#Jimmy would be my general manager | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

basiccortez · 2 years

Text

My Forever - R. Wheeler

Pairing: Rip Wheeler x female!Dutton warnings: pregnancy, horseback riding while pregnant, protective papa Rip word count: 1.3k Note: my Yellowstone and Outer Range requests are open. If you saw me post this yesterday. . . ya didn't.

It has always been a dream of yours to become a mother. From the time you were a little girl, running around with Kayce and Lee on the ranch, you had always played “family”, your old brothers playing along with you. Every doll and teddy bear that you had gotten became your baby and you treated them as such. Your mother wanted more for you than to become some rancher’s wife and raise the next generation of Duttons, but it was what you wanted.

Rip knew that that was your dream, and he was more than willing to help you achieve it. First thing though, was marrying you. John put the fear of god in him on what would happen if he knocked up his little girl before marrying her. So Rip did right by him, and married you in a small ceremony on John’s front lawn. You wore a simple white sundress and your boots. Kayce stood by your side as you exchanged vows with the love of your life. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time until you were sharing the news that you were pregnant.

You were currently six months along and were bursting at the seams with excitement about the little girl you were carrying. Rip was terrified when you told him the baby was a girl. He didn’t know the first thing about raising little girls, and prayed that if she turned out anything like you or her aunt. . . God save the man who pisses her off. But there was one thing that you missed the most since becoming pregnant, was being able to ride your horse.

It wasn’t that you couldn’t go ride, it was just strongly recommended that you don’t. You had asked at your first OB appointment if you could, and your midwife advised against it. And Rip took that like it was the word of God. Anytime he saw you getting anywhere close to the bunkhouse or the stables, he was directing you away. He was already protective of you, and now that you were carrying his little girl, it was amplified by a thousand.

But somehow, you had managed to get around his ruling, and found yourself in the stables before anyone else, well besides Jimmy, who was cleaning the stalls. Your boots clicked on the cement as you walked by the horses, getting to the stall where your first baby was. The brown and white Appaloosa that had been gifted to you for your 18th birthday, stood up from his lying position and made his way over to you.

“Missed me, huh,” You smiled and pet his nose, “I missed you too.”

“Uh, are you supposed to be-”

“Jimmy, shut up,” You said, “Saddle up ol’ Jesse here.”

“Rip told us not to-”

“Does it look like Rip is fucking here,” You turned and put your hands on your hips, “Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to piss off a pregnant woman? A pregnant Dutton woman, at that?”

“N-no, ma’am.”

“So stop fucking stuttering and saddle up my horse, Jimmy!”

Jimmy nodded and moved quickly to get Jesse out of his stall. You sighed in content and fixed the hat on your head. You were at the point in your pregnancy where wearing Rip’s jackets fit better than your own. You knew that when he woke and looked for his classic black Yellowstone jacket, he'd start cursing up a storm but you couldn’t be bothered with it.

“Horse is saddled ma’am, where should I put him?” Jimmy asked.

“In the arena,” You said. Jimmy nodded and followed you out to the arena with Jesse on the reigns. The horse seemed excited as they neared the arena, knowing that he would be able to stretch his legs and get a good run in, “Alright,” You sighed, and took the reins from Jimmy, “Stay near.”

“Why?”

“In case I fall off this thing or Rip comes down,” You climbed up on the fence, giving yourself a little extra leverage to get up on Jesse’s saddle. You couldn’t swing up on him like you used to, not with a growing belly. Jesse let out soft huff as you mounted and adjusted yourself in the saddle, “Alright, easy now boy.” You kicked his belly softly, “Precious cargo on board.”

As if Jesse could understand you, the horse started to gently trot around the arena. It wasn’t like you were used to, being able to take off with incredible speed and ride him up through the mountains and valleys of the ranch, but the soft, gentle trot was enough to bring a smile on your face. You let out a laugh as you felt your baby kick within you. You pulled on Jesse’s reins, stopping him.

“Good boy,” You cooed and pet his mane, “Soon enough you’ll have another little handler who will be begging to take you for a spin. Come on,” You kicked his belly once again, getting the horse to start to trot.

Jimmy watched you amazed, how easily you took all the turns and led Jesse around the ring. He didn’t notice that the rest of the bunkhouse had woken up, or that Rip was storming his way up to the arena, looking for both his jacket and his woman.

“What the fuck is she doing?” Rip asked, seeing you in the arena, “Jimmy, what the fuck is she doing?”

“Uh,”

“Oh!” You stopped Jesse’s small run, “You’re awake.”

“Yeah, I’m fucking awake,” Rip said, “What the hell are you doing on a goddamn horse?”

“Well, what does it fucking look like?” You sassed back.

“Ryan, get her the fuck off that damn horse,” Rip ordered. You rolled your eyes as you watched your husband walk away and back into the stables, but not before stopping and thumping Jimmy upside the head. Ryan gave you an apologetic look and grabbed Jesse’s reins, pulling you over to a ladder that Colby had brought out.

“Sorry, miss,” Lloyd said, giving you his hand to help you off the horse, “You know how he is.”

“A stubborn asshole,” You said, your feet hitting the steady ground, “If this kid pops out with his stubborn attitude. . . so help us all.” You squeezed Lloyd’s shoulders before walking into the stables to find your husband pacing the ground. You sighed and leaned up against the wall of an empty stall.

“I told you to stay away from here. From the bunkhouse, from the stables and from the-”

“I can not stay locked away in the foreman's house any longer, Rip!” You yelled, “I’m losing my fucking mind being in there all fucking day. Between you, and my dad and my brothers being so god damn over protective I am losing my fucking mind. I just wanted one second of freedom. Just one.”

Rip felt a pang of guilt and took a step forward. Before he had met you, he never thought he could have anything good in his life. He had seen all sorts of evil, he had been a part of that evil. But you showed him that he could have something good in his life. You showed him what it felt and meant to love someone unconditionally. And Rip was going to fight for that until his dying breath.

“I can’t lose you or her,” Rip said and gently placed his hands on your growing bump, “You two, are my forever. My everything. And everytime you leave my side, I think the worst. I almost lost you once,” The memory of the day the whole family got attacked plays in his mind every time you walk away from him. He spent hours trying to get ahold of you, wanting to know if you were dead or alive. Your dad was barely alive, your brother had been shot, your sister nearly blown up, and you had been run off the road by a semi.

You grabbed Rip by the back of the neck and brought his lips down to you. You pulled back and Rip rested his forehead against yours, “You’re not losing us. We are right here, forever. You’re stuck with us now, baby.”

“And there ain’t no better way I’d have it.”

#yellowstone #Yellowstone fan fic #Yellowstone fan fiction #Yellowstone imagine #rip wheeler #rip wheeler x y/n #rip wheeler x reader #rip wheeler imagine #rip wheeler fan fic #rip wheeler fan fiction #rip wheeler x you #rip wheeler yellowstone

2K notes · View notes

aquaquadrant · 1 year

Note

What would the au where tango never got experimented on and as a result never left hels look like

you said that tango would have found his way to timmy eventually and that’s really interesting if they would have been friends I wonder how close they would be

the bond like the one Jimmy and tango have was only possible because tango had spent at least a year in hermit craft learning to open up and jimmy was raised not in hels

even if tango wouldn’t have the experiment trauma he still would have trauma and Timmy well I’m pretty sure he would’ve been open to it

Can you share your headcanons on the hypothetical situation please

(i know i’ve been sitting on this ask for ages but i had to turn the idea over in my mind a few times, like really let it get in there, let it simmer, rearrange the furniture. so uh, here ya go!)

~*~

“timmy,” tango calls urgently, ducking into the netherrack cave.

“yeah?” timmy pokes his head up from their nest. there are a few stray sticks caught in his hair- he must’ve taken a nap like tango suggested, thank god.

“sminor said there were blackcoats at the market yesterday, asking about hybrids.” tango talks quickly, his tone low and impersonal. he crosses over to the double chest they’ve set up, starting to rummage through it. “we gotta go, pack your stuff.”

timmy makes a noise of dismay, sitting upright. “is sean gonna be okay?” he asks tentatively, wringing his hands together.

tango scoffs. “c’mon, you know him. long as he stays outta water, he’ll be fine.” okay, that’s everything he can carry. he pops his ender chest down and starts reorganizing, trying to fit as many resources as he can. “now we, on the other hand, happen to be a bit more visibly obvious hybrids, so like i said, we gotta go.” satisfied with his ender chest, tango mines it back up before turning to face timmy. “now c’mon, scooch, i gotta burn it.”

timmy glances down at the nest, his face falling. “but i just got it how i like it…”

“well sorry, but it’s gotta go!” tango huffs, totally unapologetic, tugging at timmy’s arm. he manages not to scratch him. “now hurry up, get packing-”

“can’t we just hole up here for a few days, til they clear out the area?” timmy asks desperately.

“timmy-”

“you hid this place really well, they’re not gonna find it.”

tango doesn’t let the compliment sway him. he knows he’s hidden their base really well; countless hours were spent mining a virtual labyrinth of tunnels through the mountain, painstakingly shaped to appear as if they generated naturally. the way up to the cave is subtly marked by ever-so-slightly misplaced blocks of netherrack, completely imperceptible to anyone who doesn’t know they’re there.

but if the rumors about the blackcoats are true, that won’t be enough.

“we can’t take that chance,” tango says sharply. he jerks his thumb back at the chest. “last warning. get packed or i’m burning it all.”

sighing, timmy finally relents, climbing over the edge of the nest and shuffling over towards the chest. his head is bowed, mouth pressed into a thin line. pouting, like a little kid. fucking typical.

leaning over the rim of the nest, tango dips his clawed fingers into the brush. he closes his eyes; fire flows from his fingertips, easy as breathing. the stick-and-leaf structure catches light almost instantly. fire crackles and pops in the still air.

timmy has turned his face away as he digs through the chest, shoulders hunching by his ears and wings tucked closed to his body. tango refuses to let himself feel bad for it. it had to be done.

“how’s your hunger?” he murmurs, stepping away from the burning nest.

“hm?” timmy doesn’t look over at him, preoccupied as he sorts his inventory.

tango sighs. “timmy. your hunger.”

“oh, uh- fine?”

“did you even check your comm?”

“i’m pretty sure it’s fine-”

“lemme see.”

“tangooo,” timmy whines, in that plaintive way of his, willing tango to drop the subject.

but tango remains firm, holding out a hand expectantly. after a moment, timmy wilts under the pressure, as expected. he meekly hands tango his communicator, glancing away.

tango quickly scans timmy’s stats. full health. thirty-eight levels (it’s been a while since his last death, tango notes with no small amount of pride). two armor points, cause of the iron boots tango made him last week. and his hunger bar-

“two haunches?” tango hisses. he can almost feel his blood start to boil. “damn it, timmy, how many times do i gotta tell you? you keep it at four at the absolute lowest, in case you have to run or fly. i told you, you don’t have to ration food, if we’re low i’ll go get more.”

timmy gives him a pleading look. “tango-”

“no- no, stop it with the puppy dog eyes! i already- i told you!” tango shoves the communicator back at timmy, none too gently. “do you want the creepy scientists to catch you? huh? want them to experiment on you? you want them to do a- a live dissection- a vivisection on you?”

“hang on,” timmy protests, a nervous tremor in his voice, “we don’t- we don’t know for sure that’s what’ll happen if they find us-”

“what do you think happens?” tango snaps, tasting flames on his tongue. he knows his blaze rods must be spitting fire at this point, but he can’t bring himself to care. “everywhere they go, hybrids disappear. what, you- do you think they’re all just enjoying some super secret hybrid party, joining hands and singing kumbaya? don’t be stupid.”

for a moment there’s silence, nothing but the steady crackling of the burning nest behind them. timmy just looks at him, those big sad eyes shining with tears, and tango’s anger extinguishes.

as easy as it is to lash out at timmy, as good as it feels to get that release, tango always regrets it pretty quickly afterwards.

“hey…” tango exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. “okay, okay, sorry. you’re not stupid.” he steps closer, carefully taking timmy’s face in his hands. “and- and i don’t wanna leave either. but it’s the only way to keep you safe. i mean- i promised i would, didn’t i?”

“yeah, i know.” timmy sniffles, avoiding tango’s gaze. “there’s… another town fifteen hundred blocks north?”

“no,” tango says, taking care not to let his voice harden. he picks a stick out of timmy’s hair before stepping away. “no towns for a while. we need to lay low til they clear the area. we’ll find a nice mountain in a forest somewhere, okay? maybe- maybe we can even have a little skylight.”

“yeah?” timmy asks, his voice going up hopefully.

“yeah.” tango pulls a cooked salmon out of his inventory, handing it to timmy. “here, eat.”

in hindsight, tango should’ve known they wouldn’t be safe for very long, living near a coastal town. oceans are few and far between in hels, so they get a lot of traffic. but god, it’s so nice to have actual meat for a change. he loathes the thought of going back to rotten flesh and spider eyes.

timmy takes the fish without complaint and starts nibbling on it. satisfied, tango turns to their double chest and breaks it, letting all the excess items and blocks spill onto the floor. a single well-aimed fireball sets the whole pile ablaze, leaving nothing but smoldering netherrack.

lastly, tango mines their respawn anchor. now that their spawn point is untethered, he feels the anxiety start to kick in with renewed force. a death now would strand them at the world spawn, and that would be all kinds of bad. he takes a final look around the cave; there’s no sign they were ever even here.

“alright, let’s get moving,” he says, putting his pickaxe away and heading for the exit tunnel.

timmy follows him out of the cave. they travel in silence for a few minutes, tango keeping an ear out for mobs since the only light they have is the faint flow of his blaze rods. lighting the area up would give them away, so they’ve had to get used to seeing in the dark.

“someday,” tango says quietly, “we’ll go far enough that we won’t have to worry about those guys ever again. and- and we’ll be able to make a little happy house together, nest and all.”

timmy hums, his arm brushing against tango’s in the dark, wing spread around his shoulders. “yeah, a proper home. i like it. we can- uh, d’you think we’ll make like, a farm or somethin’? a little cozy cottage, like a- a homestead, or…”

“a ranch?” tango suggests, feeling a grin pull at his mouth. like they’d ever find enough passive mobs for that. but for some reason, the idea appeals to him.

timmy huffs a laugh, something tango hasn’t heard for a while. “yeah, sure, we’ll be ranchers.”

“ranchers,” tango agrees. his inner fire has dimmed to a gentle warmth, now; some soft, weak thing he doesn’t have a name for. “team rancher.”

~*~

#hels to pay au #HTP fic #hermitcraft #anyway YES tango and timmy would’ve found each other if tango didn’t leave hels #it wouldn’t have been like it was with jimmy- not exactly #but they would’ve done the best they could #certainly not the worst by hels standards

279 notes · View notes

nukaberries · 1 year

Note

New Vegas companions react to a teenage courier?

Another super late post from me (I'm so sorry lmao) but better late than never! I've already said this but I love reading/writing for Teen!Sole/Courier - my courier oc is actually nineteen during the events on New Vegas so stuff like this helps with developing her too! <33

Companions React to Teen!Courier

(Includes: Arcade, Boone, Cass, Lily, Raul and Veronica)

Arcade

Straight off the bat, he's gonna have a lot more patience for a younger courier than he would an adult. He doesn't exactly have fond memories of being a teenager - but then again, who does anymore? - so he can't even begin to imagine what it must be like after what the courier had gone through. Although Arcade often prefers to avoid violence when he can, he's more than willing to resort to it when it comes to protecting the courier. However, this means he's all the more disappointed if the courier sides with the Legion, he understands they're far more impressionable and that only makes him harbour more anger towards the faction, but he'd still expected better from them.

Boone

Instantly goes into dad/big brother mode. Boone doesn't anticipate it happening, but he finds himself being much more protective over the courier than he'd like to be. He'd been so excited to be a father before Carla's death and in a strange way, the courier feels like a second chance. He won't mention it, of course, especially not at first, but he'll show that he cares in little ways like making sure Six has a larger portion of the rations than he does or by protecting them from danger before he even considers himself. Boone doesn't want to overstep, nor does he really feel comfortable talking about it, so he'll never bring up how much he cares, he just hopes the courier knows he'll protect them no matter what happens.

Cass

It doesn't make a complete difference to Cass. Of course, she's even more outraged over what Benny did to Six, finding their attempted murder horrific in general, but even more so when it's apparent the courier isn't even eighteen. While Boone takes on a paternal role, Cass quickly becomes an older sister and terrible influence all rolled into one. She'll offer Six whiskey to try, although she knows chances are they've already drank alcohol before - God knows she'd sampled enough as a teenager. She's always willing to give them advice, granted she knows it's not always the best and most moral advice, but she's doing her best regardless.

Lily

Honestly, not much about Lily's relationship with Six would change, even if they were a teenager. She takes her role as their grandma as seriously as ever, refusing to see any harm come to the courier. With Six being even closer in age to her Jimmy and Becky, it sometimes makes it even harder than it usually would for her to remember she's not actually talking to her grandchildren. She's just grateful that the courier is patient with her, even if she isn't the perfect grandma sometimes.

Raul

It's hard for Raul to not be reminded of Rafaela and Claudia when he first meets the courier - regardless of their gender. Almost similarly to Boone, he sees them as a chance to do better and actually protect someone for once (third times the charm, right?) He manages to play it off with sarcasm and quick wit, but he truly does care for Six and he wants what's best for them. Perhaps he won't always agree with their choices and he makes a point to voice that when it's the case, but there's never a day he won't stand by them. He refuses to lose someone a third time.

Veronica

She's actually really excited to meet the teenaged courier. When with the Brotherhood of Steel, Veronica would love spending time with the squires, constantly being reprimanded for distracting them from their work - sure, Six is a little bit older, but she doesn't mind. But now? She doesn't have to worry about her commanding officers telling her to buzz off, she can spend all the time with them that she wants, if they're willing to put up with her. She's definitely a better influence than Cass, or at least she tries to be, but she knows showing Six how to cheat at poker probably wasn't the best idea. Veronica will also insist that she'll deal with Benny herself, but she knows better than to get in the way of the courier and their revenge.

#this one feels kinda short #but its okay im just glad to be back #better late than never LMAO #fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout x reader #fallout courier six #fallout headcanons #craig boone #arcade gannon #rose of sharon cassidy #lily bowen #raul tejada #veronica santangelo #courier 6 #fallout imagines

328 notes · View notes

scribbling-dragon · 7 months

Text

you've got two lives down and one life left

summary:

“They're also headed over here,” Cleo says. He can hear the frown in her voice. “You're still yellow, meaning you're still target number one. They're all going to be vying for your time.” “Yeah, yeah,” he waves her concern off. “I know.” He pulls himself off the bed, trying not to wince too much at the aching in his chest. “Are they on their way yet?” “Joel’s just pulled himself out the water,” Martyn tells him.

(ao3 link)

(6,604 words)

[hey hey hey! the fishfucker series makes a grand return! this is the first of two final installments in this series,, there are some references to earlier fics in the series, so if you haven't read those there may be a little confusion, but other than that, just think: scott is a mer than works on (slightly modified) h2o: just add water mechanics. hope you enjoy! and remember- reblogs are ALWAYS super appreciated <;33]

He shakes his head in an attempt to rid himself of the disorientation that comes with a sudden death. Several faces peer at him from above, all of which shift backwards when he starts to sit up. Scar looks a little guilty, but overall pleased with himself. Scott would, personally, be a little annoyed if he didn’t look pleased with himself after gaining another thirty minutes to his timer.

“Was I right?” He asks, more occupied with finding out whether his hunch was correct or not. He can continue to regain his bearings over the next few moments.

“Yeah,” Martyn’s stood towards the edge of the hill, peering out towards their island with a spyglass. He lowers it from his eye and glances back. “They're looking around right now, all confused.”

“What did I tell you,” he grins. So sue him, he’s pleased with himself for reading the bad boys like a book; not that it’s a hard thing to do in general, they're each an open book with their motivations easy to pick apart and determine, with enough time and effort.

“They're also headed over here,” Cleo says. He can hear the frown in her voice. “You're still yellow, meaning you're still target number one. They're all going to be vying for your time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves her concern off. “I know.” He pulls himself off the bed, trying not to wince too much at the aching in his chest. Scar certainly doesn’t pull his punches, but the slight desperation in gaining time only put more force behind his blows. His chest feels as though it might cave in with too hurried a movement. “Are they on their way yet?”

“Joel’s just pulled himself out the water,” Martyn tells him, “looking rather like a disgruntled dog- oh, yeah, look. He’s shaking himself off like one, too. Grian just hit him for that. I think. Oh man!” Martyn breaks off into a laugh, “Timmy looks even worse- look, Cleo, he’s like a drowned bird.”

Cleo hums. “It reduces the intimidation factor quite significantly.”

“From what?” Scott manages to get himself completely upright, joining Cleo and Martyn in their watching of the bad boys (still a stupid nickname). “Zero into the negatives?”

“Aw, c’mon,” Martyn bumps his hip against Scott’s. “You don't need to be so mean to them, they're trying their best, you know. Look at them.”

“Joel just tripped over nothing,” Cleo announces. “And the other two are laughing at him.”

Scott looks back to the trio in time to watch Joel throw his hands up in frustration and walk away, forging a path ahead of the other two. Grian and Jimmy continue to laugh, though they're too far away for Scott to hear anything.

He’s smiling, amused at the small performance, when Joel glances up. He’s in a patch of the forest that has fewer trees, meaning they make eye contact near immediately. This is apparently enough to make him forgive his fellow teammates for their earlier transgressions, as he immediately turns back to yell at them.

“You know,” he takes a step back from the edge of the hill, “I do believe that’s my cue to do a disappearing act.”

“Have fun.” Cleo tells him, still watching the bad boys with something resembling amusement.

“Stay safe,” Martyn tells him, halfway turning away from the view. “And good luck.”

“Thank you, dear,” he blows a kiss towards Martyn, only beginning to back up more rapidly as he hears the sound of shouting approaching quicker and quicker. He scrambles around the side of the Clock Tower, a plan already quickly forming in his mind.

He digs his fingers into the cobble, lengthened nails aiding in his ascent. He makes it to the first of several ledges, pulling himself over the edge and tucking his legs a little closer. The sound of shouting has lessened, but people are still speaking below.

He inches around the edge, one hand pressed against the side of the tower for stability, ears pricked to listen to the conversation happening just below him.

“Oh, I think he went that way,” Cleo points over the hills, past where the bad boys’ base is. They're lying through their teeth right now, but the trio don't seem to pick up on those cues. As a group, they glance over at where they're pointing. Scott leans back against the wall behind him slightly, pressing a hand over his mouth to muffle a laugh. “He started running as soon as you guys did, so you're gonna have to be quick to catch up with him.”

“And how do we know you're not lying?” Joel crosses his arms, sunglasses slipping a little lower on his face with the sudden movement. He doesn’t push them back up, because that would mean uncrossing his arms and then crossing them again once he’s adjusted his sunglasses. “He’s your ally, you could be defending him. He could be here right now, and you might be lying.”

“And if you found that out, you’d kill us.” Martyn shrugs.

Scott slowly chips away at the block behind him, aware of how exposed his current position is but far too curious to hide himself somewhere safer.

“And he went that way?” Grian asks, tipping his head in the direction Cleo pointed in.

“Yes.” Cleo says. “He might have veered off elsewhere afterwards, but he headed that way.”

“He might’ve gone back to our island,” Martyn muses. “Regather supplies, y’know?”

“As if,” Joel scoffs, hefting his axe over one shoulder and begins walking away. Jimmy stays for a moment longer, eyes squinting at the small group of gathered people. His wings are puffed up behind him, making him look like an angry cat.

Jimmy follows after a moment too, and Scott watches, alongside his allies, as they descend the hill again, set on the path of a wild goose chase.

He slips down the tower after a few minutes of silence, bracing himself before dropping the last few feet. It sends a slight shock through his legs, jarring his ankles with a sharp sting.

“How would you feel about checking on our base? Joel seemed pretty confident that you I wasn’t going back there.”

“Probably because everything’s destroyed,” Martyn sighs. “We both saw him coming out of our little hidey-hole.”

Scott grimaces at the thought of what destruction Joel might have wrought on their base. Any number of traps could have been set up there in preparation for his own inevitable death. He’s only lucky that he decided to tether his spawn to the bed in the Clock Tower rather than gambling with his luck and losing a larger chunk of time.

“Well,” he starts, “I'm sure it’s nothing a little carpet won’t be able to cover up.”

=== === ===

“Woah!” He veers out the way, watching as the firework explodes into a shower of sparks and fire. The heat of it licks dangerously close to his skin, sending heat washing over him in waves. He stumbles to a stop, dirt crumbling beneath his feet as he halts.

The ground below looms, warning of the fate that awaits him if he overbalances.

Another firework shoots past his head, whistling as it misses.

“You missed!” He calls back, unable to refuse a taunt even if it’ll only anger his pursuers more. A wordless shout follows behind him, frustration bleeding into it. “You’ll have to do a little better than that to hit me!”

He glances up with a grin, only slightly out of breath. He’d barely reached the top platform after hauling himself up the ladder before they were on him, relentless in their pursuit, chasing him down like a pack of rabid animals.

Etho looks up from where he’s reloading his crossbow, face unreadable. “I'm sorry Scott, it’s gotta be you!”

“Why’s it gotta be me?” He calls back, backing up a few more steps. He hides a hand behind his back, summoning an ender pearl to hand. It settles comfortably in his palm, the cold weight of it familiar as he readies himself to fling it as far as possible.

“’Cause you’ve got the most!” Etho’s footsteps are heavy behind him, the sound of another firework exploding beside his ear deafening. He turns to glance over his shoulder, finding Etho far closer than he first thought.

He flings the ender pearl in a panic, watching as it hurtles out of sight.

Etho reaches out for him, going to grab onto him – any part of him – and teleport with him. Scott ducks out of the way, elbowing Etho in the gut as he drops himself off the side of the rickety bridge. Etho makes a punched-out noise as all the air is forced from his lungs, his hands loosening their already loose grip on him.

He plunges off the side easily after that, a fuzzy feeling already beginning to surround his limbs. Etho frowns down at him from above, lining up his crossbow for a final shot.

Said shot never hits, as the ground surges up around Scott, a purple tint overtaking his entire field of vision for a few moments. He stumbles, knees threatening to buckle from the impact. He continues running in spite of it.

His mind runs through several scenarios, each of them being discarded one after the other, as he scrambles for some kind of escape plan.

He could escape into the water, but that move is now a predictable one, and there are very few rivers deep enough that he could leave the ocean if necessary. And the ocean itself may be deep, but it’s a small area that he can do little with if he’s pursued there.

To retreat deeper into the forest would only place him closer to the bad boys and their bases, placing him directly in the line of sight of another group that wants him dead.

There’s potential in escaping to the Clockers. But their base is close to TIES’, and he’d feel endlessly guilty if he brought conflict to Cleo’s doorstep in an effort to escape the inevitable.

As he’s grasping for another idea, he almost runs directly into a low-hanging tree branch. He skids to a stop before he can collide with it, chest heaving with exertion as he glances around. Then back at the tree and its low-hanging branch. He could…

Decision made, he hauls himself up. The bark scrapes against his hands as he clambers up the tree, but he climbs it as quickly as possible while also doing his best to not shake the entire tree and give his position away.

It’s during moments like this that he almost wishes Martyn had come with him rather than scurrying off to wherever it is that he’s gone. He’d much rather have an ally beside him, one that can protect him and, in the truly dire moments, take the time rather than have an enemy gain the upper hand.

Scott whips his head around when he sees something glinting in a nearby tree, shoving his shield up just quickly enough to hear the thunk of an arrow embedding itself into it.

“Goddamnit,” is the whispered curse he hears, before Impulse is poking his head out. “How’d you see me?”

He swallows back the anxiety before he even dares speaking, only lowering his shield enough that he can peek over the edge of it. Impulse is still holding his bow, an arrow loosely notched. Scott knows full well how quickly that arrow could go from being loosely notched to embedded in his shoulder, and so he keeps the shield up.

“The sun reflected off your arrow,” he tells Impulse.

“Damn,” Impulse frowns. “I don't think there’s a way I can fix that.”

“You could just walk away?” Scott offers, “You're pretty close to eight hours, aren’t you? We’re at a similar time here Impulse. You kill me, you’ll just be switching our places – you’ll become the one with a target painted on your back.” A branch snaps on the forest floor below, quiet enough that it could easily be a curious animal poking around in the shrubbery below. “Or, I guess you could just let Etho carry out his sneak attack.”

He knows he’s hit gold the moment Impulse’s eyes widen, and the rustling of undergrowth turns into the snapping of twigs and small branches as Etho forces his way through the dense bushes to stand below the tree Scott perched himself in.

He…didn’t really think this through, actually. He’s cornered himself in this tree he sought as his sanctuary, leaving him trapped in a cage of his own making.

“Good afternoon,” he greets, nodding down at Etho. He doesn’t know what time it actually is. It could easily be early morning or late afternoon, and he wouldn’t have a single clue. “Funny seeing you here.”

“Uh-huh,” Etho ignores him, slotting a firework neatly into his crossbow and lighting the fuse. “Funny seeing you here, too, Scott.”

Scott shuffles back a little further on his branch, glancing down at the drop to the floor. Not terrible, but also not ideal. His shield catches against the fork of the tree branches that he wedged himself into. He sighs and yanks it back further, firmly wedging it into the wood before he drops.

The explosion of a firework rings in his ears, his ankles protesting the repeated abuse they’ve undergone today, sending small flares of pain up his legs with every step he takes.

Colourful sparks settle on the ground around him, residue from the previous shot.

Etho steps around the tree trunk, unperturbed, simply loading another firework into the crossbow. He hopes Etho runs out soon. He really hopes Etho runs out soon, actually.

“Nowhere to run now, Scott,” Etho says, eyes crinkling at the corners with his smile when he looks back up. He squints when he lines the crossbow up, following Scott easily, even as he takes staggering steps, trying to get Etho to shoot it early and give him enough time to duck out the way. “You’ve abandoned your shield, too. You're gonna be wishing for it back in a minute.”

“Yeah,” he laughs nervously, already wishing for his shield back. He started wishing for his shield back the moment he abandoned it in that tree.

He ducks as Etho releases the firework, rolling and hoping that it misses him. Even if it singes half his scales off, he doesn’t care anymore.

Somehow, perhaps with some divine intervention from above, the firework only catches the edge of his already torn jacket, setting a small fire that he puts out when rolling amongst the leaves.

He hops back to his feet, turning on his heel to continue run. The exhaustion dragging at his bones makes him a little slower than usual, a little more clumsy on his feet from the stress of constantly escaping and running and fleeing whoever’s decided that he’s easy pickings.

He chokes.

The feeling of something lodged in his throat brings him to a halt. A halt which almost ends with him keeled over on the forest floor as his legs abruptly weaken beneath him. he manages to avoid falling flat on his face by throwing a hand out to catch himself, the other flying to his neck.

The metal bolt from a crossbow is what greets him, when he ghosts his fingers over the skin of his neck. He can feel his gills fluttering, attempting to make up for the sudden lack of oxygen. But they're not designed for extracting oxygen from the air, not designed with that in mind at all.

His fingers come away wet with his own blood, glistening in the sparse few rays of sunlight that slice through the thick canopy of leaves above him.

A few beads of blood drop to the leaves below him, a slow pitter-patter, almost like rain, filling his ears.

“Aw, man,” he hears, despite his rapidly fading vision and hearing. “I wanted to get him. Now you're gonna be back to yellow.”

“I didn’t think it’d actually hit him! It was just meant to soften him up for you, make him a little easier to hit.”

“And what were you aiming for? His head?”

“I was aiming for his leg,” Impulse hisses. Leaves crackle underfoot nearby, but Scott doesn’t find it in himself to care. He’s already on his way out, there’s nothing more they can do to him.

“Wow,” Etho whistles. Blurry outlines appear in his peripheral vision, fading more by the second. “Your aim is terrible.”

=== === ===

Scott sighs. Again. For what feels like the fifth time in the last ten minutes.

His throat still feels weird, the new scar tissue raised and irritated. It’s only barely healed, just enough to make sure that he doesn’t start bleeding immediately upon re-entering the land of the living. Cleo grimaces at him from her seat as he runs his fingers carefully over his throat again.

“You better stop prodding at that,” she tells him. “You're going to give yourself an infection.”

“I'm not going to be sticking around long enough for an infection,” he tells her. “None of us are.”

Cleo snorts. “Might be true, but you don't need to say it.”

“Someone needs to.” He heaves himself out of his chair with a sigh. “Anyways, I'm off. Got some business to attend to.”

Cleo watches him go, one eyebrow raised. “You might not be everyone’s favourite punching bag anymore, but you're still one of the people with the highest time. You sure you wanna go alone?”

“I'm off to my death anyway,” he shrugs. An agreement is an agreement, and just because he’s died before he intended doesn’t mean he’s going to break his word. “No point in prolonging the inevitable. And they might think I'm attacking them if you come with me.”

Cleo makes a sound in the back of her throat. “Just remember that Martyn won’t be pleased if you're back in less than one piece.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he pushes the door open with his foot, waving her off. “I’ll be back in a minute, just you wait.”

He doesn’t intend for this to take long, anyway. He’s got an agreement, and he’ll stick around long enough to uphold his end of the deal. Jimmy should be waiting for him in the agreed upon spot, and then he can decide how he wants to kill Scott. It’s out of his hands at that point.

The climb up the ladder is long and boring, the waterlogged mansion looming below, a dark splotch amongst the otherwise green forest. He pokes his head out into the main house, glancing around. He’s wary of Joel and Grian being the first to see him, and only emerges once he’s certain neither of them are waiting to pounce on him.

Unfortunately, he can’t see Jimmy either, poking around in all three of the little houses and just about ready to give up on this whole thing. He might dislike breaking his word, but there’s nothing he can do if the other person isn’t here either.

“Scott!” He jumps at the sound of his name, spinning around. Jimmy grins back at him from the top of the bread loaf house. His wings flutter behind him. Once upon a time, Scott might have been able to read the exact mood Jimmy is in from the fluttering of his wings, but now he can only guess that it’s something like excitement or anticipation.

“Jimmy,” he returns the greeting. “I almost thought you weren’t here.”

“Course I'm here,” Jimmy scoffs, crossing his arms. Scott can’t see his eyes for the dark sunglasses covering them, but Jimmy is still smiling down at him. He’s managed to crack his sunglasses since Scott last saw him, running through an entire lens. “We’ve got a deal to complete.”

“That we have,” he spreads his arms out wide. “How is it you're choosing to kill me?”

Jimmy pauses. “You're gonna let me choose?”

“Makes it more fun for you that way, doesn’t it?” He cocks his head to the side, watching as Jimmy considers his options. “A little fun never hurt anyone.”

“Alright,” Jimmy shoots him a look he can’t read. Wearing sunglasses makes it infinitely harder to determine what it is that Jimmy’s thinking. He might have been grateful that Jimmy is the only one amongst his trio that knows how to wear sunglasses properly, but at least he can get a good read on Joel and Grian still. “Let’s head up, then.”

Scott glances upwards, towards the ladder leading onwards and upwards. The same ladder that has claimed several lives in recent days…hours? He’s still not sure how time passes here, several days disappearing in front of them, yet only a few hours ticking down on their timers.

“More ladders?” is what he settles on instead, “Really?”

“Good for building upper body strength,” Jimmy claims. “C’mon, you said I could choose. Up we go.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, for the umpteenth time, and begins climbing the ladder. “You could just shove me off here and have it done with. Doesn’t seem like there’s much point in climbing only to drop back down.”

“You're sure doing a lot of complaining for someone that told me to pick how I get to kill you.”

“I'm a complainer,” he glances down at Jimmy. “You know this. I do things, I complain, and that’s how all of this works.”

“I’d like it if you complained less,” Jimmy tells him. “As the person deciding your death.”

“Uh-huh,” he turns to continue climbing, only to balk at the arrow that goes flying past his nose. He looks up further, finding Joel and Grian, each holding a crossbow and peering down the small gap at him. Joel looks as though his birthday has come early, positively giddy at the thought that he might be able to kill Scott. Grian just looks annoyed.

“Excuse me,” he frowns. “This is Jimmy’s kill.” Something else falls past him as he speaks, and he presses himself closer to the ladder, before turning to glare back up at Joel. His fins, a new addition since his most recent death, press flat against the side of his head in annoyance.

“They just tried to dri- drop dripstone on you,” Jimmy tells him.

“Did you just try and steal Jimmy’s kill?” He pauses in his ascent again, looking up at Joel properly. The man is giggling, far too excited at the prospect as he stares down at Scott.

“Yeah.”

“Joel,” he frowns, continuing to climb and pulling himself out at the top. He pokes Joel in the chest, right in the middle of his chestplate. “You're gonna steal time from someone on thirty minutes?”

“Thirty-five,” Jimmy corrects.

“You're gonna steal time from someone on thirty-five minutes?” he repeats.

“He was on seven minutes earlier,” Joel tells him. He’s still grinning, but it doesn’t seem to reach his eyes in the same way it had just a few seconds ago, when the idea of killing him had still been on the table. Joel pushes his sunglasses up a little higher when he sees Scott watching him.

“That’s why I'm here,” he plants his hands on his hips. “I told Jimmy he could kill me however he wanted, and he wants to shove me off of here.”

“Oh, really?” Joel’s eyebrows rise over the edge of his sunglasses, and he looks between Jimmy and Scott. “Please, do continue. Can I watch?”

Scott sighs. “Sure, yeah. Let’s make it a public spectacle, shall we?”

“Nah,” Joel pushes him between the shoulder blades, urging him onwards and into the wheat fields they’ve got growing up here. “Let’s get going, I wanna see this now.”

The wheat brushes around his ankles and up his legs, tickling the exposed skin as they make the trek across the wheat fields. Scott does his best not to trample the crops, even with the heavy press of a crossbow against his spine and his impending death looming ever closer.

Grian mutters something to Joel that makes both of them laugh.

He doesn’t blame them for getting giddy over the idea of someone offering themselves up for death – to reach this point in the game and not begin to become excited at the idea of spilling blood is more unusual – but he’d much prefer it if they giggled about it somewhere he can’t hear them.

The fields of wheat slowly turn to churned-up dirt underfoot as they approach the far edges of the platform. He can feel the give of the dirt beneath his feet, worrying for a moment that it might give out beneath him before Jimmy can shove him off the end.

Smaller branches spiral off of the end, spiderwebbing across the entire server, overlaying Skynet. He winces at the memory of how much destruction these pathways have wrought, still feeling a flicker of fire under his skin at the memory of explosions too close and sudden to survive.

Jimmy leads him out onto one of these branches, Joel and Grian hanging back.

The dirt sinks beneath his feet now, truly unstable and threatening to leave them to plummet at any second. Jimmy sticks closer to the main chunk, readying his crossbow with twitching hands. Scott would almost say he looks guilty, fussing over a crossbow that has been loaded and ready to shoot for the past few minutes.

He feels his heel dip into open air as he backs himself up to the very edge of the platform, resisting the natural urge to glance backwards and see how far away the ground is. Doing so will only cause the dread to build further, and he’s not sure he can withstand that right now, with Jimmy continuing to fuss over the most minute of details.

Scott watches as Jimmy nudges his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose with his elbow, lining the crossbow up a moment later.

“Appreciate this,” he says, and shoots.

The impact of the hit is enough to send Scott tipping over the edge, shoulder smarting from the impact, fingers twitching. The other bad boys give a whooping cry, probably congratulating Jimmy on gaining himself a little more time.

He twists himself around midair, only to regret it a moment later as the ground surges up to greet him.

He doesn’t feel the impact, thankfully, nerves numbing and senses dulling as he shoots back up. He presses a hand to his chest, attempting to get his ragged breath under control. The feeling of air in his lungs, even after only a few moments of breathlessness, is uncomfortable.

The void stretches wide around him, water lapping at his ankles and yet refusing to reclaim him. It does not return him to the land of the living yet, seemingly content to allow him to stew in the silence for longer.

First to fall.

He jerks at the sudden voice, lurching to his feet. The water laps at his ankles, the splashing loud in the silence left in wake of the echoing words. He has heard of Them speaking to others before, choosing to bestow warnings or wisdom upon those They deem as worthy.

He has never been greeted with anything but disapproving silence on the few occasions where he has been permitted entry to this void.

You believe your sacrifice can reverse the Curse?

He stiffens, turning to try and find the source of this voice. To find a source of the gaze weighing heavily upon his back. And yet his watchers remain unseen, cloaked in the darkness that surrounds him.

He is trapped. You cannot prevent the inevitable.

“There’s no harm in trying,” he tells the open air. The empty space around him. He flexes his hands at his sides, wishing for some kind of weapon to fill the empty space there. “Every curse has a cure. That’s how things work.”

Not this one. Your efforts are foolish and misguided, your sacrifice will be in vain.

“Maybe I don't care, then.” He crosses his arms, “Have you ever considered that your shitty games are pointless? That they don't mean anything in the grand scheme of things. We’re gone for a day, maybe two. No-one misses us; we slot back in as easily as if we’d never been here at all. What’s the point when you can’t even make a lasting impression?”

That is what you think, the voices almost sound offended. A mere insect believes that when a tree shakes, it is the one causing it to do so, rather than the wind or a larger creature of greater importance.

“And I'm the bug in that analogy?” He cocks an eyebrow. “How creative of you.”

You overestimate your importance. You think you have more of an impact than you truly do. In reality…you are nothing more than an after-thought.

“Then why include me at all?” He laughs, “I fuck up your plans every time. Tell me, did you decide on me being the first Boogeyman as a joke? Or were you just so upset over last time that you couldn’t resist.”

Their silence permeates the air.

“Or, tell me this, actually: did it frustrate you that it was done so easily? That the usual build-up and betrayal was missing from the equation – is that why you were so desperate to create another? To make up for the way I've been ruining your games?”

You know not of what you speak. The voices are definitely offended this time. The tiny pest continues to believe itself more important than it is. Fine, a huff reverberates around him, return to your life. See how far your sacrifice carries the Canary.

He opens his mouth to respond, but the water surges up around him before he can say anything, muffling any words he tries to yell at these divine beings with Their overinflated egos.

He huffs out a breath as he resurfaces, pressing a hand to his chest again. This is beginning to become uncomfortably familiar. Feeling the way his heart gradually slows beneath his palm. The way his chest slowly stops rising and falling so quickly, breaths evening out into something less dizzying.

“Scott!”

He looks up at the familiar voice, smiling at the rapidly approaching Martyn.

“I'm back,” he pats the bed below him a little, swinging his legs over the side. “Hi.”

“Yeah, hi.” Martyn reaches him, trousers soaked below the knee and looking more than a little worried. “What happened?”

“I had a deal with Jimmy, remember?” He tilts his head to the side, watching how Martyn follows his every movement. His hands flutter anxiously around Scott, as though wanting to touch him but unsure whether he can.

Scott grasps his wrist gently, pulling it forward until it rests on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I remember now.” Martyn frowns. “How much longer have you got left now, then?” Martyn could easily glance down at his wrist, see the timer ticking merrily down himself, but he chooses not to, for some reason.

“Long enough,” Scott tells him. He’s still easily got the highest timers out of most of their allies and enemies, but there’s no reason to reveal such a thing to the pair loitering just behind Martyn.

He raises his eyebrows at Pearl and BigB, looking back at Martyn for a response. Martyn gives a small shrug, squeezing his shoulder once before releasing him completely. Scott stands, peering around at the almost invisible shards of glass scattered amongst the water.

He grimaces at the thought of jumping down and impaling himself on those by accident, sympathetic aches flaring up along his legs.

“Didn’t think you’d be appearing around here anytime soon, Scott,” Pearl greets. “Nice of you to drop in.”

“Ha-ha, aren’t you funny,” so maybe he’s still a little sore over Pearl attempting to attack them in the middle of the night. She seems to have moved past it rather easily seeing as she’s been setting up a trap alongside Martyn for however long – presumably for as long as Martyn disappeared for.

“C’mon,” Martyn grabs him by the elbow, surprisingly gentle over the new scales and fins. He feels the way Martyn swipes a thumb over the patchy scales, a question written into the furrow of his brow. “There’s a few of us gathered down here, and they’ll only get more and more suspicious the longer we hang around for.”

“We’ve got something else to be doing, anyway,” Pearl says. She hops out of the water easily, walking along the cobblestone path cutting through the water and leading towards the Clock Tower. “Just gonna have to wait and see with this one.”

“I'm sure someone’ll jump down sooner or later,” he replies. Martyn doesn’t release his grip on Scott’s arm, continuing to hold onto him even as it makes walking down the narrow path a little more awkward.

“We’ll just have to wait and see who falls for it first.”

He groans. “Martyn, dear, that might be one of your worst ones yet.”

“Really? I actually thought that was quite good- hey! Pearl! What did you think of that one? Pearl? Why aren’t you responding?”

=== === ===

Scott jumps at the flurry of motion beside him, leaping back and away from the bed. He watches as Martyn flails out of it in a tangle of sheets and limbs, landing with a dull thump on the floor.

Scott watches, amused, as Martyn rests his head on the floor and lets out a groan.

“Having fun?” He asks.

“Scott!” Martyn jerks his head upwards, “Uh, hello. Didn’t realise you were there.”

“I gathered,” he crouches down in front of Martyn. “Need a hand up?”

“No, I’m…I'm fine, actually.” Martyn sighs. He then begins to untangle himself from the bedsheets, wriggling around awkwardly on the floor. Scott watches, still crouched in front of Martyn as he seems to only get himself even more tangled. “I- ugh.”

“Do you need a hand?” He asks again, watching as Martyn continues to struggle for a moment before going entirely limb.

“Yes, please.”

“See,” he unwinds a tangled bit of the bedding, releasing one of Martyn’s arms. “No harm in asking for help, hm?”

“I'm perfectly capable of asking for help.” Martyn sits up as Scott untangles his other arm, leaving him able to untangle himself easily. “It’s you that seems incapable of such a thing.”

“I ask for help when I need it.”

“Uh-huh, then what’s all this?” Martyn gestures at him, the vague way he spreads his hands out not at all helping with Scott’s confusion.

“What’s all what?”

“You, right now.” Martyn catches one of his hands. “I haven’t seen you since you turned red, and then you turn up out of nowhere, freshly dead, and you look sick.”

“It’s just a few aesthetic changes,” he scoffs. Martyn ignores him in favour of studying his hands, scales now covering most of them and webbing stretching between his fingers. “Don't poke at that, it’s sensitive.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Martyn stops prodding and stretching the webbing on his hands, looking up at him guiltily. “You're not bothered by this? Everyone might have seen your other form, but that’s very different to being unable to choose what you look like.”

“I expected it,” he lies. “Red lives always look a little…different. I mean, the first time around everyone went grey. Jimmy looked like he was a strong breeze away from collapsing at all times. I think I've gotten a slightly better end of the stick, here.”

“Hm, well I certainly won’t disagree with you there,” Martyn brings his hand up to his lips and presses a kiss to it. The sudden warmth on his cold, and rather sensitive, scales sends a tingle up his arm and down his spine. “It’s much easier to admire you like this when I'm not a few moments away from drowning.”

He laughs, even as he feels his face growing a little warmer. “Always a flatterer.”

“Is it flattery if it’s true?” Martyn leans back from where Scott has moved forward to continue talking. “Flattery implies that I'm trying to get something out of you, and simply trying to get on your good side in order-”

Scott quiets him with a chaste kiss, grinning with some satisfaction when Martyn shuts up immediately, even going so far as to lean after him when he pulls back.

“You talk too much, sometimes.”

“Good thing I have you here to shut me up,” Martyn’s fingers curl into his hair, pulling slightly but not enough to be painful. “Though, I do often find myself without words around you. You really steal my breath away.”

He sighs, pulling back. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

“You didn’t even know it would work,” Martyn pokes him in the chest. “How long did you think regular people could breathe underwater for? Ten minutes? You were a regular person up until this round of the games, and you forget it so easily?”

“I was certainly not a regular person.”

“Alright, Mr. Pedantic, you weren’t capable of breathing underwater before this, and yet you still managed to forget the need for air?”

“I had it all sorted. You’d have died otherwise; alternatively, I could have just left you to Pearl and BigB.” He narrows his eyes. “See if I’ll save you next time.”

“Aw, no,” Martyn reaches after him, grabbing his face between his hands. “That evening was a great experience. I’d never known such things could be done-”

“Do you have no sense of decency,” he interrupts, pressing a hand firmly over Martyn’s mouth.

“No kiss to shut me up this time?”

Scott frowns at him, opening his mouth to respond. He closes it a moment later, tilting his head to the side. His fins quiver slightly, perking upwards as he listens. Martyn’s gone stiff as well, head tilted in the same way as Scott in order to listen.

“Can you hear…”

“The Canary Call,” Martyn finishes. “Damn. I almost thought Joel might go out first this time.”

Scott doesn’t respond to that, and Martyn doesn’t continue talking. They both want to see how long it’s going to take before the song cuts out, before that lilting melody fades and leaves nothing but silence in its wake.

He winces at the final drawn out note, the pitch rising to something painful.

In the silence afterwards, Scott finds that his previously light-hearted mood has been destroyed. Martyn’s watching something just over Scott’s shoulder, eyes far away and not seeing anything that’s actually there.

Scott tries not to look too closely at Martyn as he regathers himself, not wanting to see the glassy sheen of almost-death covering his eyes.

Scott only allows himself to look again when Martyn sucks in a deep breath, loud and jarring, filling the silence where, he realises, Martyn previously hadn’t been breathing. The glassy sheen is gone, but the look in his eyes doesn’t return them to their previously playful moment.

“Well,” Martyn breathes.

“Well.” Scott returns. “I guess that’s the beginning of the end.”

Martyn laughs. “I almost wanted it to last longer. I thought it might, even with the ever-present timers counting down our every second.”

“Nothing to be done now,” there’s a bitter taste in his mouth. At knowing that They had been proven right once again, that there is no escaping of whatever they ordain as fate. He wonders if They’re laughing right now, gleeful over claiming the Canary once more. Or perhaps they're watching for his reaction, to see how he feels as his sacrifice amounts to nothing.

“No,” Martyn sighs. “Guess not.”

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

102 notes · View notes

fannyyann · 1 year

Photo

Matthew Tkachuk, the Panthers’ goalie-goading throwback, delivers hits — and wins — when it counts

by Hailey Salvian and Jeremy Rutherford

Matthew Tkachuk put his father in “timeout.”

That’s why Keith Tkachuk, an 18-year veteran of the NHL and one of the league’s best American-born players, wasn’t available to talk about his son’s remarkable run that has taken the Panthers from “biggest disappointment” to one win from the Eastern Conference finals.

On a Toronto radio station in March, the elder Tkachuk called the Panthers “soft.” By many accounts, that assessment was accurate at the time, and the words seemed to light a fire under the team — as did Paul Maurice’s tirade on the bench the same day during a game against the Maple Leafs.

Florida won its next six games and went 6-1-1 down the stretch to qualify for the playoffs.

Now, there’s no time for distractions, and Matthew wants to keep a lid on his pops, who informed The Athletic of his “timeout” via text.

After upsetting the 65-win Bruins in the first round, the Panthers are the betting favorites to win the Stanley Cup, leading 3-0 in their second-round series against Toronto with a chance at a sweep Wednesday at FLA Live Arena.

And the 25-year-old Tkachuk — in the midst of another career year that would have been MVP-worthy had it not been for Connor McDavid’s otherworldly season — has led the way, from scoring game-winning goals and delivering rousing speeches in the room, to delivering cross checks and goading goaltenders into fights.

He’s the player people love to hate, and he’s building a following of haters as he pushes the Panthers along in the postseason.

And even though the person who’s been most influential in Matthew’s career isn’t talking, others are. The Athletic spoke with a dozen people who for years have tracked Tkachuk’s brand of hockey — he’s a highly skilled agitator (a modest 6-2, 201 pounds) who opponents hate to play against.

Keith — known as ‘Walt,’ a nickname given to him by Winnipeg Jets teammate Eddie Olczyk because his surname was so similar to former Ranger Walter Tkaczuk — was traded to the Blues in 2001. Matthew, only 3 years old at the time, would start playing hockey with a youth program in St. Louis. Let’s just say he wasn’t a phenom.

Chantal Tkachuk, Matthew’s mom: They thought they were getting this ringer of a kid. We went to his first game and he was terrible. He was by far the worst player on the ice.

But that wouldn’t last long. Tkachuk improved steadily, adding a diverse skillset, and working through minor hockey, the U.S. national team program and the Ontario Hockey League.

Jimmy O’Brien, longtime family friend, owns OB Clark’s bar in St. Louis: They had a goal in their backyard, and 50 pucks would be lying in the driveway. Anytime you pulled up to the back of the house, you had to watch from running over the pucks because the driveway was littered with them.

Jon Benne, longtime family friend and strength trainer: I used to take wrist shots at him, and he’d knock them into the net. So when I see him tip a goal in now, I’ve seen that a million times.

Jordan Janes, St. Louis Junior Blues coach (2009-10): Matthew would do some of these between-the-legs (moves) before anybody was doing that. I would always look over at Keith and smile because in my mind I’m thinking, “Holy s— ,” like this is incredible that a 14-year-old is doing this. But you could tell that Keith, who was a “go to the net hard” type of guy, it drove him crazy.

O’Brien: His father told him, “If you ever do that stuff in a game and it doesn’t work, you won’t get off the bench.”

Taryn Tkachuk, sister: He’s not going to do that stuff just to do it. The through-the-legs goal against Nashville, he was like, “There was no way I could’ve shot that regularly.” He practiced that all growing up, so he knows he’s going to be able to do it.

Rob Simpson, assistant general manager of the London Knights: He would try new things all the time. It speaks to how smart a player he is. He was always trying to be creative in different ways to produce or make plays based on what he is seeing against defenders or what they’ve done against him before. He’s always been a creative, out-of-the-box thinker.

There are elements of Tkachuk’s game that can be traced back to the fact that he is Keith Tkachuk’s son.

Don Granato, Tkachuk’s coach with the U.S. National Team Development Program (2013-15): I think you can give some credit to — if not genetics, then just being around his father over the years.

Chantal Tkachuk: When Keith was still playing, they got to go down to the rink, skate after practice. Some of the players would play around with them.

O’Brien: He was a rink rat. He was always hanging around his dad, always going to his practices.

Barret Jackman, Blues defenseman (2002-15): I remember the coaches would have to come by and say, “Hey Walt, practice was supposed to start 10 minutes ago. Can you get Matthew off the ice?”

Benne: Matthew would be sitting on the bench the whole practice, and Keith would come over and say, “Watch T.J. Oshie. Watch how he goes into that corner and comes out.” Matthew would just be sitting there with a helmet on, just absorbing it all.

O’Brien: It’s hard to get a better education in the hockey world than sitting there with professionals and watching them at a young age.

Chantal Tkachuk: Every night, we always watched hockey. The boys would get up before school and the first thing they would do is turn on NHL Network.

Taryn Tkachuk: That was the only thing we really watched on TV. We never really watched other shows on Disney channel.

Chantal Tkachuk: Keith retired in 2010 and stepped away from his career and took almost five years off. In that time, he totally devoted all his time to youth hockey. That happened to align with the most important developmental years of the boys’ lives.

Janes: Keith knew what it took to get there. He demanded a work ethic out of his boys. Goals or not, assists or not, he just wanted to see you work. If you worked, Keith was happy. He knew if you did that, everything else would come.

O’Brien: One of Walt’s favorite things to say is, “Hey, you didn’t win? Play better!”

Taryn Tkachuk: Oh, he says it all the time. If someone didn’t play as well and maybe they’re complaining, like, “The ref did this or that,” or, “The other team wasn’t letting me do this,” my dad is just like, “Play better!” Nothing else. It’s just “Play better!”

Janes: That quote is the most Keith quote I’ve ever heard.

Growing up, Matthew was always competing with his brother Brady (23), and sister Taryn (20). Whether it was roller hockey, basketball or a made-up game they called “trampoline football.”

Benne: Matthew, Brady and Taryn would be on the trampoline, which was enclosed, and I would throw the football in the air as high as I could into the trampoline. It became an MMA wrestling match to see who got the football.

Taryn Tkachuk: I don’t even know how the game got made up. I just remember it being very physical. Literally whoever had the ball, you were about to get decked.

O’Brien: We were playing a two-on-two basketball game, and there were some of the most violent fouls you’ll ever see in your life. I had a bloody nose when we were done.

Taryn Tkachuk: If we were playing basketball, Matthew would never let me just go in for an easy layup. Of course he was going to foul me.

Jackman: I remember during one of the lockouts, Matthew was 15 at the time, and he skated with some of the NHL guys. I went into the corner with him, thinking I was going to play him hard. He tried to reverse hit me, and then he came out of the corner with the puck on his stick. He didn’t back down, even at 15, and I was in my early 30s.

Chantal Tkachuk: The most somebody hates to lose, that would be him.

Tkachuk committed to play at the USA Hockey National Team Development Program a few years before his first season there. But, at 16 years old, there was a learning curve playing with the national team and in the USHL, an under-20 league. In his first USHL season, he scored only 17 points in 33 games. He would double that production one year later in fewer games.

Granato: We knew of his talent, but in his first year, his production wasn’t there.

Nick Fohr, U.S. NTDP associate coach (2013-15): He wouldn’t shoot it. He literally wanted to show off those hands all the time.

Granato: I would tease him a bit. I’d say, “Hey Matthew, do you like to score?” And he’d say, “Yeah.” And I’d say, “No, you like to stickhandle.” He was so good at it, but I needed him to see that he wasn’t going to be that up-and-down-the-rink player.

Fohr: He wanted to have that agitator piece to him because it was kind of ingrained into him at that point, but he wasn’t big enough or strong enough to do any of that stuff at 16 years old.

Chantal Tkachuk: It was the second year in the program. That was the point where we thought he could make it.

Fohr: He played most of his second year with Auston Matthews and Jack Roslovic, which was an unreal line. Auston was the marked man, and Matthew — after being around his dad — was like, well, “Auston is my center, nobody is touching him.” And he started to become that guy. Any little scrum, he was right in the middle of it to make sure that his teammates were taken care of.

Granato: By the midpoint of the second year, he was playing just like he plays in the NHL right now. He was great in the same areas of the ice, great in the same ways.

In the 2016 Memorial Cup Final, the London Knights were in overtime against the Rouyn-Noranda Huskies. Tkachuk, in his first (and only) season in the OHL, took the puck up the left side, toe-dragged around a defender and scored the game-winning goal.

Aaron Berisha, London Knights teammate: At first, it looked like he was on a harmless rush.

Simpson: Matthew could always elevate at the right times.

Robert Thomas, Knights teammate (2015-16), and family friend: We always joked that Christian Dvorak actually tipped it, but obviously Matthew got all the credit for it. Just a big-time player making a big-time play.

Simpson: It’s not just by coincidence that he’s big in the right moments. He puts in the work.

Fohr: He’s in those moments because it’s just who he is. You saw it on the overtime goal against Boston. He knows somebody’s got to go in there and get the puck, somebody’s got to go screen the goalie.

Simpson: He wasn’t the one who shot it in the net, but if he didn’t have the sense and savvy to pop out and screen the goalie, it doesn’t go in.

Fohr: It’s no surprise that you see him do it in overtime in Game 7 because he does it every shift, every game.

Janes: The way Matthew was (growing up) and the way he is today, he will do what it takes for his team to win a hockey game. Period.

Because of his ability to stir up drama on the ice and (at times) cross the line, Tkachuk is one of the most polarizing players in the league.

Fohr: He’s that guy that everybody hates unless he’s on your team.

Benne: I don’t think Matthew came into the league fearing anybody. He just played with that edge, like, “I’m here, I’ve arrived, and look out!”

Granato: He could stoke a situation and get it stoked and get everybody’s emotions running on overdrive. And then, even in a highly emotional state that he stirred up, he will execute where many, many skilled players cannot.

Fohr: If he’s agitated somebody somehow, now a little bit of their focus is on Matthew and it takes just a little bit of focus off what they’re good at and impacts so much of the game.

Granato: It’s like a diversionary tactic, and a highly effective skill that he brings. He’s always ready to score the goal after he disrupts the situation, where other guys just want to take his head off. He never loses sight of, OK, while you’re trying to do that, I’m going to be scoring a goal.

Benne: He’s just going to play hard. He’s going to hit you, and he expects to get hit himself. If you watch that game against Toronto, he hammered two guys, and then he got hammered. Not whining, that’s the way the game goes. That’s the way he plays. He’s pretty fearless out there, but I think he plays right on the line. That’s where he wants to be.

Thomas: It was in full force in London. He’d always find himself mixing it up. He’s feisty and he’s got all the skill in the world. Some people just have it, and he definitely has it.

Berisha: It’s funny when people play against him and say, “Man, I hate playing against him, he seems terrible.” He’s actually one of the best guys ever.

Taryn Tkachuk: Matthew has this switch. Off the ice, he’s a completely different person: super nice, super fun. Once he steps on the ice, the switch just goes off and he puts on these different goggles and just has this compete level that you don’t even know how to explain.

The most common ways to describe Tkachuk: He’s a throwback. He’s a unicorn. He’s just like Keith … and maybe better.

Eddie Olczyk, TNT analyst, former teammate of Keith (1991-96): You see (Matthew) and it’s like turning back the clock 25, 30 years to when we played with each other in Winnipeg.

O’Brien: Walt played in an extremely physical era, and the way Matthew plays is refreshing because it’s a throwback to how it was all the time.

Janes: One thing Keith taught these boys at a young age was, if you want to score, you’ve got to be around the net. They got that right from Keith. They just took it a step further as far as their skillset goes.

Fohr: It’s just a place he’s not afraid to go to. Some players are. They don’t want to go there because it’s a hard area to play in because the D are big and strong. There’s an art to getting there and doing it the right way and Matthew has mastered it.

O’Brien: When Walt was playing, you’d see a big guy out there and you wouldn’t think a guy like that has deft hands. But Walt had sick hands, especially tipping pucks. And that’s one of Matthew’s strengths, too.

Olczyk: Matthew will make a play and you go, “Well, there’s Walt.” It’s eerie, but it’s not surprising that the boys are a chip off the old block.

Chantal Tkachuk: To this day, they tease me because skating has always been Matthew’s deficiency, so they make fun of the fact that I taught him how to skate. Keith will take credit for everything else.

Granato: Matthew plays the same kind of style as his dad. He just does it with more talent.

Fohr: To be a thorn in the side of the opponents and then have that elite ability on top of it, that’s pretty special.

Simpson: It’s very hard to find hockey sense that is that elite but also comes with the poise to make the play when it matters most.

Taryn Tkachuk: He’s literally doing every single aspect of what different players bring in a hockey game. It just makes him so unique.

Benne: Matthew doesn’t care what the media writes about him. Matthew doesn’t care if the fans boo him. Boston is going to hate him now, and Toronto is going to hate him after this series. But that’s what drives him. He wants to perform. He wants to put on a show. But more important than anything, he just wants to win.

#matthew tkachuk #for those without an atheltic subscription #because this profile is golden

193 notes · View notes

sydsaint · 7 months

Text

Summary: Knight faced a devastating loss at Crown Jewel. But his GM girlfriend isn't about to let him lose his confidence over it.

You're sitting backstage at Crown Jewwel with your fellow General Manager, Adam Pearce. The two of you are discussing teams for the upcoming Survivor Series event while the main event is going on out in the arena.

"Now if they want us to run Judgment Day vs Cody, Jey, Sami, and a fourth person. Does that mean we're not doing a Raw V Smackdown match?" You ask Pearce who shrugs at you.

"Maybe they plan on making the women's match Raw v Smackdown?" He suggests. "Which, is a bit of a disappointment, I will admit."

You nod in agreement with Pearce's observation. "I know. I was looking forward to kicking your ass at Survivor Series." You tease him with a laugh.

"Right." Pearce chuckles with you. "La Knight, Grayson Waller, and Austin Theory being your core team, right?" He asks you knowingly.

"Well, they do work very well together." You grin. "Anyhow, congratulations on picking up the Creeds from NXT." You add. "Those two are very much future tag champs. And Ivy is decent as well."

Pearce nods and the two of you mingle some more about work. You are mulling over more Survivor Series ideas when Grayson and Austin show up from the locker room.

"What are you two doing out here?" You raise a brow at the pair when they make their way over to you and Pearce.

"We came looking for you," Austin replies.

"Yeah, didn't you see what happened out in the ring?" Grayson adds.

You turn away from Pearce with a worried look. "What are you two talking about?" You ask them with worry.

"He lost, Y/N. Not clean." Austin answers you.

"Oh no." Your heart drops in your chest as you turn back to Pearce. "Adam, I'm sorry,"

Adam nods and steps out of the way for you. "It's alright, go take care of your man." He smiles at you.

"Thanks, Adam." You match his smile and briefly turn back to Grayson and Austin. "Go back to the locker room, I'll catch up with you two later. okay?" You ask them.

"Hey, we want to help, Y/N." Austin protests.

Grayson nods in agreement. "Yeah, he's our friend too, Y/N." He reminds you.

"I know I know." You sigh. "But I doubt he wants to see either of you right now. Even if it is as friends. Just, go back to the locker room please?" You ask them again.

Grayson and Austin both begrudgingly nod and turn to leave. "Tell him we said that we're sorry he lost," Austin asks you.

"Yeah, and that we're here to chat if he wants to." Grayson nods.

"I will. Thank you two." You nod and head off to console your boyfriend who is surely a mess of self-pity and angst right about now.

For more than a month now you've been listening to Knight boast and brag about how he was going to beat Roman tonight. And of course, you've been believing in him. But now that he's not only lost but lost by cheating? You can't imagine how shitty he feels right now.

You make your way down to the gorilla entrance just as Knight has finally dragged himself up the ramp and through the curtain.

"Shaun, hey sweetie." You drop the professionalism in your tone that you usually carry when you're at work.

"I lost," Knight replies in a broken tone that makes your chest hurt. He's usually so carefree and confident. But not this time. Not now.

You take a step forward with open arms and offer Knight a hug. He leans forward without hesitation and buries his face in your shoulder in defeat. He might be twice your size and almost a foot taller than you are, but right now he might as well be a little kid the way he clings to you in defeat.

"I know baby. And I'm sorry. I should have banned Jimmy and Solo from ringside." You scold yourself silently for your assumption that Solo would be too tired from his fight with Cena which Jimmy was supposed to help him with.

"I was so fucking close." Knight scolds himself. "And I let it slip right through my fingers." He sighs into your shoulders. "Like a damn fool."

You bite your lip and try to come up with something comforting to say. Anything to make Knight feel better.

"Hey." You speak softly. "Come on, Shaun, sweetie. You did your best and gave it your all. Screw Roman for cheating, okay? And trust me, if I could do something about it, I would." You assure him. "You're still the megastar I love, alright? And you know the fans still love you, win or lose."

"I know." Knight sighs but stands back up straight again. "I still feel like shit though." He adds. "Hell, I'm surprised the two stooges aren't down here with you to rub it in."

You giggle and shake your head. "They wanted to come down and see you, but I sent them back to the locker room. And hey, they said that they were sorry you lost, just so you know." You correct his assumption.

"Now come on, I've got about an hour before the post-show press conference starts, and you've got meet and greets to get to. So let's go back to the locker room and get you cleaned up and back to the sexy, confident guy I know and love." You grab his hand and start leading him through the backstage area.

"Whatever you say, darlin'." Knight nods, a small smile playing on his face as you lead him away from all the noise.

#wrestling #wwe #wwe fandom #wwe fanfiction #laknightedit #la knight fanfic #la knight #wrestling fic #wrestling fandom #wrestling fanfiction #syd's wrestling fics

78 notes · View notes

captain-writes · 1 year

Text

Scared and Safe

It wasn’t uncommon for the life games to include some kind of pause or general cease fire for the mental health of the Players. Especially with the way that Limited Life centered on time, it was important to remember to take a breath and feel safe for a while.

Still, Scott definitely wasn’t expecting that he and Martyn would get a frantic visitor to the Coral Isles during the break. When Jimmy came dashing out of the tree, Scott’s first reaction was to check for what mobs were after the poor man. Finding none, he became incredibly confused.

“Martyn, we have a visitor,” he alerted the other man, causing him to pop out from the storage area they had created.

“Timmy? What?” It was as the words came out of Martyn’s mouth that both Mean Gills realized that Jimmy was not only terrified of something but crying as well. With it being a break, they were quickly growing concerned for whatever the cause had been.

“Martyn? Scott?” Jimmy’s voice sounded confused, as though he hadn’t known where he was going. He hesitated for a moment before approaching a bit more.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Scott asked gently, not wanting to frighten his husband any further.

“It’s just so loud. They’re so loud, needed my Property Police,” Jimmy responded, shoulders hunched in as one hand came up to cradle an ear.

Martyn nearly swore under his breath, immediately going to reach out, “Loud? Oh Jimmy, you can hear them too? It’s okay, come here, we’ve got you.”

Scott simply grew more confused at the disjointed conversation, watching as his current partner practically cradled Scott’s still distressed husband to his chest, “Too? What’s going on?”

“Did Jimmy ever explain the Listeners to you?”

Scott’s brow furrowed, “A bit, once. Oh, is he hearing them and the Watchers right now?”

“Yeah. Do we have extra space? Or a spare bed? I don’t want to send him back to the mansion tonight, especially on his own,” Martyn admitted as he looked down at the, now much calmer, visage of Jimmy, who had gone from terrified to tired.

“Sure, an extra bed shouldn’t be too hard. Jimmy? Are you okay staying here tonight?”

The exhausted man hummed a positive note, his words clearly slurring with his tired mind, “Mhm, safe here. Safe with my Martyn and my Petal.”

The Mean Gills exchanged wide-eyed glances as they registered Jimmy’s words, realizing that the man had fully slipped into sleep after uttering them. Between them, they managed to settle all three of them across a few beds that they pulled together, keeping Jimmy secure in between them as they slipped off to sleep.

The next morning, a few messages hit the server-wide chat:

Grian: Does anyone know where Jimmy went? Grian: He didn’t come back to the mansion last night. Joel doesn’t know either. Smajor: We have him. We might need a longer game pause.

#listener jimmy #listener martyn #traffic series #trafficshipping #flower husbands #property police #limited life #limited life series #trafficblr #traffic smp #mean gills #jimmy solidarity #jimmy solidaritygaming #Solidarity Gaming #solidaritygaming

290 notes · View notes

is-the-empires-clip-cute · 3 months

Note

So, I’ve recently gotten this Jimmy. He’s been settling in very well with my other emperors, and my Lizzie instantly took to him. However, I noticed that my Scott was beginning to show signs of courtship, though it took me a bit to realize he wasn’t trying to be aggressive, as I’d never witnessed one before. It seemed to be going alright, but then my Lizzie started targeting my Scott, cornering and trying to intimidate him, but she instantly stops when my Jimmy is around. She hasn’t physically attacked him yet, but I’ve separated them, just in case. I was hoping I could let my emperors roam free and all interact with each other, but now I’m worried that I’ll have to keep my Scott or Lizzie locked in so they don’t hurt each other. Any idea why she started to get so territorial?

Hi there, thanks for the ask!

I understand your concern on all fronts - elven courtship is a stand out and highly unique ritual that definitely isn't for the faint of heart, and any responsible emperor owner would be concerned with territorial behaviour. However, I am pleased to reassure you than the behaviour of your Lizzie is not a result of any actual behavioural issues - in fact, your Lizzie being so well bonded to her Jimmy is a complete credit to your emperor husbandry. This behaviour is great indicator that you've successfully recreated the natural, mutually beneficial and familial relationships wild Lizzies are inclined to form with their closely related brother species, the Jimmy Solidarity.

But enough of my biology geeking - you came here seeking advice. I've already mentioned the behaviour of your Lizzie is entirely natural, but here's why - it is a completely normal reaction of a rescued or freshly mature Lizzie to witnessing the courtship behaviours of Jimmy and his mate towards each other. The fact is, your Lizzie has never seen elven courtship rituals either - to her, Scott is initiating his own kind of territorial dispute and general challenge to her bonded Jimmy, and as the larger and more powerful species, she will see it as her duty to muscle in and protect Jimmy. Indeed, keeping an eye on her "Little brother" is what she was born for, and while she's doing a very good job, it's understandably distressing for you and your Scott. You never mentioned how old your Lizzie was, or where exactly you got her from (Wild caught, rescue, domestic bred, etc) but both of these are contributing factors to the intensity of this behaviour - although almost all Lizzies will have protective instincts like this, only some will have this strong of a reaction. This is usually the case of rescued Lizzies who have not been bonded with a Jimmy before, or freshly matured Lizzies who are in the same situation. This does happen in the wild too - imagine the battering a Scott might get when there are multiple bonded Lizzies to one Solidarity.

However the most important thing to note about this behaviour is it is temporary - this will not affect the future of your emperor colony nor will it have any poor effect on your emperors if managed correctly. Keeping an eye on your emperors is vital - many have reported baby monitors and home security, such as a cheap camera above any popular communal areas are extremely effective for amateur behaviour monitoring. The main function of this is to ensure that no one is getting hurt or having prolonged fights while you're away, as these are signs the behaviour phase is not playing out as planned (though you can also find some hilarious clips) Provided nothing of the sort is found, you can be reassured that this stage will play out eventually and the house will return to normal. Whether this is because the Lizzie figures out nothing is wrong or because the Scott finally gets over the prolonged hostile stage of his courtship ritual and actually starts behaving romantically towards your Jimmy is entirely up to the individual temperaments of personalities of your group. Rest assured, it will end, and in the meantime, maybe your Scott getting what was coming to him after being such a big bully in courtship, heh.

Thanks again for the ask,

Mod Darwin :)

#empires smp #empiresblr #advice #empires jimmy #empires scott #empires lizzie #scott smajor #dangthatsalongname #lizzie ldshadowlady #ldshadowlady #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #mod darwin

27 notes · View notes

thedo0zyslider · 4 months

Text

Generally plot synopsis of my fwhimmy tangled au. Because I have no one else to tell this too but tumblr dot com

Basically when Jimmy was young, the cod and salmon were very big enemies, and whatever was happening was making the cod deathly sick. To protect him, Lizzie hid her brother and herself in a tower. But as the years passed, the problem was slowly solved, and now all the fish folk get along pretty well. But Lizzie had always told Jimmy the outside was dangerous, and he had to stay inside. She wasn't she how to tell him otherwise, but considered doing so. Eventually she starts lying, so things won't change and she can keep him close forever, while also enjoying the life she'd started to build outside the tower. (I have more thoughts and ideas for Lizzies character here don't you worry. She's very complex and I can't wait to dig into that more >:])

For his whole life, Jimmy is stuck in the tower. He doesn't mind it really, but he can see a river just outside his window. His instincts are always telling him to go to the water!! Go to the river!! But he's a little scared, admittedly. But but, he's also eighteen and maybe it would be a good birthday present. Maybe Lizzie would let him leave the tower, just once, on his birthday? She doesn't, but it's a good attempt, and it only makes Jimmy more motivated to leave no matter what.

And then we have fwhip, the prince of their kingdom. The royal family has its own issues, but in short they leave the prince feeling a more than a little slighted. Like his sister Gem gets more attention than him. So naturally, he starts acting up, starts doing petty crimes, because they can't arrest him. The only thing they can do is scold him and lock him in the castle, which he can always sneak out of.

One day, when the summer festival is being set up, fWhip almost ruins it. Which means he's in pretty good trouble and currently being chased down. (the two thieves flynn allies with in the movie are replaced by sausage and joey, guards who are very close to the head guard, xornorth) So he runs from the guards, and manages to loose them in the woods. And in the woods he finds a tower with a boy in it, who knocks him out lol. But once fwhip is awake, Jimmy seizes his opportunity. If fwhip takes him to the water, then he'll keep the prince out of trouble. And fwhip agrees, because its the only way to get back into town without being arrested (and maybe he thinks jimmy is kinda pretty)

and then he learns about lizzie, whos his friend, and how he's been keeping her brother hostage and lying to him for what has to be a decade at this point. safe to say fwhip is. greatly horrified. he realizes he cant let jimmy go back to the tower, and starts workshopping a plan to get them both back to the castle safely. he doesn't care about whatever trouble hes in anymore, jus getting jimmy out of his horrible living situation.

You know the bar they go to in the movie? Yep, that's fill of hermits!! fwhip frequents the tavern when he cans, so he knows they can help him. [insert the i got a dream song here. btw.] He talks to Grian about jimmy's situation, and manages to sneak both of them out. But they are chased by sausage and joey again, who have started working with lizzie after she returned home to find jimmy missing. she says fwhip kidnapped him, and sausage is doubtful, but he believes it, if only a way to get his friend in custody temporarily. Lizzie also overhears what happens at the tavern, so she starts making her own plan to stop fwhip and jimmy before they get to the castle.

also gandalf, gems cat, fills the sidekick animal role. he just shows up randomly to help them/be a problem. he helps them get away from joey and sausage, and then the cat is gone again. after that, fwhip and jimmy manage to get into the town, and enjoy the summer festival. they meet the rest of fwhip and lizzies friends, the empires crew, and all of them adore jimmy to bit. he bonds with joel especially, not having any idea that he's dating lizzie.

eventually, they have to leave the festival, because both lizzie and the guards have caught up to them. they manage to slip away that evening as everyone prepares to send the lanterns out, but gems onto them. probably because of her magic act tbh, who bothered them the wholeee festival.

The lantern scene happens. Jimmy and Fwhip, on a boat all by themselves with lanterns around. And yes, unlike tangled they do kiss! But the moment is over once they get to shore sadly. lizzie is there to take jimmy home, all while fwhip gets taken into custody a few feet away. jimmy does start protesting that he doesnt want to go home, but lizzie is too scared to let him leave the tower forever, and starts dragging him back anyways.

in the meantime, fwhip manages to convince sausage and joey of whats really happening. they're both a little reluctant, but they give him a palace horse and let him go after lizzie and jimmy. they're to go find xornorth at what remains of the festival, and fill them in before heading out to the tower themselves. gandalf leads gem and joel over to them as theyre talking to xornorth, and the two of them join in on going to the tower.

back at said tower, jimmy is fucking miserable man. he just wants to go back to the water, and fwhip. As soon as lizzie has her back turned he's sneaking out the window, only find the little intervention party waiting for him outside. i wont go into full detail of the scene, but quite a lot happens. i could do it more justice when i actually write it, compared to this quick little summary (its not the only detail im admitting haha)

in the end, all of them go back to the palace, lizzie being held as a prisoner for a little bit. but eventually, she requests to go back to the tower. they let her, figuring it better if she's further away from jimmy right now. he still cares about her, but he's pretty traumatized from what happened that night. but he heals with time, and by getting closer to fwhip and the empires crew. (at first fwjip isnt sure if he should try to advance the relationship anymore, but they get there eventually, once jimmy has healed enough <3)

i think im going to end it with lizzie saying sorry. jimmys not going to accept her back right away, nor is everyone else, but that will take time. shes going to finally leave that tower herself, and thats all that matters. that theyre both our of the tower for good.

i have a lot more planned but again, this is just a general summary. very excited to finally get writing it hehe

#ron.txt #the tangled au #I had to stop myself from tangled info dumping at points. So this is understandable even if you don't remember the movie #I am also open to more of this au based off the tangled series :] (<-- old hyperfixation leaking thru)#fwhimmy #once again flooding that tag. sorry guys lmao #feel free to talk/ramble about this to me its been rotting my brain!!#empiresshipping

32 notes · View notes

maaradag · 5 months

Text

massive, rambly spoilers for the new WILTY christmas episode underneath

First thoughts after finishing: oboy, both Lee and David going THROUGH it. Bet Rob was feeling all good safe in his host chair.

The guests were Victoria Coren Mitchell (whee!), Naga Munchetty, Alex Brooker and Melvyn Hayes. I'll admit I had to look everybody's names up except VCM.

Alex Brooker's lie has been available as a clip on the BBC website for a couple of days now, so nothing new there. Delighted by the fact that Victoria's (unbroken?) streak of guessing correctly on this show continues

So for me the show proper started with Victoria's card, which oh my god, holy shit, this was worth the wait.

David looks like he wants to sink into the floor, but for me, as Lee says: "If it helps in any way, I'm absolutely loving it."

I mean this is golden. Victoria starts trying to explain David's underwear philosophy, before turning to David and checking if she's not you know, revealing too much information on national television. David who has already spent the last few minutes looking like this is his worst nightmare, reassures her that no worries, "this is dreadful". All the while Lee is clapping his hands delightedly.

(BONUS Sweet moment!. Naga patting David on the shoulder, in an attempt at reassurement, cringing too hard to be very reassuring)

I don't know who Melvyn Hayes is (I'm not British, so my bad I guess) but his small comments here and there really brought it up a notch. Could have been annoying but it was really funny.

Other nice quotes from this round:

Victoria (to David, having revealed much about his underwear habits): I'm so sorry. (Then she laughs a bit more)

David: thE biBLe AnD fifTy SHadEs oF grAy

Melvin Hayes: I'm excited! (everybody cracks up)

This was FINALLY the resolution of Lee's quest to find out what David wears underneath his clothes.

(If only I still wrote fanfiction, and if only I could ever manage to write RPF this would segment would surely inspire me. Just putting that out into the universe before going back to hiding beneath the covers)

Have some pictures of David going through it:

BONUS: Lee being a smug bastard

The Melvin Hayes story did very little for me, as previously mentioned, no clue who he was before this, and the people he mentions are people I've heard about before but also know very little. Glad everyone seems so delighted by it though.

To contrast the previous picture have a happy picture of David and Victoria being pleased by Melvin Hayes story

THIS IS MY (Feat. a Celebrity Guest whoohooo)

Yet another person I don't know who is, but Patti seemed famous and Lee was all over her which turned out to be quite funny.

Victoria's sounded familiar by any rate, like I heard it before. Delightful story anyhow, her delivery of "better still, you can be in it." killed me.

Naga with the slow reveal of it being Lee that they hadn't recognized. Wonderful! Lovely! No notes. It's great that the story wasn't true because then the digs at Lee, and the Jimmy whatshiface of it all just became the marks of a good liar

(looked it up, the guy's Jimmy Nail. An English singer-songwriter apperenly, according to google).

David used his versatile tool to make decent stomach growls. Colour me impresssed.

Last round is a classic Lee round, in which he gets an herculean task and we watch him try to reel it in. (Alex B turns out to be quite the generous laughter which is great.)

Tag yourself I'm Alex, losing it.

#wilty #would i lie to you #don't think I'm gonna tag the people let them be free #this was a long ass post #maybe i should reconsider getting a dreamwidth account #blasting out words like i'm Barry from hidey hide's whooper #(that will make sense if you see the ep)#possibly #mine

26 notes · View notes

hausofmamadas · 2 months

Text

PRIMOGENITAL | the Wisdom of Fredward Horniman

From The Gentlemen, Episode 1 - Refined Agression

∴

Look, you guys. He’s really suffered, okay?

He’s been STABBED in the heart, he’s been London-BRIDGED(?), he’s been FUCKED in the face, DOGGED on the floor.

And it’s true. He has, despite being the firstborn son, been relegated to the truly harrowing fate of being the most embarrassingly, painfully, mediocre progeny in the family line, that his dad had no choice but to break with 600yrs of tradition and cut him out of the will, passing everything to younger, much cooler more responsible brother, Edwina “Eddie” Horniman. And isn’t not having a bullshit title, nor the crushing debt of his father’s failed above-board business, nor having to deal with the surprise! extensive, underground potfarm on the estate grounds and all the accompanying stress and criminal hijinx with it— well, isn’t it just the most traumatic thing you can imagine???????

Now all Freddy gets to do is:

live in historic mansion with way-too-cool-to-be-caught-dead-with-him, Inexplicable-Stunt-Driver-Wife Tamasina (known by abs legendary nickname of Wham Tam) who also, when asked by Freddy in a moment of desperation if she thinks he’s a cock, rightly points out, “all men are cocks, Freddy”

pal around in chicken costume and steal cars with chill asf brother that he only occasionally wants dead, Steady Eddie who’s legit so good at everything that Freddy doesn’t have to be good at anything

go “fishing” aka chuck live grenades into lake full of salmon, a method worthy of Park-Tuna-Assassin Ramon Arellano Félix and invent Crack!Weed another Ramon-coded pasttime with bestie-botanist and lover of all things hydroponic, hallucinogenic, and Special Sauce, Jimmy Chang …. AND

Skeet shoot out in picturesque estate garden with creature-whisperer, actual live angel, and all around Dilf-of-the-manor, Geoff

Oh, the horror.

No, but honestly, I cannot summon from memory a single character I have so biblically despised on first watch, only to full 180, violently swing in the opposite direction to straight glee/appreciation for the comedic marvel that is Mr. (not!)Duke-SirFancyPants-RoyalDumpsterFire-LordSomethingErOther, the one, the only, Frederick “Fredward” Horniman aka thisprince👇

Yeah, talk about refined aggression? I had some refined ass aggression toward ole Fred, here. Like when I tell you I hated this “man,” I h a t e d this man.

All I could think the whole time, on first watch was, wowowow, y’know what’s worse than a useless, entitled, infantile, drug-addled, narcissistic man-fetus …?

A loud useless, entitled, infantile, drug-addled, narcissistic man-fetus.

My mans, Eddie is wayyy too generous here☝️and every other time he bails Freddy out of whatever pigshit he manages to shove his full face into bc I’d be throwing more than paper. That antique furniture would regrettably be sailing thru the air, straight at that fat melon of this nepo-baby dressed in DivineRightofKings drag, if only to get a precious few fucking seconds of silence.

Like the only one reacting appropriately here is Charly☝️who Freddy snarkily calls Lady Macbeth with a mix of love and contempt only a sibling can display which like, not the best? insult? To be called one of the most groundbreaking female characters of all time? But our boy is nothing if not scholarly, right. So im sure he super paid attention when the class was reading Macbeth

So, yeah. He’s basically the worst. There’s a metric fuck ton of evidence to support that. AND YET, this mf isn’t completely useless bc after my 2nd and 3rd rewatch specifically witnessing the genius that is his alter ego, plastic Russian gangster, Anatoly Givenchy Romanov who laavs orange cars and Siberian tigers let me do tell you, against my better judgment, I found myself growing to love and adore the (2nd) funniest character in an already hilarious show (crown goes to beautiful tropical fish Jimmy bc mans always proper vibin’)

And now, when I watch this scene, instead of berserker levels of enraged, I’m struck with a disorienting combo of secondhand cringe + juvenile glee??? Like instead of wanting to aggravated manslaughter my own tv, I’m just “awww, Fredward. What a little nothing you are. Look how silly you look in your lil boarding school jumper.” And it feels good(?) but mostly bad. And then I do this

like the true American scum that I am.

═

taglist: @drabbles-mc @when-did-this-become-difficult @narcolini, @ladygoatee ⇝ tagged bc even tho you have zero intention of watching, you were diligently taking notes

#freddy horniman #the gentlemen #the gentlemen netflix #No but seriously Freddy is my son now #the magnitude of emotional whiplash is unmatched by any other character I swear #and idk how on God’s dying earth that happened #actually I do bc Freddy is me c. 2014 minus the asset rich/cash poor aristocratic hubris so you could just say Hoodrat runs in the fam #but at least I can say I have the good sense to be ashamed of it #which I am … deeply

19 notes · View notes

euthyami · 15 days

Note

You should do some doodles with ambriel! I think their (not about ambriels pronouns) character design is neat but I didn't find much about them in your blog so far.

Maybe doodle them eating their favorite food or show what do they do in their free time?

ambriel answers!! also his pronouns are he/him!! he's an autistic trans man (hence him having a weird relationship with food, he also likes plain food and has a sweet tooth, he learns to bake in his free time too!)

i've decided to ramble about his general backstory and hints for the show dream zone as this is an actual show i've managed to somewhat create to fit the nicktoons timeline!!!

(also tysm for asking abt him he's my pride and joy and i have way too many notes app pages abt dream zone)

here some facts about him

- he stars in the show 'dream zone' which ran from 2002-2004, his previous hero persona, known as metzli, is inspired by the magical girl aesthetic. his goal is to keep the town of hollowbury safe from the dream zone.

- the trio that most nick shows have also happen within dream zone! ambriel, vinnie and rosalind :D (he does go by a different name, his deadname, but i will call him ambriel throughout this.)

- the dream zone, despite it's nice sounding name, is a dangerous beast, as has claimed many victims, whether missing persons or death itself. the show's finale ends with one of ambriel's friends vinnie dying within the dream zone (by accident), which causes him to die in real life.

-(this is also the incident that gave ambriel his scar on his forehead, which is basically a crack of reality that he can twist and break to his will, how he has one of his attacks, his mind sword.)

- ambriel then goes into hiding and quits the superhero gig. he becomes depressed and traumatised and lives a hermit life. literally faking his death to get away from it all.

- it's not until a portal that reappears every june 26th, (the day nicktoons unite game takes place), he goes in after not going in the time before because he thought it would be too dangerous, and then he meets the nicktoons gang after ending up in jimmy's lab

- the portal was made by jimmy recruiting heroes for nicktoons unite. it reappears every year due to some mishap- but it's not until years later ambriel actually goes through.

- after that, he decides to welcome his dream abilities again, after suppressing his powers for years, and fights alongside the nicktoons gang, renaming himself ayauha also known as ayauhteo (all based on aztec mythology btw).

- that's all for now because i don't wanna infodump everything but there's a lot of information about this i could go into detail !! but thank you for listening if you make it this far !!

#art: mine #nicktoons unite #oc: ambriel rowe #dream zone: ambriel rowe #art: dream zone #nicktoons #danny phantom #jimmy neutron boy genius #jimmy neutron #fairly oddparents #spongebob squarepants #ask: doodle request

15 notes · View notes

yacinthemorning · 4 months

Text

Birdsongs

Chapter 4

[first] [prev] [next]

Summary: The Life Pilgrimage is the biggest music festival of the century, set to take place all across the continent. Small-time rock band, GIST, and the up-and-coming alternative band, Empire, are both lucky to be among the hundreds set to make appearances, but there's just one problem. Neither can afford the travel expenses on their own. For better or worse, they're stuck with each other for the next five weeks as they try to make their dreams come true.

And, perhaps, among the chaos and music, two unsuspecting souls find one another...

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic), Jimmy & Scott (platonic)

Warnings: Alcohol, drugs, anxiety attack, public performance, singing

As it turned out, Jimmy and Tango were, in fact, especially bad at putting up a tent.

“Have you never set one up?” Tango asked in a huff while his companion detangled him from the collapsed structure.

Jimmy managed to finally yank it over his head, coming face to face with Tango as he shook his head. “No, the two times I ever went camping Scott set it up for me. Have you never…?”

“I’mma be honest with you, Jimbo.” He was interrupted by a grunt as he pushed himself up onto his feet. “The closest to camping I’ve ever done is when I lived outa my car for two weeks in college, and a couple tailgate parties.”

“You were homeless?” Jimmy seemed genuinely distressed, as if it weren’t over a decade ago.

To that, though, Tango had to cringe as the memory came back to him. He wavered his hand. “Well, kinda? Me and our old bandmate sorta got kicked out of the dorms until they could fix the damage we caused. Honestly, kinda amazed they let us back in.”

“What? What did you do?”

“I’ll spare you the details and leave it at the fact that homemade rocket fuel is illegal for a reason.”

Jimmy choked, then sputtered. “What!” It wasn’t the first time Tango got that specific face from that story, and was the main reason he avoided recounting it. A face usually followed by- “I thought you were going to say you punched the drywall or something!” Yep. Right as expected.

“Yeah, well, that would be a normal and boring reason to get kicked out. And me and Zed? Couldn’t let that happen. That’s college for ya.”

“I can’t say that was my college experience…”

“That’s probably because you didn’t know enough engineering majors!” Tango swung his arm out with one of the poles, “I knew a group o’ guys whose final project was smithing a historically accurate bronze age sword from scratch. Most of the project was spent tryna spell manganese for their paper, sword was the easy part.”

There was a pause where Jimmy seemed to consider the statement before he sighed in amusement and laid out the tent. “C’mon, Rocketman, Sixth time’s the charm.”

The two absentmindedly worked, mostly just trying to find which end went where. It figures Skizz would pack some old military surplus tent from the Napoleonic Wars he found in the back of his attic instead of just buying a nice easy setup tent from Big Box or something. Tango held the tarp steady while Jimmy triple checked the poles were slotted in place, backing away like it was a wild animal. At this rate, with how much attitude it was giving them, it might as well be.

“So, you went to college?” Tango asked as he tied the tarp down to a joint.

Jimmy ducked past him to pick up another pole. “Is that surprising?” His tone turned defensive, and Tango could imagine his hackles rising.

“No! No… Well, kinda?” He quickly yanked the tarp back just as Jimmy set the pole into the ground. “With the band stuff.”

“Gosh, imagine making a living wage off being in a band!”

“Fair, fair.” Tango conceded, “So what was it for?”

“Well…” Jimmy’s voice wavered, mulling over something. “I was hoping to be a teacher, but it didn’t really pan out. Probably for the best, I hear the pay isn’t very good.”

Tango listened as he gathered his thoughts, batting around the last pole in the general direction of the rambling man. It tapped the back of his hand and instantly was gripped tight enough to yank out of Tango’s hand while Jimmy continued, absently waving it. “It really sucked, actually. The classes were super difficult, I had to retake them a bunch. And that was if I got the class, which I didn’t several times. Scott and Lizzie wanted to go full-time when we were putting our first real album together and I got outa there pretty quick.”

“At least you got the experience?” Was the only lame sentiment that came to Tango.

Jimmy shrugged, unbothered and with a bit of a smile on his face. “Just wasn’t meant to be, but it was a nice experience. I just hop around now, and Lizzie barely asks for rent so I don’t need much.” He dismissed, spoken like a true upper-middle class kid. All Tango could think was how much money it must have been repeating classes.

“I mean that’s probably for the best.” He said instead. “Pretty sure Impy and Skizz are dipping into their sick days for this trip.”

“Oh, goodness me.”

Something about the way Jimmy said those words made Tango bowl over laughing. Despite being younger than Tango, he sounded like an elderly man who just heard something scandalous over the phone. Was it the accent? It probably was. Jimmy shuffled a bit, seemingly unsure if he should laugh along or be offended. He instead focused on the tent, driving the last pole through the loop and into the ground. Both men backed up cautiously, watching and waiting for the tent to suddenly collapse in on itself or maybe spontaneously combust.

It did neither. Though it scooched about in the breeze a bit from not being spiked down, it was built about as proper as could be told. They looked at each other with pure relief which melted into excitement. “I’ll get the mattress!” Tango sprinted off, catching Jimmy picking up his guitar and crawling inside. It suddenly hit him, how cozy it was going to be with the three of them in there. Oh well, at least he got his cuddle buddy. More important than that, getting to sleep outside instead of on that awful table.

It wasn’t until several hours later, after dinner had long since served, with the air already smoky with whatever Skizz and Fwhip were smoking around back, and the two laid staring at the roof of the tent shoulder to shoulder, that they spoke again. Tango honestly thought Jimmy had already fallen asleep. Then he shifted, shoulder rolling into Tango’s to catch his attention.

“Once we’re done tomorrow, can I come watch you guys?”

Tango blinked, “You can watch whatever shows you want.”

“R-right.” Jimmy shifted away.

God, he knew exactly what to say, didn’t he? Tango stuttered for a moment. “I wanna watch you guys too, then.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Too late. I’m gonna.”

Jimmy laughed, then winced as his knee banged into his guitar case. He was a long fellow, unable to sleep in the tent without either bending or sticking his feet out the front. Despite that he took up such a small space, even with his guitar. It wouldn’t do, Tango decided. He shuffled over until there was enough of a gap between them to catch Jimmy’s attention, and patted the space. “C’mon, don’t be a stranger.”

“Oh, it’s fine-”

“Nope, get over here.”

“I have plenty of room!”

“You look like a sardine. C’mon, I’m not a big guy, you take the space.”

Jimmy’s eyes darted from him to the gap between them. With the space now open, however, cold air flooded from outside, sending a shiver through both. It quickly became reoccupied by the guitarist. A bit too quickly, as he overshot the gap and pressed himself right up against Tango. How accidental it was seemed up in the air, but either way he made no move to… well, move. “I can’t wait to get to somewhere warmer.” He muttered, pulling his sleeping bag up to his chin.

“I’m afraid it’s probably not gonna be much warmer at night anywhere.” Tango laughed. He settled into the new warmth, still too awake. Why didn’t he try fixing his sleep schedule before they left?

Jimmy was quiet for another moment, then whispered. “If I get tangled in the cords trying to do some stupid dance move I wasn’t supposed to and fall off the stage, you can’t laugh at me, okay?”

Tango snorted in an attempt not to laugh too loud, sending a gust across Jimmy’s bangs. “That’s specific. I’ll be in the front row, so if you go down so’m’I.”

“Nooo…” Jimmy groaned.

“Don’t worry, I’ll try catching you. I think you’d crush me before I do, though.”

“We aren’t a mosh pit type of band, Tango, you shouldn’t be getting crushed.”

“Well you can return the favour at our show, ‘cause I will stage dive and I will aim for you.”

“I change my mind.”

This time Tango couldn’t stop the laugh, which Jimmy joined in on. “Get some sleep, partner, we got songs to mess up and stages to fall off.”

“Jimmy move back, you’re too close to the edge of the stage.”

The cords at their feet were a pit of vipers snapping at his ankles as he tried to move back as his sister asked. His guitar weighed thrice as much that day, threatening to tear his shoulder out of its socket in its ongoing mission to shatter at his feet. The notes of their first song had danced right out of his mind, then the page Scott shoved in front of him. They floated above him, indecipherable from the shadows of the rafters. Joel tried to console him, but it amounted to claiming ignorance to his failure that was not nearly as comforting at Joel seemed to believe.

Everyone scurried around him while he tried his best to keep out of their way. His finger tapped anxiously against the remnant scraps of the poppy sticker, situated at the topmost corner where his hand naturally rested. A panic button. Jimmy wasn’t sure if it made a particular sound or if the tapping itself was so obvious. Either way, like clockwork ten seconds into the action, there was a hand on his shoulder. Scott’s bow dug into his neck as he rubbed comforting circles. They were just as much for Jimmy as they were for Scott, even if he would never show it. It all felt a little too anxious to call a good luck routine, but a routine it was, all the same.

“This is crowd’s small compared to what we’ll be seeing at other venues.” Scott rambled, making Jimmy all too aware there was no curtain to hide behind on the open-air stage. “Think of it as a warm up, a taste of what to expect for the rest of the pilgrimage.”

“Yeah.” He said, curt.

“We’re starting with pescatarian. The easiest guitar, ‘kay?”

If Jimmy weren’t terrified out of his mind he’d roll his eyes at Scott’s use of the song title from their disc jacket, rather than the one they’d all used long before Jimmy officially joined them. “’Kay.”

“Just follow my lead and we’ll be fine.” Scott tried to assure. It was, if only slightly.

Their conversation was interrupted by the crack of fireworks and whirl of blades. Everyone looked up into the sky, right to where a neon pink helicopter hovered. Jimmy could pinpoint from where in the crowds the uproar rippled out from. The few large projectors dotted beside each stage zoomed in. Out stepped Arianna Griande, her feathered coat going wild from the winds around it. Just behind her was her two favourite backup dancers. She waved to the crowd, and then she jumped.

There was a chorus of gasps and screams. Jimmy felt his own heart jump into his throat, despite knowing what was most certain to follow. As she plunged towards the ground the wings on her back burst open, becoming a parachute just as glitter canons went off below her. The crowd cheered louder than ever as her feet hit the main stage, the camera not bothering to follow her back up dancers as they, too, leapt after her.

She bowed, then threw her hands up, “Welcome, Pilgrims, to the first stage of our lives!”

Jimmy thought his eardrums might burst from the crowds cheers alone. Griande’s grin was impossibly wide, dancing across the stage as if touching the ground was passé. “And what a stage it is, is it not? Open, borderless, the sky’s the limit. Everyone take your first breath into this world!”

Despite the cheesiness, Jimmy found himself taking a deep breath along with several in the crowd.

She, too, took a breath, hand over her chest. “This was where I saw my first concert, the place where I was reborn into who I am today. I’m sure every one of us has that place. Can you see it in your mind? Let us take your spirit there as you let in the very first notes of our pilgrimage this weekend. Today, right now, every one of us is reborn!” Her hands went up, unable to contain her own excitement, and the crowds fed from her. No music had begun to play and they were already jumping about like popcorn.

The distant vibrations of the main stage thrummed through their blood. “It’s almost our time.” Joel announced from his seat. Scott released Jimmy’s shoulder to get in position. Their crowd was beginning to get riled up, hundreds of eyes watching them expectantly and cheering as Lizzie stepped forward to introduce them. Jimmy thought he might throw up.

A small commotion was happening in the horde just left of Jimmy. Fiery blond hair pushed past two folks, slamming into the railing just in front of the stage hard enough to nearly knock his red tinted glasses straight off. Tango struggled to recover, grimacing as he righted himself. His eyes met Jimmy’s and it turned into a beaming grin, hands outstretched in a catching motion. His fingers curled in. once, twice, thrice. Amusement bubbled up in Jimmy’s throat.

Behind him, Joel was snickering. Lizzie’s hands dropped to her keyboard and Scott had placed his fiddle to his shoulder. It was time to play. Tango settled down against the railing, cool as a cucumber as he tapped along to Joel setting the pace.

In all their years of playing, the first note had never come so easy Jimmy. He thinks it might not have even been the right one, with the side eye Scott sent him, but if it wasn’t it left his mind by the second note.

Lizzie and Scott were always in their own distant world when playing, and maybe for the first time Jimmy was there also. Every time he felt himself become too aware once more, felt the vipers tense against his sneakers, he glanced back over to Tango. The way his nail tapped against the metal rail, how his eyes never met Jimmy’s but seemed laser focused on his guitar, mouthing notes a quarter second after they played. If Jimmy tripped and fell he wasn’t sure Tango wouldn’t also collapse to the ground, despite his claims to catch Jimmy the night before.

The song slowed to its conclusion, the crowd already cheering and Jimmy already wondering how he could thank Tango for something that was all in Jimmy’s head. Scott seemed pleased, taking the mic from Lizzie to speak to the crowds and introduce their next song.

They slipped into some sort of groove, Jimmy nearly forgetting Tango was there as he watched his bandmates carefully. Scott led them again, then Lizzie in the third. It was a song she’d written a few years ago. To an onlooker maybe it sounded deep, profound even, about an endless, unreachable longing. Only her bandmates had to hold back their laughter, knowing full well it was about her breaking her VHS of The Little Mermaid.

It was the charm of her poetry, though. Jimmy wished he could see the world as overwhelmingly vibrant as her. He almost could, when he played her songs. Lights seemed brighter, grass greener, feedback from the speakers too loud, every note reverberating through his bones. At the same time, it was hard to remember where he even stood or where the sounds came from. How could he separate the faces in the crowd in front of him when he could feel every microscopic fault along his guitar strings? It was the sort of combination of hyper awareness and total obliviousness Lizzie always existed in. It decided what notes she chose and how she played them.

It was about something silly and replaceable, as had been done the day after she shared the song with them. But why shouldn’t she have been so distraught that she wrote an entire song before she remembered she could get a new copy? It broke because it was the thousandth time she’d shoved it a little too hard into the player after a terrible day.

It was the same as when they were teenagers, the first time he played something they’d created instead of out of a book. He’d never felt he understood his sister as well as he did then, while playing a song she wrote. Scott may have been the reason he started playing, but Lizzie had been what kept him playing back then, if only to play her songs.

If only in hopes it wouldn’t be such a one-way street someday.

I’ve gone and upset myself again. He huffed while Lizzie faded out the song. Escaping from Lizzie’s trance, his eyes settled back into the crowd. Whatever internal collapse just happened had thankfully not shown, as they went wild. No one cheered quite as loud as Tango, though it may just be due to familiarity that his voice stood out. Jimmy chest puffed up with pride. Why was he psyching himself out even when things were going well? He could worry about existential things in the privacy of the tent. Jimmy took a deep breath and waited eagerly for the next song to begin.

The last two went by in a blur. He knows Lizzie and Scott finished off with their duet, a showtune with no show, overly flashy and fun. It stuck out like a sore thumb, but that was the point according to them. Some visions Jimmy would simply never get, but it was always a fun last song to play.

“Thank you so much, everyone! We’ll see you again in the valley!” Lizzie announced as the rest of them shuffled off the stage as swiftly as possible.

Fwhip was waiting for them, barely containing his excitement with thinnest veneer of professionalism. As soon as Jimmy was in range it shattered, and Jimmy was dragged through into a hug. “You guys did amazing!” He squealed.

“Of course we did!” Lizzie said, attempting casualness. It did little to cover up her smile and the shine in her eyes. Her makeup had begun to bleed under the hot lights of the stage, rubbing off on her towel. “Goodness, though, I need a nice bath, I was sweating buckets before we even started.”

“You can go take a shower first, we’ll take care of everything.” Scott promised, wiping away his own running makeup. Jimmy was glad he’d only let them smear a bit of glitter across his cheeks. It would have been in a puddle on the stage before their first song.

Lizzie threw her case over her shoulder, gave her husband a kiss and the other two hugs. Jimmy shuffled his guitar around to give her room but she pulled him down into a bear grip that knocked it right back off his shoulder. “You did great today, Jimmy.” She whispered. Then she was off. “Don’t go to the food trucks without me!”

On her way out she paused, speaking into the crowd before continuing. It was Tango, now joined by Gem and Pearl, waiting for them all to finish packing up. “Great show, guys!” Gem beamed. The two bands had seen little of each other once they began to get ready, Empire going first for their earlier show. Now, an hour out from GIST’s performance, Gem dressed much more in line with Tango and Skizz’s punkish appearance. Though her accents were still bright, they were much harsher, and she’d undone her pigtails. Her makeup and jewellery still needed to be put on, but even without them she’d completely transformed.

“Were you here?” Jimmy asked, then clammed up as he realized how it sounded. Gem didn’t seem to notice, however.

“Yeah, though Tango ran off without us!” She teased, punching the man in the shoulder. He yelped, then shrugged. “There were so many tall people, Pearl had to pick me up at one point.”

The group chattered all the way back to the trailer, where Skizz awaited with an open bag of kettle corn. The next hour was peaceful. The two bands switched back and forth between GIST putting on their costumes and Empire removing them. Scott packed it all away, only having one show scheduled for the venue. They were free for the rest of the weekend from the mortification of performing, and Jimmy couldn’t be happier.

Impulse popped out of the trailer last, somehow still rocking the ‘dad at a barbeque’ look despite the makeup and piercings and leather. He was the last puzzle piece, and as soon as Gem got her pictures, they were off for final setup.

“They’re quite energetic for their age.” Scott commented.

Pearl shrugged. “They aren’t that old... And I’m pretty sure skizz took something while Impulse was in the bathroom.”

“Gods, speaking of, I think I’m about ready to die from stress.” Scott slid onto his feet only to lean against the trailer and put a dramatic hand to his forehead.

After a good chuckle Pearl also stood, pointing past the trailer. “There’s a band called HHH next door. I know the drummer. They always got good stuff.”

“Great, let’s go.”

They walked off with barely a wave to Jimmy, arm in arm. He raised an eyebrow that would never be seen, then shook his head. If they were going to ditch him for some weed he wasn’t going to wait around. He slung his guitar over his shoulder and went on a slow exploration for GIST’s stage.

The number of bands was nearly overwhelming. A psychedelic band that left Jimmy feeling like a boat in a storm was followed by a single guy with a metal mask shredding solo on the fanciest guitar Jimmy had ever seen. It wasn’t clear if he was playing an actual song or just showing off.

The first act he actually recognized was In the Littlewood, a ska punk band whose tape had wound up in Empire’s collection with a box of others bought for five bucks from a friend of a friend. It saw much more play than the rest in no small part thanks to the strange, complicated cords the lead guitarist pulled off. Or rather, usually pulled off and happily fumbled his way through the rest of the time. The same song he’d heard hundreds of times before was nearly unrecognizable at parts for how the band rebuilt the tune on the fly. It was a blasé attitude Jimmy had neither the skill nor the confidence to pull off.

Some noise-heavy act was just wrapping up as Jimmy found the stage GIST was to play on next. They’d gathered near the edge, half-listening to the previous band and half-prepared to set up the second they stepped off stage.

Tango waved him over. “We saved you a spot.” He explained as he oriented the taller right at the front. “Gotta be able to find you easy when I stage dive.”

“Wait, you aren’t actually going to jump, are you?” Jimmy warbled, eyes wide.

“Guess you’ll have to find out!”

This was going to end poorly.

Soon they were up on stage. Even before their set had started they roused a friendly atmosphere with casual conversation, contrasting greatly their appearance. Tango’s hair had been properly gelled and temporarily dyed to be much more vibrant like flames. He’d switched to a tank top under his vest that properly showed off the half-sleeve tattoo of... Well, Jimmy wasn’t actually quite sure what it was. It almost look like a maze, leading up to an icy castle. The other arm sported a much simpler tattoo that simply said ‘ZITS’. Impulse and Skizz sported matching ones in the same place. Below it was a GIST tattoo, smaller and bit more creatively scrawled, for which Gem also sported. Considering how much of a baby she could be, it was a surprise she agreed to get it.

Or maybe it wasn’t so surprising. The redhead had always been bubbly and outgoing, but Jimmy had never seen her quite as giddy as she was now, wavering between nerves and excitement. She bounced between her bandmates, checking one last time that they were all ready, before she snatched up the mic.

“Hey! How’s it going everyone!” Gem screamed loud enough the mic seemed redundant. The crowd burst with excitement, Jimmy nearly getting pushed over the railing by their zeal. Gem was giggling with absolute glee, bouncing on her heels from the reception. It was a motion Jimmy couldn’t help mirror. “Oh my god I can’t believe we’re actually here! How is everyone feeling? Are we ready for the biggest trip of our lives!?”

Jimmy cupped his mouth and shouted, joining in the collective approval. They were whispers next to Skizz’s battle cry. “Okay, okay! So-” Gem cut herself off with a squeal, red faced and shaking her free hand of the excess energy keeping her on her toes. “Sorry, Oh my god. Ah! I’m Gem, and these geezers-”

“Hey!” Tango shouted.

“Sorry, these big babies are Impulse, Skizz, and Tango, and together we’re the GIST and we’re here to rock your socks off!”

“Well, what if I’m not wearing socks, huh, Gemstone?” Skizz asked, which she responded to by blowing a raspberry. Jimmy laughed along with the crowd while Gem tried to keep them on track. Her face was already flushed by the time she announced their first song, the name of which Jimmy never caught through the uproar around him.

Tango was the one to lead, swiping the first note before Gem had stopped talking. It was a long beginning of instrumentals, one Jimmy suspected wasn’t originally so long. Gem, however, had her eyes trained on her guitar, still reeling from the excitement. Once the poor girl could breathe she stepped forward and the rest of the band immediately switched gears so naturally Jimmy felt himself physically swept up alongside them, his feet stumbling.

It’d been a long time since he’d witnessed such energy in a live performance. Nothing complicated, nothing ground-breaking, except when the wild assault of colour felt like it really was breaking the ground beneath his feet. GIST were truly purely hard rock, unencumbered by propriety. The actual lyrics completely slipped in one ear and out the other until the chorus burst forth and Gem was singing too loudly, “... And if you come to your senses, I’ve got a rocket ready to take us back to space!”

The music dropped, Impulse taking up the mic under a muffled hand while Tango and Gem combined the sound. A count down, Jimmy realized. It was ridiculous how closely it came to sounding like the real thing. When Skizz joined in to create a noise not like but similarly overwhelming to a rocket launching it sunk in that he never was supposed to hear the lyrics. Tango looked positively giddy at whatever strange orchestral storytelling they smashed together with their otherwise basic spread of instruments. No one of their parts was impressive on its own, but they blended into a singular mass Jimmy found difficult to pinpoint the individual parts within, even while watching strings being plucked. By the time the song lulled to its end Jimmy’s own heart had joined the cacophony.

A few people in the crowd could sing along to their lyrics. Jimmy joined them in the chorus, tripping up when Gem switched up one of the lines and giggling his way through the rest when Tango noticed and turned his nose up in mock smugness. He’d have to ask Pearl to borrow one of their discs so he could learn the lyrics for next time.

The rest of the songs felt like walking through a kaleidoscope. Nothing Jimmy hadn’t heard before, one was even a cover of a country song he’d heard Impulse playing in the van. Their lyrics were nothing to write home about, downright corny at points. They didn’t need to be, not with grins as wide as theirs. It was overwhelming.

Gem nearly jumped off the stage as the last song came to a close, her wildly styled hair flying all over. Tango’s hair, too, had started to lose its structure but he looked like he’d only just warmed up. It bled into the crowd cheering them on, which bled back into GIST. If there weren’t already another band waiting Jimmy had no doubt they would have been happy to play every song they’ve ever written until they collapsed from exhaustion. Alas, someone off stage sent a signal to them, and Gem was forced to wrap it up. Jimmy was surprised to find he was just as disappointed as GIST it had come to an end.

“That was amazing!” Jimmy said, intercepting the band as they escaped.

Pearl pushed past him to replace each of their water bottles for refilled ones. Tango snatched his up and immediately pressed it against Jimmy’s face, laughing as he jumped away. “You’re nearly as red as we are.”

“Well, it was a good show!” He pouted, then swiftly put behind him. “Are you playing again this weekend?”

Impulse replied, “Nah, I don’t think so. I think only main stage bands get to play multiple times most places.”

“Which means we’re gonna probably head out early so we can get an extra day to make it to the next destination.” Pearl declared.

“Whu- but Horsehead Farms doesn’t play until Sunday night!” Tango whined.

“You’ll be able to catch them at the other venues. Besides, Gem needs to rest.”

Jimmy blinked at the singer, who looked sheepish while Impulse rubbed her back. “I’m totally fine.” Her voice cracked painfully leading to a coughing fit. A roll of halls appeared in front of her, waved until she begrudgingly snatched them up.

“Glitter Girl has a bad habit of going all out, start to finish.” Tango explained, which got him a silly face from his bandmate.

“Like you’re any better.”

“My instrument ain’t my amazing voice!”

“Either way, we can’t have your voice shot if we gotta play again in a few days.” Pearl ended the argument, pushing between the two to take Gem away with Impulse. “I’ll go make some lemon tea. You guys should go have fun before we start packing up in the morning.”

Jimmy nodded and turned to Tango, hoping to ask the man to join him. He never got a chance. Tango hopped the railing and wrapped an arm around Jimmy’s neck, dragging him off without request.

They waded into the muddy crowds, Tango’s heavy boots splashing through the muck. The air was thick with the most pungent mixture of smokes and Jimmy was sure they were starting to get to him. At the intersection of stages they could all faintly rang over the crowds cheers. “Got anyone you wanna check out, partner?” Shouted Tango, barely audible despite no particular noise in the vicinity.

“I don’t even know who’s playing.” Jimmy admitted.

“Then I guess we follow the sound we like best.”

So that was what they did. A tune caught one of their ears. Jimmy wasn’t even sure which, only that they had stumbled off towards the open stage with more excitement than what they found warranted. It was probably a sign when a can tossed haphazardly over someone’s shoulder bounced off Tango’s head and smacked Jimmy in the face. Slipping in the mud onto their butts when a wave swept through the crowd was most certainly one. The singer was off key from nerves. Jimmy’s eyes stung from the dust and smoke. Halfway through the next mediocre song they realized the can had cut his nose. There was a ringing in his ears from standing too close to the speaker. He had to cover them when everyone started screaming at the start of a done-to-death cover. At one point Jimmy felt himself go red from second hand embarrassment when the singer tried to get the crowd to sing along to a song nobody knew.

It was the most fun he’d had in years.

The lounges and bars they’d near-exclusively spent the last five years in were a distant nightmare. When was the last time they went to a big concert instead of just catching the act after them?

They didn’t even wait for the goodbyes to end before they moved on to another stage. The main stage, it seemed. Griande was still going, dancing her heart out. Lizzie adored her glitter, but even she’d balk at Griande now. She was on to one of her pop-ier songs, a silly love song, but Griande could make anything sound like the most romantic lyrics you’d ever heard.

While singing along with the rest of the crowd he caught sight of Tango from the corner of his vision. It wasn’t his jam, Jimmy could have guessed that the moment he met the guy, but he was still swaying, a big grin on him. Jimmy bounced on his heels, singing along with renewed vigour.

“You’re gonna shoot your voice, there, partner.” Tango joked as the next song began.

Jimmy could hardly stop to reply, “It’s not like I need it, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“I dunno, you start sounding like me?”

“Stop it, no I won’t! You take that back!”

“Ouch.” But there was no real hurt in Tango’s voice. He slung an arm around Jimmy’s shoulder, tearing his gaze away from the stage and onto a water bottle Tango offered up. “At least oil the pipes.”

The water bottle was snatched up, even as Jimmy gave him a raised eyebrow. “I feel like there were better ways you could have put that.”

“Reasons I write lyrics as often as I sing ‘em.” He shrugged. “We can’t all be pretty little canaries like you.”

Jimmy choked mid gulp, laughter turning to pained coughs as water came back up his nose. Tango made the most ridiculously inhuman noise as he jumped back, not helping Jimmy at all in remembering how to breathe.

“Not those pipes!” Tango chastised, though he’d begun to laugh as well while he helped Jimmy wipe his face off.

“That was one of the lamest thing I’ve ever heard.” Jimmy gasped. His face had gone red for too many reasons to count.

They wandered towards the back of the crowd until they found a spot to sit in the grass. “But not the lamest? I guess I gotta try harder next time.”

That’s what he cared about? Jimmy covered his eyes and tried not to start laugh again. His throat and nose stung but he croaked out, “Where to next?”

#tangotek #jimmy solidarity #solidaritek #team rancher #rancher duo #trafficshipping #traffic series #hermitpires #fanfiction #fanfic #mcyt #modern au #alternate universe #hurt/comfort #'fluff #sharing a slice of cake

12 notes · View notes