monitor station

SpaceX Dragon breathes Astronomical Amounts of Science to Space Station

SpaceX is helping the crew members aboard the International Space Station get down and nerdy as they launch their Dragon cargo spacecraft into orbit for the 13th commercial resupply mission, targeted for Dec. 15 from our Kennedy Space Center in Florida. 

This super science-heavy flight will deliver experiments and equipment that will study phenomena on the Sun, materials in microgravity, space junk and more. 

Here are some highlights of research that will be delivered to the station:

ZBLAN Fiber Optics Tested in Space!

The Optical Fiber Production in Microgravity (Made in Space Fiber Optics) experiment demonstrates the benefits of manufacturing fiber optic filaments in a microgravity environment. This investigation will attempt to pull fiber optic wire from ZBLAN, a heavy metal fluoride glass commonly used to make fiber optic glass.

When ZBLAN is solidified on Earth, its atomic structure tends to form into crystals. Research indicates that ZBLAN fiber pulled in microgravity may not crystalize as much, giving it better optical qualities than the silica used in most fiber optic wire. 

Total and Spectral Solar Irradiance Sensor is Totally Teaching us About Earth’s Climate

The Total and Spectral Solar Irradiance Sensor, or TSIS, monitors both total solar irradiance and solar spectral irradiance, measurements that represent one of the longest space-observed climate records. Solar irradiance is the output of light energy from the entire disk of the Sun, measured at the Earth. This means looking at the Sun in ways very similar to how we observe stars rather than as an image with details that our eye can resolve.

Understanding the variability and magnitude of solar irradiance is essential to understanding Earth’s climate.  

Sensor Monitors Space Station Environment for Space Junk

The Space Debris Sensor (SDS) will directly measure the orbital debris environment around the space station for two to three years.

Above, see documentation of a Micro Meteor Orbital Debris strike on one of the window’s within the space station’s Cupola. 

Research from this investigation could help lower the risk to human life and critical hardware by orbital debris.

Self-Assembling and Self-Replicating Materials in Space!

Future space exploration may utilize self-assembly and self-replication to make materials and devices that can repair themselves on long duration missions. 

The Advanced Colloids Experiment- Temperature-7 (ACE-T-7) investigation involves the design and assembly of 3D structures from small particles suspended in a fluid medium. 

Melting Plastics in Microgravity

The Transparent Alloys project seeks to improve the understanding of the melting and solidification processes in plastics in microgravity. Five investigations will be conducted as a part of the Transparent Alloys project.

These European Space Agency (ESA) investigations will allow researchers to study this phenomena in the microgravity environment, where natural convection will not impact the results.  

Studying Slime (or…Algae, at Least) on the Space Station

Arthrospira B, an ESA investigation, will examine the form, structure and physiology of the Arthrospira sp. algae in order to determine the reliability of the organism for future spacecraft biological life support systems.

The development of these kinds of regenerative life support systems for spaceflight could also be applied to remote locations on Earth where sustainability of materials is important. 

Follow @ISS_Research on Twitter for more space science and watch the launch live on Dec. 15 at 10:36 a.m. EDT HERE!

For a regular dose of space-nerdy-goodness, follow us on Tumblr:

What if:

A werewolf AU only it’s not a werewolf AU.

Yuuri Katsuki is a mysterious man who likes his meat rare and talks to dogs like he can understand what they’re saying. He says he has a dark past and doesn’t like to talk about himself too much. Viktor asks him what he does for a living, and Yuuri hems and haws for a moment before explaining that he monitors the tides. More than once, Yuuri crawls into Viktor’s bed smelling like wet dog. Viktor has never seen Yuuri on a full moon. Yuuri has scars on his belly that he refuses to talk about. 

“Yuuri,” Viktor says one morning over coffee, upon putting all of this together. “Yuuri, are you a werewolf?”

Yuuri sets his mug down, hard, and levels Viktor with the most astounded look Viktor has ever seen on another person’s face. “Excuse me?”

“You’re a werewolf, aren’t you?” Viktor asks, leaning far over the table. “You can tell me, it’s okay. I’ll love you either way.”

“Viktor, oh my God.” Yuuri sniffs Viktor’s coffee to make sure it’s not spiked. “Viktor, why would you think that? Werewolves aren’t real, Viktor, they don’t exist.”

“But you like your meat rare.”

“Where I come from, everyone likes their meat rare.”

“Yuuri–Yuuri, you talk to dogs! You keep telling me that you have a dark past and you won’t tell me about it! You monitor tides for a living? What does that even mean, Yuuri? I thought it was a euphemism for–”

“Viktor, I literally work at a tide monitoring station. You’ve been to the station, you’ve met my coworkers.” Yuuri drops his head onto the table and buries his hands in his hair. “The–the dark past is–Viktor, it was a joke. I thought I told you. I was talking about my–my failed figure skating career. It was–how the hell did you get werewolf from all of that? There are so many more logical explanations–”

“The scars!” Viktor blurts, even though he’ll realize shortly that it was terribly insensitive of him. “Where did you get–”

“My failed figure skating career!” Yuuri groans. “Another skater and I–we crashed into each other, his skates tore up my stomach and I almost poked both his eyes out! That’s why I don’t skate anymore!”

“Then,” Viktor announces, throwing out his trump card, “Why do I never see you on the full moon?”

“Because I work at a tide-monitoring station, Viktor! Why, why did none of this occur to you?!”

“Oh,” Viktor says softly, clearing his throat. “I see.”

Yuuri Katsuki, who is not a werewolf but merely a failed figure skater who works at a tide monitoring station and owns a dog, bangs his head repeatedly on the table.

the second hand unwinds

A “what if the radio worked” post s4 fic, ~8k and rated M.  Let’s just pretending that whole “mystery ship” thing never happened.


He made it two hours.  

The oxygen came on and Bellamy didn’t have time to grieve because they have to run diagnostics on what remained of the Ark and then there were rations to unload and systems to reboot, and finally, compartments to pick.

There’s twelve rooms and seven people.  Seven, where there should be eight.  Monty and Harper took one room and Murphy and Emori took another.  Echo picked a room next to Murphy and Emori, and Raven grabbed the one closest to Earth Monitoring Station, which left three for Bellamy to choose from.  

He closed the door and everything inside of him shattered.  Did Clarke hate him in her last moments, dying alone out there?  Did she understand?  Part of him thought she might, but— together.  That was their deal.  There was no deal for one of them surviving while the other burned up from the inside out.  He could already feel the hole inside of him that was shaped like her; like Gina, but worse.  Bellamy picked up a metal chair.  His compartment up here on Factory station had just two of them— two, for three people.  Now there was one chair, and one of him.  He hefted it in his hand, testing its weight, and threw it at the wall.  It bounced, one leg a little bent now, and he hauled off and punched the wall as hard as he could.  His teeth rattled with the impact but it wasn’t enough, so he pounded and pounded, his knuckles searing with each punch.  A scream erupted from somewhere deep inside of him and then he was crying, sinking to the floor and wondering how he could go on like this.

Raven found him like that three hours later.  Her eyes were swollen and red and he didn’t even try to hide his face from her.  One look at her and it was clear— she knew.  Had known for a while, probably.

He wondered if Clarke knew.

He wondered if that mattered.

Read the rest on ao3.

“Captain, this is operator 379C-AP92 from monitoring station GZ-9W. There is an unauthorized FTL signature in your sector.”

“Point of origin?”

“It appears to be from an ascendant species, GZ-S113.”

“Status on the species?”

“This is their second detected FTL jump. The first was intercepted and inducted, per standard procedure. Initial investigation determined that the jump was intentional, and that the species is ready for full induction.”

“And now that a second jump has been detected, you’re contacting the nearest interceptor captain - me - to bring them into the fold.”

“Correct. You have far greater than normal allowances for reinforcements, as well. The occupants of the first ship showed surprising mental fortitude, and proved to share some sort of limited, communal hivemind.”

“Understood. Mind sending us on our way?”

“Control system engaged. Coordinates provided, target intercept calculated and locked. FTL jump initiating in 3… 2… 1…”

“All right crew, you have your targets?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good! Punch through and get us in. Surprising fortitude or not, a small crew like that won’t compare to the mental assault of seasoned interceptors.”

I stepped forward as my vision cleared, the uneven terrain crunching beneath my feet. The entire landscape seemed to be made of trash and debris, though I couldn’t make out any details through the thick mist covering everything. Above me, words rushed through the air, interspersed with colors, lights, sounds, and the occasional smell. They all moved a mile a minute, though one would occasionally stop, scan around, then dive and grab something from the detritus around me.

I stilled myself, calmed my own thoughts, and prepared an attack. A simple opening salvo, really. Suggestions of passivity, commands to relinquish control. The vast majority of races fall to those alone. As I released the barrage, I checked with my crew - they were doing the same.

Then, for just a moment, everything sped up and stopped. The words turned, blinked, and glared at me.


A hand grabbed me from behind, sank into my neck and reached into my skull. Cold, hot. I was everything, nothing. When I got back up and looked around, I was in an ancient forest, surrounded by nothing but the sounds of the world.

“Is anyone there?”

A shaking, chattering sound rose up all around me, then died down again.


Eyes blinked from the shadows as the chittering, chattering surrounded me once more.

“I know you can hear me! I am your captain! Respond!”

The forest seemed darker, somehow. The eyes continued to stare at me, the chattering rattled up my spine.

“Captain! We’re having trouble! They just keep throwing more stuff at us, no matter what we do!”

“Show me!”

A battle, raging across space. Small craft screaming through the void, lasers tearing through the gaps and gouging deep into ships the size of stations. A planet below, torn by the signs of the same battle happening above. A moon rising above the horizon. No - not a moon. An absolutely massive battlestation, primed for war.

“Soldiers! Sound off!”

A deep chasm, warriors fleeing across a bridge. One falling behind, easy prey for my soldier. A moment more, and he will be mine. He takes out a weapon, shouts his farewell. A blinding light, and the bridge shatters. Falling, I grasp at him before darkness covers my view.

A young boy clad in green and a girl in pink is doing battle with my man. The boy is outmatched, outclassed, and doomed to fail. My man reaches for his prize, only to see it stolen from his grasp by another. Water cascades around me from above as the sky collapses and the battle resumes.

A small fleet comes into view of my overwhelming armada, arrayed around my homeworld. Doomed to fail by numbers alone, they still attack, driven by suicidal desperation. They dive in and through, picked off one by one by my superior fleet. One deploys a weapon, straight to the surface of my planet. It begins to boil and bubble, and suddenly it explodes outward, my own world a weapon used against me, wiping my race from existence.


A single man wearing a bathrobe, in a temple to his destruction. My soldier yelling at and ridiculing him, fighting him for a goal worth nothing and everything. Destroying himself with his own mistake, the temple collapsing around them and somehow allowing the man to escape.

“This can’t be right.”

A man, collapsed upon the ground. My soldiers turning away, going to continue their work. The man rises, and my soldiers turn and shoot him. He raises his hand, and the bullets simply stop. He picks one out of the air and drops the rest, then charges at my soldiers.

“This isn’t possible.”

View after view, battle after battle, loss after loss. My soldiers fall. They have no resistance, no way to stop it.

“This can’t be real!”

White faces poke out of the trees around me. The chattering resumes as the wind rushes through the trees.

“This isn’t real! None of those battles are!”

More faces appear, shaking and chittering away.

“What are you? Who are you!?”

The trees turn, and the faces stop moving. The wind stills and the silence is palpable.

“Haha, he figured it out.”

“Of course he did, he was the first in. Who else would?”

“He wants to know who we are!”

“Heh. He’s right, though”

The trees sink into the ground, the white faces surrounding me turn faded and plastic. The ground all around is flat, covered in regular marks. Towering above me is a monster - no, a woman. My target.

“It’s over! I’ve broken whatever defenses you weaved! Stand down or be destroyed!”

The woman rolled a large, marked object. It crashed toward me at random, before settling a distance away.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t think that’s quite right. You’re going to be stuck here for a while.”

“What! No, I’ve won!”

“Nah, not even close. My mind, my rules.”

“That’s not how it works. It’s neve-”


The word crashed into me, knocked me to the ground. Sank into my very bones.

“Yes, it is how this works.”

She slithered along, her ruby scales glinting in the blinding light from above.

“See, you jumped into my head. You had some pretty pathetic protections, and you dragged your friends along for the ride. If I hadn’t gone digging through your memories in return, I’d have thought it was an accident. But no-”

She raised her hand, claws pointing toward me.

“Your race has been doing this for ages. Enslaving species, taking their very wills from them. I don’t even know how you managed it like that, you seem so bad at it. In return, I did myself a favor.”

A glittering, dew-covered spiderweb dangled from her palm toward the floor, point after glistening point catching the light and sprouting new strands.

“I’ve taken your entire network - your whole race - for myself. You see, we had a fair idea of what happened to the first ship we sent out. We were prepared for the worst, and given rather impressive blanket permissions to do as we saw fit. Not quite enough to declare war, obviously.”

The web shook and shimmered, held in front of her gaze as she watched it grow.

“Fortunately, you let me take the initiative. War as we see it was already delcared by you and yours. And then you handed me this truly wonderful beauty on a silver platter. You know, your people didn’t even manage to do a collective properly.”

A hideous cube of conglomerate metal tore through space, piloted by monsters of flesh and machine made one.

“Anyway, you’ve effectively given me your entire species. I even managed to draw them all in here. Every. Last. One. And since you’re in no position to reject my request for an unconditional surrender, I’ll just move right on ahead.”

“As a duly appointed representative of humanity, I accept your surrender and charge you and your race with heinous war crimes beyond counting. You and your race, by your own memories, are hereby declared guilty. Your sentence is another matter entirely, though. It’s actually pretty simple. I can even spell it out in one word.”

“What word is that?”


Someday Your Child May Cry

Previously: Question | Preparations | Irrational | Confession | Collateral | Thoughtless

7. Interrupted

They haven’t talked about it, haven’t addressed it at all. Mulder knows that they should, that he should apologize for his complete insensitivity, his unforgivable callousness at promising to be there for her, and then forgetting. But to bring it up could invite further discussion on things like his potential involvement, should the pregnancy take… not to mention questions about his past involvement with Diana. Neither of these are things he feels equal to talking about just yet, and so he lets it go. And after several days’ frosty reception at their new home in the bullpen, Scully seems to let it go, as well.

But when he’s locked in a vending machine room in Dallas, staring at enough explosives to vaporize him in half a second, it’s all that he can think about- not just that he’s failed her, already, but that she could be pregnant right at this moment with his child, and unless someone arrives to cut him out of this room within the next few minutes, he will not be around to see it.

It’s only when faced with her loss, with her imminent departure for Utah, of all places, that he manages to make some halting, stumbling attempt at making his position a little more clear to her. When she tries to tell him that he doesn’t need her, that he never has, when she turns and leaves him standing broken in his apartment, that he realizes for the first time: she has no idea. What he feels for her, how he relies on her, what she means to him… she knows nothing about any of it. And how could she? He’s never really even tried to tell her.

He races out of his apartment with only one clear thought in his head: he has to tell her. Now. Before it’s too late.

But of course, he never gets that far. There are very few certainties in Mulder’s life, but among them is this: whether it’s ex-girlfriends, bombs, or bees, something will always interrupt them whenever they come close to anything approaching real honesty about what they mean to one another.


She runs over the sequence of events in her mind as she lies curled over him on the ice, repeating each step in the process over and over again, trying to stave off unconsciousness. It’s the same thing she does on stakeouts, on long drives, whenever she’s trying to stay awake- she repeats autopsy procedures, every muscle in the human body from head to toe, the proper way to disassemble and clean her firearm.

So now, lost in a vast expanse of snow and ice, at the edge of a crater whose bottom she cannot see, she recites the symptoms and stages of a healthy pregnancy, everything she can expect to experience, should it come to pass that the embryo transferred into her weeks ago has made itself at home.

Somewhere between “quickening” and “round ligament pain,” there’s a shimmer at the very edge of her vision, something she first dismisses as a hallucination, too good to be real… at least for someone whose luck seems to be as awful as hers.

But it’s not a hallucination; it’s a Sno-Cat, driven by coming to investigate the sudden seismic disturbance registered on the monitors at McMurdo Station. The last thing that Scully registers, as she finally succumbs to unconsciousness, is a pair of wide, shocked eyes, shielded behind the tinted plastic of their owner’s ski goggles.

She still feels frozen when she comes to, in spite of the warmth of the sterile, white room in which she’s lying- and in spite of the warmth of Mulder, lying on her cot next to her. He’s fast asleep, his arm locked stubbornly around her waist, the set of his face, even in unconsciousness, suggesting that someone in charge has already attempted- unsuccessfully- to remove him from her side.

She stirs, and in his sleep, Mulder tightens his hold on her. And even with the pervasive sense of cold still permeating her limbs, Scully begins to feel warmer.


She’s been telling herself, ever since waking up in the infirmary at McMurdo Station, that it’s not going to happen this time, that she can’t expect the IVF to be successful when her body has been through so much in such a short time. After the stress of losing their office and their work, the impact she’d been through when the bomb in Dallas had sent their car flying into the curb, the introduction of an unknown pathogen into her system, and her near-death by freezing in Antarctica, her body is hardly the most hospitable place just now for a developing child.

(The same could be said, really, of her entire life, but that’s not a thought on which she wishes to dwell, just now.)

But in spite of all her mental preparations, it still takes her by surprise, while she and Mulder are waiting for their flight out of Sydney, when her period starts.

Mulder reads her expression the moment she leaves the restroom, and his face falls. He opens his arms, and she doesn’t hesitate to walk into them.

“We’ll try again, Scully,” he promises, whispering in her ear as he rubs her shoulders consolingly. “We’re gonna get this right eventually.”

She wonders, as she leans against his chest and fights back tears, whether he’s only referring to the IVF.

When We Were Young Chapter Two: Kylo Ren/Ben Solo X Reader

Originally posted by nottinghaaam

A/N: Greetings lovelies! I hope all of you are having a great day, Im back with another chapter of When We Were Young! I was so happy to see such positive feedback it made me so happy! So without further a do


Word Count: 2,451

Pairing: Ben Solo/Kylo Ren X Reader

Trigger Warnings: None, really just mentions of TLJ and TFA spoilers! No Kylo/Ben in this chapter I apologize!!!

Summary: With the rise of the First Order, Kylo Ren, and the Knights of Ren, the Reader flees to the only family she ever had, Leia and Han Organa-Solo. Ten Years into the future, the Reader finds herself in the midst of the war between the Resistance and the First Order as General Organas right hand woman.

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Someday Your Child May Cry

Previous: Question | Preparations | Irrational | Confession | Collateral | Thoughtless | Interrupted | Recovering | Irresponsible | Possibility | Devastation | Confrontation | Generous | Confirmation | Understanding | Sight | Insatiable | Agreement | Family | Threatened

21. Terrified 

Scully’s self-control is immediately pushed to its breaking point the moment she walks into the hospital and sees Diana Fowley standing there. All she can think about is the loss of her first pregnancy, the abnormalities in her and Mulder’s child, the evidence that someone had tampered with it, and the knowledge, above all, that this woman had passed information on both her and Mulder to the most evil cabal of men that Scully has ever known.

It’s only the presence of Walter Skinner that stops her from attacking Fowley head-on, or from giving any sign that she knows anything about her true allegiances or what she’s done. Skinner has no idea, as of now, that Scully is pregnant, or even that she and Mulder have been trying to conceive, and with the suspicious way he’s been acting since assigning them this case, she would very much like to keep it that way. Nor does she want Fowley and the people she reports to knowing that their latest attempt had been successful.

Scully storms away from both of them, aware of Fowley’s eyes burning holes into her back. She throws open the door to the monitoring station they’ve just left and finds Mulder’s doctor still there, watching Mulder on the screen, frowning thoughtfully.

“I need you to let me in to see him,” she says, and the doctor shakes his head.

“As I’ve already told you, he’s been extremely violent to anyone who’s approached him. He attacked the woman out in the hallway earlier. I’m afraid that I cannot permit you to risk-”

“And I’ve already told you,” interrupts Scully, fixing the doctor with an icy glare, “that he will not harm me.” On screen, Mulder screams her name yet again, and the desperation in his voice feels like a knife in her gut. “I fully understand the risks and I take full responsibility. I’ll even sign a waiver if you want me to, but one way or another, I am going into that room- alone- and speaking with my partner.”

The doctor heaves a sigh and lifts one hand to rub wearily at his temple. “Fine,” he says. “But there will be orderlies outside of the door, and if he shows even the slightest sign of becoming violent, I’m sending them in, and this time, he’ll need to be fully restrained.” Scully nods tightly.

“Thank you,” she says. The doctor opens the door and holds it for her.

“Please follow me,” he says, and Scully does.


His head is a cacophony of voices, some familiar, some not, coming and going without warning. The mounting pain in his temples is going to kill him if it doesn’t let up, but as bad as it hurts, it’s secondary to the constant confusion of babbling that has taken over his mind.

After Diana had drugged him, he had regained consciousness in a hospital bed with her by his side, mumbling to herself in a confusing disjointed manner about sedatives, about the artifact, about Scully… about him. But when his vision had cleared enough for him to see her face, he’d realized that her lips were not moving. His strange ability, wherever it had come from, is still there. If anything, it’s getting stronger.

That had been the moment that he had vaulted from his hospital bed on unsteady legs and had seized a very surprised Diana by the shoulders, shaking her roughly, demanding answers from her as she had called for help. Orderlies had materialized from nowhere, restraining him, and since then, he’s been here, in this cell.

He can still sense Diana nearby, and while he’s finding it harder to make out her thoughts as clearly as before, he has, at least, gleaned one valuable piece of information: after drugging him in his bedroom, she had done no more than call an ambulance, and then sit calmly on the edge of his bed until it had arrived.

She had not, in the end, raped him.

He understands now that she had merely been trying to distract him, to keep him safely in his apartment until… but that’s where it becomes muddled and confused. All he knows is that she’d wanted him calm and docile. If he had slept with her, she would have drugged him during the act, but one way or another, the evening would have ended with her jabbing a syringe into his thigh.

There’s a pleasant wave of sensation at the edge of Mulder’s consciousness, like the feel of pressing a cold ice pack to a burn, the relief of a painfully cramped muscle releasing under massaging, caring fingers. It’s as though someone has just shone a warm, bright light into a dank and musty room, and he knows, immediately: it’s Scully.

For a moment, he’s overjoyed, until he remembers that Diana is out there as well. The thought of Diana following Scully out of the hospital, back to her apartment, taking her out as she walks, unsuspecting, to her front door, sends a blaze of terror through him. He has to warn her. He looks up at the camera mounted in the corner.

SCULLY!” His sense of her is stronger now, and he can hear the myriad questions tumbling through her mind at light speed, but he can’t keep up. If there had been any doubt left in his mind that she is smarter than he is, it’s now been thoroughly eradicated. 

Even though Mulder can’t make out her individual thoughts (and he’s not sure he wants to- Scully would be mortified, and then would likely kill him), he has not trouble sensing her fear, her worry, her frustration at being kept from his side. And when they finally open the door to his room and let her in, the wave of love that hits him is so strong that it quite literally drives him to his knees.

“Scully,” he croaks, and immediately she’s there, her arms around him. He’s surrounded not only with her sweet scent and her warmth, but with the feel of her devotion to him, her relief at being by his side.

“Mulder, I’m so sorry,” she says. “I got here as quickly as I could.” Mulder shakes his head.

“Not important,” he says, his voice hoarse. Speech is becoming progressively more difficult, and not just because his throat is raw from shouting. It feels as though it takes more and more effort to take a deep enough breath to get the words out. His mouth and tongue fight him as he struggles to warn her. “Scully… Diana. When you leave here… don’t let her follow you.” He’s slumping against her, barely able to keep himself upright. She pulls his head into her lap and strokes his hair. “She’ll hurt you.” A violent shudder runs through him at the thought. “To keep you out of the way.” He looks up at her imploringly. “Please, Scully. Don’t let her.”

“I won’t,” she says soothingly. “I’m going from here to the airport, Mulder. What’s happening to you… if the rubbing made from that artifact is really what caused it, then maybe seeing the rubbing’s source will help me figure out how to stop all of this.” Mulder nods his agreement with this idea. He has no illusions that there’s anyplace that Scully could go where she would truly be safe from Spender and his ilk, but somewhere as far away as the Ivory Coast is a start.

“I’ll….” He swallows,trying to will his mouth into action. “You go. I’ll be okay.”

“I’m holding you to that,” she tells him. “You’ve got to rest, Mulder. You need to keep calm. I promise, I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll take care of you and we’ll get you out of here.” He nods again as she begins to stroke his hair, and he nuzzles as close to her as he can get, the side of his face pressed into her stomach.

A strange sensation begins to take over his mind, and suddenly, his entire being is awash in a sense of peace, a sense of security, a sense of being closely protected. He closes his eyes and relaxes into it, regulating his breathing, trying to still the impulses of his limbs to move and twitch. The feeling is unlike anything he’s ever experienced. It’s as though he is weightless, suspended in warmth, completely enveloped in the knowledge that nothing can happen to him here.

It’s an absurd thought- there are countless terrible things that could happen to him here, and he’s fairly certain that at least some of them will happen, and soon. Still, Mulder clings to this feeling as tightly as he can, allowing it to fill him up, to slow his heartbeat, to calm him.

It’s only later, after the doctor has reappeared to state, emphatically, that visiting hours are over, that he realizes that that feeling may not have been coming from Scully at all.

laureljupiter  asked:

because I'm totally ridiculous and this is my new platonic crackship: 18 for Ben Solo and Rose Tico as nerd teamup forced to work together and developing A Rapport.


special shoutout to @futurecatladies, who I know is always down for that good good roselo content. this is technically platonic with shades of background reylo, but i think with just a minor nudge and minimal squinting one could consider it roselo instead (or even ‘also’). 

Rose watches him work from behind, half grateful and half incensed.

On the one hand, they’re barreling away from the Limiter, the First Order’s newest flagship, at high speed. She’s safe – relatively – and on her way home after only a day in a holding cell that could have easily become an eternity. Things are as good as they’ve been in at least a week, and for Rose that’s saying a lot.

But on the other, the other half of this ‘they’ is Kylo Ren, the one and only Supreme Leader of that same Order from which they’re currently running.

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Mei-Ling Zhou was a member of this multi-year initiative. A peerless climatologist, she had introduced cutting-edge innovations in the field of climate manipulation that protected at-risk areas in Asia and beyond. She was assigned to the program’s monitoring station at Watchpoint: Antarctica when disaster struck: a sudden, catastrophic polar storm battered the installation and cut it off from the outside world, leaving the facility damaged and the scientists stranded. As their supplies dwindled, they entered cryostasis in a last-ditch effort to survive until a rescue attempt could be made.

anonymous asked:

Can u do #62 from the prompt list w/ Hux please?

Of course! Thank you for requesting! :) 

62) “Please shut up. Just shut up.”

You’d been working diligently at your station, monitoring all movement in and out of the hangar bay you were assigned to when you saw him. He had only just rounded the corner, but his eyes found yours immediately. Your hands hovered above the console, frozen from the shock of seeing him. You snapped your focus back to your station, inhaling sharply. The part of you devoted to your station and to common sense remained firmly planted in your seat, but the other part of you was already halfway out the door.

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anonymous asked:

ooo pick me!!! can i get a ncis one??? abby best friend x reader x gibbs - abby bugs the reader about her feelings towards gibbs and then gibbs is standing behind her. maybe have it in sign language or something. love ya writing

Abby Knows


Originally posted by avengeyourbucky

Show: NCIS

Summary:  Having Abby as your best friend sometimes can prove to complicate your life.

Pairing: Jethro Gibbs x Reader

Warnings:  Fluff!!!

Word Count: 989

Reading Time: 4 minutes-ish

Request: Yes!! Keep em coming!

A/N: This was actually pretty fun to write! Love the request too! Feedback is always welcomed ♥

Tags: @spaceemonkeyyxd @lucifersagents @emilyymichelle @ncisfanficsandmore @gabriels-trix

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Tired--General Hux x Reader

You sat in the chair across the room, reading a book. A small yawn escaped your mouth as you continued reading. The sun had long set and bags were forming under your eyes. It was nights like these where you resorted to hot cups of tea and books to lull you to sleep. Tonight, however, was a different situation.

You were sleeping soundly when all of a sudden a terrifying dream began to terrorize your sleeping mind, causing you to rouse with your heart racing and a wet face. After countless minutes of tossing and turning, nothing was going to help you sleep, so you went to the option of reading with a hot cup of tea.

The sound of the pages turning was music to your ears and the feeling of warm tea sliding down your throat was soothing. You had been at this for two hours before you heard a rustling coming from the doorway of your bedroom. You looked over to see the one and only Armitage Hux standing in the doorway dressed in a white shirt and grey sweat pants. His hair was messy and his eyes were trying their best to stay open. He leaned against the doorframe.

“What time is it?” He asked, a yawn escaping him. You looked over at the clock sitting on the mahogany table.

“Three,” you stated, picking up your cup of tea and drinking the rest of it.

“Come back to bed, dear,” he replied before going back into your room and laying down once more. You sighed and closed your book, placing it on the table. You shut off the lamp that was beside you and headed over to the bed, laying down beside the sleepy general.

“Why are you awake at this hour?” He asked quietly, not opening his eyes.

“I had a nightmare that woke me up,” you said, snuggling into the warm blanket. He hummed in reply before throwing his arm lazily around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

“Can’t sleep again?” He asked you, rubbing his hand up and down your back. This action soothed you and allowed for you to relax. He must have felt you nod because he began humming a melody of a lullaby. Your eyes began to droop as your breathing became deeper and deeper and before you knew it, you were fast asleep once more.

Little did you know, Armitage was still awake. He waited for you to fall asleep before opening his eyes. He looked over your features and how relaxed you finally seemed. It had been days since you’ve slept through the night and it worried him. This lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll on you as you became more irritable and more exhausted with each passing day.

Hux also noticed the bags forming under your eyes and the paleness that accompanied your skin. Your beauty was being tarnished from the lack of sleep and he was going to get down to what the problem was.

The next day Hux stalked you from afar while you worked, observing anything that may affect your sleep patterns. The only thing that he noticed was you just doing your job–filling out paperwork, mailing items, and just working hard.

“General Hux,” someone behind him greeted. Annoyed, the general turned around and hissed out a, “what?!”

“It appears as though the plans for a new superweapon have been placed on hold due to circumstance that I’m not authorized to know about,” the nervous worker said, stumbling on a few of his words. Armitage raised his eyebrow and stared down at him.

“What is your name and job and who sent you?” He asked the nervous young man, tapping his foot.

“Jeffrey Filantro. I’m a technician and the commander sent me,” he mumbled just loud enough for Hux to hear. The blood inside of Hux began to boil at the thought of Kylo Ren.

“Get back to work,” Hux spat before marching off to find a certain knight.

That night you arrived home from work late, much to Armitage’s distaste. He just wanted you to get home quickly and to rest up.

“How was work?” He asked, flipping another page in the novel he was reading, not looking to you. You groaned.

“Today was horrible. Francine would not get off of my back,” you stated, plopping down onto the couch beside the ginger. Millicent hopped onto your lap and rubbed against your abdomen, wanting a nice scratch. You laid your hand on her and began to run it through her soft fur.

“I don’t have time for anything other than work anymore and it’s annoying because the others around me don’t get any of the work load even though they are the same position as me!” You exclaimed causing your furry friend to scurry off into another part of the apartment. Armitage closed the book and placed it on the coffee table before grabbing your hand in his.

“And how do you know that they aren’t getting the same amount of work?” He asked you calmly, giving you his full attention. You sighed and pushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“I see it, Armitage. Most of them just sit at their desks doing nothing. While I have a giant pile of papers, they might have one or two papers, if anything! And by a pile of papers, I mean a pile so big that it’d put your stack to shame! I’m so stressed out that I can’t even get a decent night’s sleep because my dreams are plagued with nightmares! I’m sick of doing all the work when it should be split evenly!” You yelled, standing up and walking to the window. You stared out into the deep forest of the base, holding back your tears. Armitage stood up and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder.

“How long has this been going on?“ He asked you, placing a kiss onto your temple. You shook your head and sighed.

“About a month now,” you mumbled. Armitage tensed.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner, love?” He asked you, more concerned than angry. “I would have understood.”

“Because I knew that you would raise Hell and I just got promoted that position and I didn’t want you to be anymore stressed than you are now,” you said, turning in his arms to face him. He looked down into your (e/c) eyes.

“You should never worry about that, (y/n). If you lost that promotion, you would have received it once more. I’m a very powerful man on this ship. And I wouldn’t be stressed if it meant that you could sleep peacefully at night,” he paused, looking into your eyes deeply. “I don’t think you realize how much I’d go through for you. I’d walk through the hottest desert and swim through the biggest ocean, anything to see you happy.” A smile came across your face after he said these words and you hugged him tightly.

“I love you, Armitage,” you told him before releasing him and getting ready for the night.

The next day, you awoke to an empty bed. You turned on your side, shutting the alarm off and looked at the clock. It read six o'clock. Armitage must have went to work early today since you didn’t see him anywhere. You got up from the bed and felt the cold air hit you like a racing pod. Your feet padded across the cold floor to the bathroom where you took a shower and dressed in your uniform.

Minutes later, you emerged from the steamy bathroom and walked to the kitchen to see that breakfast was made for you. On the plate rested scrambled eggs and two pieces of bacon. Beside it was a note.

‘Dear (y/n),

I left early today in order to settle the score of you being overworked. Continue your day as normal and I will see you when we get home.’

You ate your breakfast merrily and headed off to start your work day.

Hux made sure to get up early this morning in order to speak with Francine, your superior. He styled his hair extra neat today and made sure his uniform was crisp and clean. After writing the note, he left it by your plate of food and walked out and into the quiet hallway.

The doors to her office were coming into view and Hux made sure to put the best scowl on his face that he could muster. He straightened his shoulders and stood up tall, tilting his head up slightly. Knocking on the door, he waited inpatiently. When it opened, it revealed an old woman dressed in a clean uniform. Her graying hair was done up into the standard bun. Her jaw clenched and green eyes widened at the sight of the general.

“Good morning General Hux. Please come in,” she stated, standing up straight and opening the door further for Hux to walk through.

After entering the office, Hux stood by the chair as Francine sat down in her chair, readying some paper stacks labeled with the names of her workers. One of the stacks did have significantly more papers and Hux saw that it was yours. His blood began to boil.

“It has come to my attention that the work load has not been distributed evenly in your squadron,” Hux stated calmly, pushing aside his anger. Francine nodded.

“I suppose that is happening,” she sighed, knowing what was going to come next for her.

“I suggest you even it out or else I’ll make sure that your life on the Finalizer won’t be easy,” Hux threatened the woman.

“I will make sure to even it out then, General,” she stated, moving some of your stack into other stacks. Shortly after that, Armitage walked out of the office and to his own station of monitoring his workers.

That night, you slept soundly. The stress that you have been feeling has melted away in that single day. Thanks to Armitage, Francine left you a small stack of paperwork and tasks for the day and everyone else actually had something to do for work. A content smile came to your face as you watched Armitage sleep peacefully this morning. His mouth was slightly agape and his chest was moving up and down slowly. You carefully leaned over and kissed his forehead before cuddling into his side.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

anonymous asked:

Do transformers sleep? I guess recharge slabs are the closest thing yeah? Or can they sleep without being plugged into something? I feel like it's always been a little vague.

Depends on what story you’re reading! IDW has gone for “recharge slabs” as the in-universe allegory for sleeping, using them like beds and having characters “dream” or awake with a start. Historically, there are some examples of TF snoozing. Take this scene from early in Simon Furman’s run on the US Marvel comic:

Ratchet has essentially “dozed off” at his workstation and had a nightmare, but they have to use a human allegory to describe it. But then, compare that to Kup’s remarks from the G2 comic, but the same author:

Beast Wars characters would often sleep; “Feral Scream,” Part 2, for instance, has Cheetor refusing to use a CR chamber and instead going to sleep on his bunk, while Rattrap has a feet-up-on-the-console nap at his monitor station. They used terms like “nap” and “asleep,” rather than the techie “systems shutdown” of the Marvel example above.

Armada was big into characters sleeping, too; it was the first thing we ever saw Cyclonus do, and Scavenger was a fan of it too, with full blown snoring and unconscious scratching.

Animated made mention of “stasis naps,” one of which Ratchet took in vehicle mode at the side of the road. And there are a good few example of characters being hypnotized into a sleep-like state, too, by characters like Mindwipe or Hellbat, or Nightstrike.

So the broad answer is “yes, they sleep without needing to be plugged into anything, if you’re not worried about looking too deeply into the technological meaning and purpose of robot sleep.” IDW’s books seem to have wanted to justify such a thing, so they have recharge slabs to explain it.


Second installment of the Jacob Black “Home” series, requested by a few lovely anons. Since the series is pretty well mapped-out, all I needed was a request to continue, and you all seemed excited for the next part. Hope you like it!

All past and future installments of this series can be found on the “The Story Continues…” page.

Technically, you didn’t ‘wake up” on Monday morning, as you never managed to accomplish the blissful surrender of sleep. Your night was one of tossing aimlessly, lulled to the brink of peace by the pattering of rain against the siding of Charlie’s house, your mind kick-starting in what would be your last seconds of consciousness. You knew by midnight that you weren’t going to be able to trick yourself into a calm enough state for sleep. No, your impromptu rendezvous with Jacob the night before had your nerves hot-wired and electrified; not the best combination when all you needed was to slow your breathing and slip away for a few hours. So, technically, you arose on your first day back at Forks high school tired-eyed and groggy, silently cursing Jacob’s good intentions through a weak smile as you sauntered out of your bedroom, your joints crackling like a dying bonfire as you set your body into motion after so long stagnant. You heard Charlie moseying around his kitchen, taking extra care to close each uncharacteristically cheery yellow cabinet as quietly as he could, shuffling about from place to place. His actions were sweet, you’d give him that, and you’d probably appreciate them a bit more if you’d had any sleep that night… but there was absolutely no need to tiptoe around noiselessly when he was the only one waking up that morning. He had no way of knowing you’d been awake since Sunday morning. For all he knew, Bells was upstairs mumbling into her pillows. Perhaps you only noticed his quiet morning manner because you were so used to Renee’s slamming and hushed singing as she burnt your breakfast every morning. Charlie was different, that much was as obvious and as stark a contrast as black and white. But different wasn’t bad.

You stumbled through the doorway into the kitchen, Charlie’s head snapping around, his gaze falling on the deep splotches of colour beneath your eyes. You hadn’t passed by a mirror yet, thank God, but you knew you looked less than well-rested. His brow furrowed guiltily, his head lolling to the side as you mumbled an impressively gravelly “Good morning.”

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” He poked absentmindedly at the eggs he was preparing, his spatula inching this way and that through the masses of fluffy gold. Eggs again. His talent in the kitchen literally didn’t go any farther. Between Charlie’s extreme dairy intake and Renee’s regularly inedible creations, you’d never developed trust in the kitchen. Luckily for you, your sister knew her way around a frying pan. You’d have to poke Bella on this one, if she wasn’t already planning an attack.

“No, Dad. I couldn’t quite…” you trailed off, his eyebrow raising in confusion. You waved your hand in the air as if to swipe your unfinished speech from the morning air, your fingers snagging on vowels as consonants smeared across the chilling drafts creeping in from the open window. “Long night is all.” Charlie nodded, his mustache arcing as his lips tugged downwards. He removed the eggs from the stove top, scraping his gourmet breakfast onto a porcelain dinner plate. His torso twisted as he extended the typical meal towards your chest urging you with a wordless tip of his head to take the dish. He returned to the stove, cracking a few eggs onto the pan, the room sizzling with the sound of crackling heat. You moved to sit in your usual chair, grasping at the silverware Charlie inched in your direction.

“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Jacob, would it?” He asked, his deep voice tinged with a teasing bite, however honest his question was. You rolled your eyes, scoffing under your breath before forcing the eggs down your throat. “Okay, okay, I know my limits,” he poked around at Bella’s food, the plastic spatula scraping audibly against the non-stick surface. You waited patiently for the follow-up you knew was en route. Charlie may not talk much, but when he did he was about as predictable as rain in your tiny town. “I’m just saying… that kid’s good for you, Y/n. As a friend, or…” You were saved from Charlie’s wingman speech by Bella’s entry, her eyes identically bruised beneath from lack of sleep. You lifted your head in nonverbal greeting. Charlie lifted his gaze from the stove, smiling briefly. “Morning, Bells. Sleep well?” Bella collapsed into her chair, her index finger and thumb meeting on her lower lip, absentmindedly running over the smooth skin they encountered there.

“Rain kept me up for a while, midnight maybe.” Charlie grunted apologetically, however awkwardly the apology was, as he portioned the rest of the eggs onto two dishes, taking his seat after placing a plate before Bella. Bella dug in, shoveling a steaming mass of gold into her mouth, chewing around her next words. “Seriously, I was drowning. I thought you said it was going to be a dry year?” At this, Charlie’s head popped up, his brow furrowed at the very thought.

“Dry year? Where did you hea-” He began to form some sort of meteorological explanation for why Forks would likely never have a dry year, but your foot beneath the table silenced him before he could let slip any incriminating details. You shot him a cautioning glance, your lips pursed against verbal warning. His eyes widened in understanding, and he ducked his head to his food. The rest of the meal was spent in comfortable silence. Charlie ducked out minutes before you did, off to the police station to monitor all that nothing with his armoured, riot-trained buddies. As soon as Bella finished eating, you washed and dried the dishes, packed your book bags, and started out. Climbing into Bella’s truck was a brief, happy reminder of the availability of Jacob; now that you were back in your old stomping grounds, you’d be able to spend so much more time with him. It wasn’t likely that Charlie would mind. Hell, he might even push you out the door and drive you to La Push himself. He was that eager to be Billy’s in-law. It was ridiculous. The car carried the faint (but prominent) aromas of spearmint and tobacco; not the heady stench of cigarettes, but the sweet, vanilla-shadow of good cigars. Had Billy been a smoker? It sure as Hell wasn’t Jake. Perhaps Harry Clearwater had borrowed the truck after Billy was confined to his chair. You didn’t mind the scent. It was… comfortable. Aged, like leather. It may have lost its initial luster, but the durability and dependability would always be there. Bella slid into the driver’s seat, shaking rain from her sleeves as she settled in. She turned the key in the ignition, causing the both of us to start.

“You’ve released the beast, Bells,” you whispered, projecting even so soft a sound as your voice in order to be heard over the colossal roar of the truck’s engine. Hey, if this was the only fault, Bella would be safe. She backed out of Charlie’s driveway, her warm brown eyes flashing to yours after a few seconds on the main road.

“The thing’s got character,” she replied, chewing anxiously on her lip. She had more to say. “This… this isn’t going to stick out, is it? I mean, you’ve been to the school. It’s not too bad, is it? The sound?” You shook your head, dismissing her worry.

“No, most of the student body drives clunkers. You’ll only stick out because you’re a new face. I’m sure you’ll be fine in a week or so.” You managed to sink one of her fears while simultaneously giving birth to another. She sighed, allowing her breath to dip into a groan as she ran out of air to expel from her lungs. “Bella, you’ll be fine. Just talk about Phoenix and try not to take anyone with you if you fall.” She snorted, gripping the wheel with a firmer conviction, likely thinking of rooting herself to the car seat to avoid any possible (and likely) wipe-outs.

“Yeah, I’ll try my best.” The remainder of the drive was spent in silence as Bella squinted through the light rain bouncing off of her windshield, following the very minor directions you supplied as the road wound on. Eventually, you arrived in the minimalist parking lot of Forks high school. You could read Bella’s face like a book as she analyzed the school’s exterior, noting the lack of barbed wire and security guards. It was a whole lot different than Phoenix, that much was obvious. The school consisted of a cluster of brick buildings, more homely than educational, leaving the students milling about in the damp morning looking like over-friendly neighbors conversing over their soggy lawn divides, casually holding conversation while sticking behind their respective borders. There were very few people present this early, but it gave your sister enough time to stumble her way to the main office. You bid her farewell and the best of luck, watching her wander off as you started towards a group of vaguely familiar faces, wishing every hood was hiding a face you knew to be miles away.

The school day was rather stereotypical. Your classes were hushed by the calming soundtrack of the rain beating against the windows. You were surprised to find the student body was merging classes together; a certain Angela Weber was in your English class, despite the age difference of a year that should have separated you. Looks like Forks was dipping in population again. She was a familiar face in the library, both in and out of school. You two got along swimmingly. You passed Bella in the halls more than once, and each time you saw her she was flocked by one of the overtly desperate bachelors in her grade. Mike Newton’s spiky hair was visible, even if his face was fully absorbed in Bella’s. You thought you caught Eric Yorkie jabbering on about after school extracurriculars, but you couldn’t be sure. His hair was very similar to Ben’s, and he passed by too quickly to distinguish. Lunch was average. Bella had made a friend in Jessica Stanley, the bouncy one that hung around Mike. Bells was quiet, mostly, a familiar habit of hers, but she seemed comfortable enough. This was, of course, before Biology.

You hadn’t met the Cullens last year. It was, ironically enough, a rather dry season, and they were always… camping, you think. Charlie was on good terms with the adoptive father, and because of their rather distant friendship, you heard bits and pieces about the children. Well behaved, smart clothing, fast cars, the likes. None of Charlie’s prompting could have prepared either you or Bella for the reaction of the youngest son of the doctor. That first day left a mark on Bella, and no amount of assurance about their usual manners could have erased the stain in her eyes after the horrific experience of being Edward Cullen’s lab partner. She was quizzical during the car ride home, and you told her what little you knew of the siblings. You’d glimpsed the shorter one in the halls once or twice throughout the day, but she had seemed aloof… distracted somehow, on a different plane of existence. Her eyes were strangely dark, you remembered, and she looked confused as she passed. She could have glanced your way, but you weren’t exactly following her on your radar, so you couldn’t spill your findings to Bella with the required confidence. The majority of the ride, however, was spent discussing faces and matching names to each she’d interacted with throughout the day. She was partial to Jessica, and she found both Mike and Eric kind enough to disregard how blatantly clingy they were. As she pulled into the driveway, all talk of the Cullen boy was long gone. Thoughts, however, would linger.

Charlie’s cruiser was in his parking spot, surprisingly enough. You’d thought his shifts would be longer than the seven-odd hours you’d been away at school. You slid from the passenger seat, trailing along behind your sister, your mind calculating and recalculating how probable it was for Charlie to be taking his lunch break at home. His jacket was hanging by the door, pistol and all, and the softened sounds of sports announcers blared through the drywall separating the entryway from the living room. He must have gotten the day off, seeing as the crime-rate in Forks was dipping below the marked average. Bella ducked into the kitchen, giving you a knowing look that easily narrated how quickly she intended to remedy your meal plan, leaving you to greet the Chief. Charlie was in civilian dress, his feet propped-up on the coffee table. He grinned when he saw you, sitting straighter, dislodging himself from the divot he’d created in the sofa’s cushions.

“Hey, Y/n, how was your first day back?” Almost as soon as the words had slipped through his lips, he was following up with another message. “Jacob called a few minutes ago, you just missed him.” You replied quickly to his inquiries, congratulating him on the much-needed time off, darting around the corner to the landline, the sounds of Bella rifling through Charlie’s refrigerator mingling sweetly with the banter of the anchors emanating from Charlie’s television. It sounded like home. You snagged the post-it note from the wall, furiously jabbing Jacob’s number into the phone, holding the receiver to your ear, your heart racing along to every tedious dial tone. Jake answered on the second ring. Clearly, he was lingering by the phone.

“Hey! That was quick,” he remarked, his voice spreading warmth over the miles that separated you. God, it was good to be near Jacob again.

“Yeah, I just got in. The truck runs great, by the way. A little warning with the engine would’ve been nice, but it runs just fine.” Jacob chuckled, his laughter crackling over the line.

“Sorry about that. I just wanted to make sure you kept the thing. I’d be driving it if it wasn’t for Bella. Tell her thanks for me.” He paused, inhaling deeply, the clinking of his household activities transferring dully to your end. “So, is Charlie watching the game tonight?” His voice was strangely hopeful for the topic of college football. You ducked your head around the corner, repeating the question to your father. He nodded, occupied by the predictions being spewed at him through the screen. You relayed the information to Jacob, who seemed to smile audibly. “That’s great! Billy’s got some of Harry’s fish fry. Your dad’s welcome to come over. Billy hasn’t seen Bella in years, and I’m sure he wants to talk about the truck.” He paused, sighing sarcastically. “”And I guess you can come too.” You laughed, your voices intertwining. When Jake continued, his tone was lifted slightly by the dying end of his laughter. “No, seriously, come over. I can’t sit through another game on my own. I need you here, Y/n. I’ll lose it, I swear.” You giggled, leaning your shoulder against the wall, eyeing Charlie through the opening in the living room wall.

“Yeah, I’ll come around. If Harry’s cooking, it won’t take much to get Charlie moving either. I’ll see you later on, then.” Jacob, again, smiled through the phone. The kid radiated positive energy like a nuclear reactor.

“Sure, sure. See you then.” You hung up, your hands lingering on the smooth plastic of the telephone, your heart hammering in your chest. Your months without Jacob Black were about to be erased from your memory completely. La Push was a promise tugging you towards the horizon, coaxing you out the door with whispers of Jacob’s name.

sorcerouscheerleader  asked:

Quicktaser (Darcy/Pietro Maximoff) Please

[Hello, I Love You - The Doors]

A/n:  This made me think of an idea I’ve had floating around in my head for a while.  Pietro gets drugged or bumps his head and ends up with temporary amnesia (or something), and he wakes up thinking he and Darcy are in love.  Even though they’re not.  YET.  

Darcy grumbled under her breath as she made her way down the hallway to the medical unit.  

She swore Pietro bumped his head just to get on her nerves.  She had to fill out a damn form for every scratch on his body.  And the dude ran around like it was going out of style or something.  

Human Resources was an effing joke.  She did more work there than she ever did as a lab assistant.  She’d have to talk to Tony about this.  Because good effing grief.  

She approached the door just as a nurse was leaving. She reached out to stop Darcy.  "Oh…you can’t go in unless–“  

"I’m the HR rep for the Avengers, I have forms?”  Darcy reached down to her hip to snap out her ID badge from her hip.  "I can go in.“

She reached for the handle amidst the nurse’s protestations.  She shut the door behind her, muffling them considerably.  Exhaling loudly, she made her way over to the bed where he was laying.  He even had a bandage this time, he must have really knocked his noggin.  

"Heya, Piet.  What did ya hit it on this time?”  

He turned to look at her, blue eyes still a little wide to be considered well.  Maybe he actually had hit it this time.  "Hello?“  

She smiled in what she hoped was a warm way, and not full of impatience.  "Hey…you okay, dude?”  

His smile widened goofily into a full-on grin.  "I think I love you?“ He reached for her, his fingers grazing the hem of her jacket before he dropped his arm.  "Do I?”  

“Not to my knowledge,” she replied.  "I’m going to take it that you definitely knocked the old noggin good this time.“  

"What’s your name, princeza?”  

“You know my name.”  

“I forgot…” he said, laughing loudly and scaring her a little as he sat up. He was sloppy, but he was still quick. “I forgot your name, you beautiful creature…”  

“Darcy,” she reminded him, reaching for the nurse button and think that she definitely should have listened to the one outside his room.  "My name’s Darcy.“  

"DARCY!  I do love you, Darcy.”  

“I can assure you that if you do, you have a hell of a way of showing it…I’m gonna go…talk to your doctor, Pietro.  Can you just…sit tight for a sec?”  

“I would do anything for you, draga.  Your wish is my command.”    

“Okay…” she said, grinning widely.  "Just stay still and don’t fall out of bed.“ 

She backed out of the room and directly into the chest of the on-staff doctor.  She made a point of closing the door before speaking.  "What the hell’s wrong with him? I thought he just bumped his head?”  

“That’s why we wanted you to wait before going in to speak with him…” the doctor said with a sigh.  "He did just bump his head.  It was a small bump, nothing that could cause that reaction…"

“So what happened?” she repeated.  "Because he’s…not himself.“

"We found a small pin-prick on his neck, along with some bruising.  We think he was drugged.  Although, he metabolizes things so quickly, it’s difficult to ascertain what it was.”  

She nodded.  "Okay, well.  He thinks he’s in love with me. What do I do about that?  I’m just his HR rep.“  

"Placate him for a while, at least until we can figure out what happened.  There isn’t any need to upset him in this state.”  

“Placate him?  Like…what?”  

The doctor made a face.  "Don’t be ridiculous.  Just…don’t deny what he says. It’ll only be for a few hours tops.“  

"A few hours, huh?”  Darcy glanced back over her shoulder at the room.  "I can handle a few hours.“  

"Thank you. And I’m sure he’ll thank you once he’s back.”

There was a loud crash in the room behind them, along with a lot of beeping monitors at the nurse’s station.  Darcy followed them back into Pietro’s room, wanting to laugh at what she saw, but she knew she couldn’t.  

He’d fallen out of bed, taking the IV tower with him because whatever they’d given him had made him the superspeed equivalent of a dog in a moving car.  "Sorry…" he apologized, his eyes seeking out Darcy in the doorway.  "I thought something happened to you.  You were gone for so long.“  

Scratch that.  He was a puppy.  A big doofy puppy on a slick linoleum floor.   

"Sorry, babe!  I was just talking to your doctors.”  

“You’ll stay here with me now?”  

“Yep.  I’m here until you’re sick of me,” she said, walking into the room.

“You’re here forever then, I could never be sick of you, moja princeza.”  

He’d better thank me… she thought to herself.

So I just stumbled across this game called Stories Untold. A text based adventure with four episodes. It’s very fascinating and it has a very unique narrative and this atmosphere of Stranger Things. However, its awesomeness it’s not really what I want to focus on. What inspired me to write this post was all the Operation OUT feelings this game gave me and I just wanted to freak out about it a little bit.

Spoilers ahead. If you want to play the game, you should not keep reading this. You’ve been warned!

Four episodes, seemingly unrelated, but that reference each other in subtle ways. That is until the last episode where everything is fully connected, makes absolute sense and your mind is fairly blown away by it. I just saw the ending and something in my head just went ‘Oh my God, this is exactly what is happening with Emma!!!’ Because that’s how my mind works these days (I can’t seem to get rid of this show! Unbelievable, everything brings me right back XD) 

First episode - The House Abandon

It all starts with the protagonist in a room, playing some creepy game on an old computer. As we play said game, some weird stuff starts to happen in the house we are in and suddenly what we’re playing on the computer seems to be connected with what is happening around us. An Inception kind of thing? ‘A game within a game’? Yeah, that’s right. At the point wherein the end of the episode we almost faced ourselves. 

Second episode - The Lab Conduct

We are now participating in an experiment, trying to open some kind of artifact, a box with a heart inside. At this point everything makes you believe this is an alien related story. More weird stuff happens while we’re running tests in the heart and we end up connected with it or with this AI that starts to show us things, strange memories where we’re stuck in a spaceship and are faced by a silhouette. The AI then proceeded to connect us with another subject in the facility that is trying to break free and run away. Apparently, the subject is controlled by our actions and the AI wants to reveal something to us with this whole thing. 

I know that you’re probably wondering what the hell this has anything to do with OUAT or Operation OUT, but I’m getting there. Are you still with me? OK then… 

Third episode - The Station Process

Once again we are in an entirely different environment, somewhere in the middle of Arctic or somewhere else entirely and you’re responsible for a monitoring station where people on the radio gives you instructions and warnings about some creature lurking in the snowstorm outside. And guess what? More weird stuff happens and you have no idea what’s really going on. Someone from one of the other stations apparently died already and the only one left, a woman, keeps saying that she’s on her way too. She doesn’t feel her legs, she’s tired and asking what you’re doing and you’re just wandering in the snowstorm completely alone. Then you start to hear voices, whispers, somebody telling you that you need to come back and wake up. They’re all waiting for you. And somehow while you’re trying to return to your station you end up in the room from the first episode instead and the voice we kept hearing, asking us to come back, give his welcome.

Fourth episode - The Last Session

The last episode, finally! This episode makes everything that didn’t make any sense until now suddenly drip with meaning. It starts with our protagonist watching a show on TV, a show that goes by the same name of the game, Stories Untold (this game is so meta, I can’t even). 

We are in a hospital or mental institution, I don’t know for sure and a doctor guides us to a room where we’ll be interrogated. He tells us that we need to remember what really happened, that it was time to stop what we were doing and faced the truth. The same AI out of nowhere appears in front of us and we get some flashes of some parts of the previous episodes, but this time, we learn what they were really about and here is where my mind went full mode on Operation OUT. 

The story beneath the surface of what we were seeing was that our protagonist was in fact in a coma or a comatose state. He was involved in a car crash caused by him (he was drunk) that, unfortunately, ended up leading to his sister’s death (remember the woman on the radio in the third episode? Well here she is). His guilt, the trauma and everything that happened around him made his mind mess with all those memories. Everything weird that was going on in the game was a combination of him remembering the crash and what he was experiencing while in the coma. 

People giving him instructions through the radio in the third episode was people trying to communicate with him, see if he was responding to those commands. The experiment with the heart and the box were actually doctors trying to resurrect him and fix his brain injury. The spaceship and the silhouette were, in fact, him remembering being trapped in the car and a police officer coming in his direction… It was all wrapped up in a sci-fi background because it was related to the TV show he was being exposed to (at least that was my interpretation, I was too busy losing my mind over this plot twist).

In Emma’s case, she is wrapping everything up with fairy tales, they are her way to cope with traumas and unpleasant memories. The truth about her history, about what’s going on in the real world it’s hidden and all mixed up inside her head. 

The incredible part of this is that the game gave away really clever hints in order to us to figure it all out before the last episode. It was in the dialogue all along, almost in plain sight, but still hidden enough that we barely put too much thought into it. It was in the visuals and now that I stopped to analyze it, the color patterns of blue and red, reminiscent of sirens were very present throughout the episodes. It was in the sound effects too! Sounds of machines and other stuff… 

All of it really made me think about all those hints A&E left for us to figure it out what the Stories left Untold in Once Upon A Time are. 

 Anyway, this is it. I just wanted to share this because I got all excited about it XD