragon #the inheritance cycle #modern inheritance #ket's modern inheritance cycle #mic wip #poor murtagh #he's starting to realize he had a somewhat normal life before this #we're using normal very very loosely here at MIC #wip #murtagh #murtagh (eragon)#murtagh (inheritance)#hey look Tornac gets a mention!

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roofsolarinjacksonville · 2 years

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If you want your flat roof on your Jacksonville building to last, you must hire a professional commercial roofing contractor. In addition to proper installation, flat roofing should be maintained on a regular basis. A flat roof will deteriorate over time, even if it is well-maintained. Flat roofs are designed to have the smallest possible slopes, which are required for drainage. Flat roofs are popular among business owners because they are simple to install and energy efficient. If your commercial building has a flat roof, you should be aware of common flat roofing problems so you can contact commercial roofing contractors for roof repairs.

#7 Things to Consider Before Flat Roof Replacement - Superior ...#Strip a Flat Felt Roof - Replace a flat roof - YouTube #The 4 Best Materials for a Flat Roof (& How Much They Cost)#When to Repair and When to Replace Your Flat Roof - Capitol ...#6 Most Common Flat Roofing Problems #How Many Layers Should A Flat Roof Have?

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scout-company · 1 year

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Atlas—Chapter 6: USCM Penal Colony

Scout has to really try to not touch any of the goopy mud at the top of the hill. The mud coats more than she expected, and as she and Alice climb to the top, it covers most of the easy handholds.

“Ew…” Scout fizzles when her left hand accidentally touches a mud-slicked stone. Even though her sense of touch is dulled through the composite material of her prosthetic, the mud is still cold and slick under her hand. And it sticks to her fingers like thick, clingy slime. “This mess is nasty. Almost as bad as tar.”

“It is tar,” Alice notes quietly, carefully avoiding the worst of the mud herself while she peeks over the hill, “Partly, anyways. Mixed with mud. The prospector says this area’s riddled with tar pits.”

“Nasty,” Scout buzzes again, doing her best to shake the gunk off. It helps that a combination of the sun’s heat and Scout’s own heat makes the stuff softer and more willing to shake off. Still leaves her fingers sticky. She shakes off as much as the tar-mud as she can, then starts to peek over the hill at the building compound ahead. “How folks over here can stand livin’ ‘round this mess is beyond me—!” she starts to say, only to slip into a startled whistle when Alice grabs the hem of her shirt and yanks her back down. She flares with a crackle and sparks as she regains her balance, “Alice, what the heck was that for?!”

“They’ll spot you like that!” she hisses back, intensity of her frown deepening even as she lowers her volume and hovers even closer to the hill.

“They ain’t gonna spot me. I was just—”

Alice’s expression flattens as she counters, “Scout, you glow.”

“An’ it’s almost midday,” Scout points out, pointing at the sun almost directly above them with a finger and an upwards nod, “I may be bright, but I ain’t that bright. I ain’t gonna stand out till sundown. Besides,” she adds as she peeks back over the hill at the compound, “There ain’t anybody to see us right now.”

Alice’s brows knot a bit as she starts to argue, “But they usually have someone on…” But then she cuts herself off when she peeks back over the hill herself, fading to a soft, “Huh.”

All of the buildings in the compound ahead of them have flat roofs with short walls. The building closest to the hill has a long, fenced-off pathway feeding to a front gate, and the roof of that building is entirely flat except for a single short tower in the corner. Compared to the rest of the buildings, it’s squat. And it’s completely empty.

Alice starts to mutter, “Where did they…?”

But Scout scrambles to her feet before Alice can finish, urging her on with a light swat to her shoulder and a pop, “Maybe they’re takin’ a siesta. C’mon, let’s scoot before they show face.”

Quietly the two of them make their way down the steep hill towards the compound. If there’s one good thing about the tar-mud, it’s that it makes less noise than parched, bone-ridden sand and it makes it easy to slide down the hill.

The building in front of them is tall and cold and uncaringly square. Despite being as colorless as the rest of the overall desert, it drains what little vibrancy tries to pop up around it. The tar pit it sits in doesn’t help.

There’s a sign just in front of the fenced pathway, standing guard just before the compound’s stone foundation juts out of the mud. Its base is the same stone as the rest of the foundation; the rest of it is a paler stone more native to the area. Some of the cracks and scuffs show its age as signs of time; the rest of the cracks are signs of violence.

“Looks like a grand gravestone,” Scout hums grimly as she studies the sign. There’s large letters carved into its face, but they’re in a language Scout can’t read. She can tell it’s not written in the same writing all over the Outpost, but that’s the most she can parse.

Alice sticks closely behind Scout, pointedly staying away from the sign even as she reads aloud, “USCM Penal Colony.” She shudders.

Scout glances over her shoulder at her. “USCM?” she echoes, “What’s that?”

“Some sort of…old army or something from Earth,” Alice mutters, tilting a shoulder in half a shrug while tugging anxiously at her shirt. “I only ever heard stories. None of them pleasant.”

Scout gives a long, soft whistle as she mentally files that note away. “Fun,” she drawls.

Alice agrees with a grim hum, her lips pressed together into a tight line as she casts one last look at the sign, then tears her eyes away.

Scout waves her onward, stepping up to the stone foundation while drawing her dagger.

For whatever reason, there’s no gate at the beginning of the pathway. Instead they’re funneled onwards by walls of thick, chain link fence and by barbed wire looming above like withered, wickedly twisted vines. The metal glitters in the sunlight like cold ice while glittering in Scout’s light like lava.

The only gate is a thick metal door embedded into the stone wall of the building proper. It’s nearly as worn as the rest of the place, with a section of its rightmost edge polished by repeated touch. Despite the wear, though, it gives slightly when Scout pushes on it, and after a minute of pushing at different angles, she manages to push it sideways along its sliding track. A slight grind and suck of air from old pneumatic systems announces her success, loud enough she and Alice freeze for several moments. But the only sounds Scout can hear are distant echoes of people doing their own thing, voices and laughs distorted by hundreds of stone blocks in stars know how many walls. Plus the incessant wailing of a siren, but it didn’t start when she pushed the door open, and it doesn’t freak out when she peeks in. Looks like they’re clear.

Scout quietly presses her way onwards, signaling for Alice to follow closely with a small wave of her fingers.

This whole place feels eerie. The weight of the stone building compresses the tension right on Scout’s head as if it’s an artificial cave. More of those huge, blocky letters are written across the wall of the entrance hall they pass through, the cracking white paint catching the blinking red light of the alarm in the corner. The alarm’s light keeps flickering off-tempo with its blinks—must have been going for so long it’s wearing out.

Alice shudders behind Scout’s shoulder when they both glance at the huge letters, and Scout realizes they’re the same letters engraved on the sign outside. Huh.

Aside from the alarm and the letters, the entrance hall is completely empty safe for the gate at the other end. And it’s an actual gate door this time—made of thick, crossed metal bars, some of them starting to rust in the corners. Carefully Scout approaches the door and peers past the bars at the foyer-like space beyond.

There’s a few benches along the walls, along with a space that looks like a bench had once sat there but had been torn out at some point, with discolored stone and more than a few deep scratch marks. A vending machine sits in front of one of the large metal-plated support pillars embedded into the walls, slightly off-kilter in comparison to the clinically straight grid of stone tiles in the floor. Someone probably dragged the vending machine in and left it there.

Scout almost tries to wiggle the door to see which way it wants to open. But then footsteps echo from above, getting closer.

Alice gasps while Scout sparks and they both duck back, pressing against the wall as much as they can. The footsteps tap in slow, meandering beats, accompanied by slurring, horribly off-key humming. First on stone, then on old metal. Each footstep on the metal sends rattling echoes through the place, but the person humming doesn’t sound like they care. They’re just humming away, their notes slurring together into songs Scout can’t decide whether or not she even wants to make heads or tails of. Even when they mumble actual words aloud, they’re in a language Scout doesn’t understand and her translator doesn’t catch enough to translate. But still they continue in a sloppy, rough tenor.

Until they stop.

Warily Scout inches her head around the doorframe and catches a glimpse of worn black shoes, belonging to someone in bright orange pants, partially down the stairs closest to the entrance. They shift in place a bit, swinging a weapon of some sort barely into and out of view. They harrumph and start to mutter, barely coherently enough for Scout’s translator to relay, “One of these days I’m gonna…Huh? What the—Oi, who left the light on out front?”

Shoot.

As soon as they grunt louder and scurry down the stairs, Scout crackles and ducks. Her light got spotted.

She barely thinks when the person—a Human man, scruffy and with wild eyes and an oversized hammer—comes down the stairs and races towards the door. She barely registers his bark at her. As soon as the guy’s in range, she stabs her dagger into the lock and shoves forward.

The door slamming into the guy’s hammer doesn’t do much to slow him down. But it gives Scout just enough of an opening to rush past.

Again that instinct takes over, and Scout barely registers ducking under the man’s hammer, her dagger catching his arm. She registers him staggering back briefly enough to send him backwards again with a kick. He shouts something, her translator relays it as a call for help. More footsteps start clambering into indistinct echoes from further in the compound.

The man swings again, and Scout ducks away and lets him knock himself over from the momentum. Before he can recover, Scout jumps onto his upper back, holding onto his shoulder with one hand while hovering her dagger near his neck—not close enough to cut, but close enough for him to see the blade poised like a scorpion.

“Oi! Get off, you cricket!” the man barks, starting to scramble to his feet.

“Where’s the goods y’all stole?” Scout sparks back.

“Who do you think you are?!”

Alice answers for her with a shrill, “Scout!”

Scout snaps her head up as the gate on the far side of the foyer slams open, the sound of rickety metal against stone rattling the air before gunshots pierce it. More Humans—each wearing the same kind of orange jumper in varying states of disarray—storm through, weapons akimbo.

The man Scout is perched on staggers to his feet; Scout wobbles and barely keeps her grip. But as he tries to raise his hammer, Scout yanks his collar and herself to the side, throwing him off-balance as a shower of bullets zip by. One, two, graze Scout’s arms and corona. One glances off her dagger. One hits the man in the shoulder as Scout yanks him sideways.

He disappears from under her feet in a burst of blue light, cutting his cry of pain short.

“What the—?!” Scout crackles as she tumbles. She shoots Alice a glance and flares, “What was that?! I didn’t—”

“H-he must’ve had a respawn beacon,” Alice stutters between breaths as she rushes to Scout’s side, tugging on her shirt to pull her to her feet.

More gunshots and battle cries cut through the air before Alice can say anything else. Her eyes are already wide, but they shoot even wider as Scout grabs her arm and rushes forward.

Scout ducks under incoming bullets, tugging Alice with her. “Let’s just find them goods and scram!” she declares over Alice’s yelp. “I’m gettin’ the feeling we ain’t wanted!”

“You think!?”

~~~~~

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#starbound fanfic #starbound #starbound novakid #fanfic #I Was The Sun #Atlas

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