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vellichor-of-the-solivagant · 3 days ago

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How To Plant Snapdragons | 14

Task Force 141, Keegan & Konig x Female Criminal!Reader

Previous Chapter / Masterlist

You and the team tore through the night and storm, fighting off the savage waves of the sea. The wind slammed on your faces as though ready to tear your flesh apart and scatter it across the water.

Ghost conversed with Graves on the comms and the boat swerved to the left towards the ship, whereas the one Johnny was on with Alejandro and Graves continued forward.

You didn't want to leave Soap alone, but for a better strategy to take over the ship and rig, spreading man power was necessary.

The boat slowed and Rodolfo shot a hook skyward and managed to get it stuck onto the railings of the ship in a second. You climbed onto the rope and immediately spotted Ghost slashing throats and blasting holes through heads on his way.

And fucking hell, you would never get enough of hot, confident men who got the strength and skills to back it up.

You slid down the floor, assisted by the water causing it to become slippery, and fired at a couple of people. You stood up and cursed, losing your balance as the ship tipped over to the right. Ahead, a container swerved to your path causing your heart to leap to your throat as you made a run to the side and shrieked when the ship tipped to where you were going, making the container follow your track.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You sprinted to the other side and screamed when you spotted another container going your way just as you slipped. “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK—”

Something slammed against the container and your eyes widened when you realized it was Ghost, holding it back before the ship tilted to the side again. By the second you back up on your foot, you were heaved up in the air and thrown in a room, before another container slammed at the entrance, trapping you inside with the Lt.

“Good lord, I almost became a pancake,” you sighed in relief and looked up at Ghost. “Thank you, sir.”

God, you just wanted to jump on him and pepper him with kisses and let yourself be manhandled the way he wanted.

He looked down on you, reaching down a hand which you took and steadied yourself up. “Ya good?”

“Yeah.” You forced out a soft laugh. “I think the containers have something against me cuz two of them came at me at the same time.” You watched him gaze down on you, but not on your face, and so, you followed the direction of his eyes. “Oh.” You quickly pulled your hand back and wrapped it around your rifle instead. “Sorry.”

“Be careful,” he commanded, but it sounded more of a reminder. “Let's go.”

You nodded in agreement and rushed back out, minding the way where the ship would incline and the direction where the containers would move.

“Snapdragon.”

You turned to Ghost, who wasn't looking at you, but you knew it was him who called. He didn't say anything after, so you didn't bother uttering a word and focused on taking down the rest of the cartel.

“Shampoo.”

You grumbled. “Alright, what is it?”

“What did the Shampoo say to the hairbrush?”

“God, not Shampoo puns,” you begged, shaking your head, but it didn't stop him.

“Let’s comb-ine forces and make this hair-mazing,” he said in a flat tone, but you could hear a stifled cough from him. “Why did the shampoo get in trouble at school?”

You snorted. “Go on.”

“It kept on skipping conditioning class.” He slashed a man’s throat and pushed the person off the ship.

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, slick.”

He turned to you, swiping the blood off his skull, which easily came off due to the rain. “Like the conditioner?”

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. “Get outta here.”

“Negative. You can’t condition the enemies on your own.”

“Stoooop,” you whined, removing the pin from a grenade and throwing it ahead.

“You called ‘Snapdragon’, eh?” He grabbed your arm and pulled you away from a container. “Suits you, since you snap at everything and you've got us drag on to your antics.”

“Please.” At this point, you wanted to cry. No one had ever attacked you with so many puns in a row.

“Please what?”

“. . . Sir.”

“Good.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA—

You never wanted to fuck someone in the rain, in a tilting ship, between crates and containers, above dead corpses, till you drown, till he became like the skull on his balaclava until now.

Was it the puns? Sure, okay, it did add points. Being funny was always a plus point. But heck, the guy didn't even need to talk much and he could still be hot. Because, your honor, how could a guy not be hot after stopping a fucking container to save your slippery ass?

You waved a finger at the lieutenant. “Don't call me that, sir. I might jump onto you.”

Then, Graves’ voice came from the comms, interrupting your little, spontaneous date with Ghost (which was definitely one-sided). “Shadow 0-1 to Ghost!”

You stepped before him to guard him in case there were more enemies left as Ghost tapped on his device. “Ghost to Shadow, how copy?”

“The controls . . . that ship!” Graves yelled, the connection a bit patchy due to the weather, but he repeated his words, making it clearer. “Soap and I are on the way there!”

“Rog. We'll clear the way till you get here,” Ghost answered back through the comms and nodded at you to follow him.

You clicked your tongue. “Just when I thought we're clear and having fun.”

“We can continue that later,” he said in a low voice.

You might as well break your neck as you snapped your head in his way as quickly as lightning. What was that supposed to mean? What the fuck? Did you hear him right? Was it flirting? Eh, Ghost? Eh. No way. But, what if?

You looked around for the rest of the team and spotted Rodolfo and some Shadows closing in to your spot. You gestured at him and the rest of the men to catch up with you and Ghost.

Then, you felt a rumble as something seemed to have hit the ship from the side, and from your peripheral, you saw Soap and Graves' boat flying up into the ship. You gaped at their ridiculous sight and landing.

You had seen Keegan drive a truck over dozens of people and through a wall, love him for that, but this was on another level.

“Are you two trying to be in a circus?” you exclaimed and approached them, eyeing for any sign of injuries on their bodies.

“I like the SAS,” Soap grunted as he got off. You reached out a hand to him which he took and helped him steady himself on the swaying ship.

“Nothing is greater than being a PMC.” Graves ran his hand down his face, swiping the rainwater off.

You shook your head at their answers, but didn't further say any words to them and guided them towards the entry of the building where Ghost stood by with Rodolfo. Without hesitation, Graves stuck bombs on the metal door and all of you backed away as it exploded and waited for the smoke to clear. Once it did, Graves kicked down the door, leading the way inside.

A narrow hallway welcomed you, forcing the group to step in one by one, but even though Graves wasn't a 141 member, he was swift to bring down enemies and clear the way.

Sure is a CEO of mercenaries, you thought as he and Soap found the controls in a room up the stairs, quickly tapping in to intercept the fire of the missile. And in all honesty, you would have liked him if he wasn't Shepherd's lapdog.

But sooner or later, you would have him wrapped around your finger like a string, and use it to fucking strangle the general.

“Shit, we can't disarm it!” Graves exclaimed, slamming the tablet down the table.

You peered over the device and squinted your eyes at a familiar logo. “That fucking bitch,” you said under your breath as Graves’ talked with Shepherd and shoved the man aside. “Move.” You snatched the tablet from the table.

“What are you doing?” Graves questioned, clutching the tablet as well, but you kept your grip firm.

“I know—”

Shepherd talked over you. “We don't need your bullshit right now, woman. The clock is ticking!”

You stared at the tablet for a moment, confirming the design of the logo, and huffed, letting it go. “Fine. You won't give those controls to one of its developers, your loss.”

Soap put a hand on your shoulder. “What do ya mean by that?”

“One of its developers?” Ghost echoed.

“What are you insinuating?” Shepherd asked, his voice lowering into a threatening tone.

“No bullshit, yeah?.” You moved away from the controls, walking towards the entryway of the room. “Then, I say I couldn't care less about that missile launching. And I couldn't careless if you lock me up again and torture me for months, because by the end of the day, it will be your loss.”

“I would certainly want to go back to those days, Snapdragon,” Shepherd claimed in a mocking tone. “Get onto it, Shadow.”

“On it, standby,” Graves replied, motioning at Soap to join him on the controls. Soap shot a glance at you before standing next to him and began working on the controls. Meanwhile, Ghost ordered Alejandro, his men and the rest of the Shadows to get out of the oil rig.

With a few hits on the controls, the missile flew upward and just as fast, it dove to the structure, but your attention was quickly taken as the ship tilted and you felt a tap on your shoe.

You gazed down and stared at the corpse next to your feet, the sole of your boots tainted in a puddle of blood, oozing out from his head, where the bullet went through. And thoughts once again began to erupt in your head.

As you continued to look at the hole on the man’s head and the puddle of blood that reflected your gaze, you wanted to put your finger through where the bullet landed and see if it fits.

Slowly the man’s eyes fluttered open, staring back into you, black as the void, as though wanting to swallow you whole. You felt a lump at your throat, blocking off any words from rolling out of your tongue and all you could hear was the deafening drums of your heart, and distant screams, begs . . . cries.

You tried to avert your eyes, but you couldn't. The man’s gaze kept you imprisoned, frozen in nothing but darkness. Yet you could feel their hands crawling up on your like thousands of ants on your skin until they stopped at your throat, gripping tight, digging their nails onto your skin.

It hurts. Make it stop.

Blood rushed down from your throat, mixing with the void.

Make it stop!

Make it—

“Stop!”

You were welcomed with a shade of brown so deep it reminded you of the woods, that perhaps getting lost into them instead was a salvation. The surroundings were cold like the gentle caress of the droplets of rain from the leaves on your cheek. The tug was a patient and gentle guide to which you were sure there was safety, where your eyes settled on a man with a face hidden behind the remains of a corpse.

“Bloody hell!” Simon exclaimed, tilting your head up to take a look at your neck, where blood began to spill from reddened and swollen scratches. His eyes shifted to your hands on his, your nails appeared to have tints of red.

“Yeh alright, Bonnie?” Soap asked, reaching out a hand as he stood by your side, but didn't touch you.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

Ghost, then, tilted your head up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Five things you can see.”

“H-huh?” Your voice came out trembling, a bit taken aback by his words.

“Five things you can see,” he repeated.

“Uh . . .” You scanned the place. “Windows, computers, the sea . . .” You glanced at the Scot and settled back to him. “Soap and you.”

“Good. Four things you can hear.”

“The ocean, the rain, you and . . . Soap.”

“Okay, three things you can touch.”

“Your gloves, your hands, and Soap’s.” Just as you said that, Johnny placed his hand on your cheek and smiled softly at you.

“Two things you can smell,” Ghost demanded.

You leaned on Soap’s touch, eyes falling halfway close. “Rust and the ocean.”

“Last, one thing you can taste.”

You shook your head. “Don't know.”

Ghost nodded. “Good enough, do you feel at least a bit better?”

“Yeah,” you heaved out a loud sigh.

“Your neck isn't,” Soap remarked, shaking his head. “You suddenly got quiet, you didn't seem to hear us, and you began clawing on the throat mic till you bled. Ghost had it removed already but . . .”

You reached up your free hand to your neck, but Ghost grabbed it, stopping you.

“Touching it furthermore might cause an infection,” he said, swiping the blood from your fingertips with his gloves. “We'll take care of it later.”

“What about Graves?” You scanned the room once again, you didn't notice it earlier but the Shadow himself was nowhere to be found.

“He went out first, he was talking to Shepherd,” Soap explained and tugged down on your collar, to keep it away somehow from your scratches. He eyed the redness and the clotting blood.

Maybe, you weren't so invincible after all, that sometimes the human inside you breaks out of the shell where you were locked in as a weapon as Shepherd and Graves stated.

Maybe, you weren't exactly what he had concluded. But he wasn't one to talk.

Soap was a man who hid bodies behind closets. A man who washed the dirt and blood he had spilled.

“Come here, love,” he gently wrapped his hand around your nape.

Perhaps, he had gone crazy, because he wanted to clean up a mess, not from his brothers-in-arms nor the enemies, but someone who seemed to have been bathing on it for long.

His lips crashed onto yours as you turned to him, eyes going wide whereas his was shut close. He licked over your lips and you parted them open, closing your eyes as he took over your mouth. His tongue swirled with yours, eliciting a groan from you. But it soon ended, with him pulling away, leaving a string of saliva between you.

He smirked, running his thumb over your lower lip. “What do you taste now?”

Once again, you were rendered speechless as your face burned red.

“That's two,” Ghost claimed, making you warmer than before, as it dawned on you that he heard your moan. “That's fucking two, right in front of me.”

“And yet, you kept on holding her hands.” Johnny looked down at your hands within Ghost’s grasp, and you closed your eyes, pursing your lips. “Say it, Lt. You also like—ow!”

“Could you guys move?” You asked, pushing Soap inside the vehicle, making him scoot more towards the Lt. on which your superiors both grumbled.

You shut the door close with a loud thud and Rodolfo shot a quick glance at the mirror, making sure you were settled before he drove off.

You peered over the window, letting the wind trash your hair and the rain kiss your skin. Others might find it suffocating, but you find comfort in the harshness it brought, and perhaps, you had become so comfortable that you only realized the vehicle had come to a stop at the entryway of Alejandro's base.

Your eyes narrowed at the unusual number of Shadows stationed at the gate and pulled yourself back in the transport, only to swing the door open. You jumped out and quickly joined Alejandro's side before Graves.

“What is this?” Alejandro motioned a hand at the Shadows, who were all lining up behind Graves.

You began counting the heads.

“Step away from the gate,” Graves commanded, making you frown.

“Hold up,” you stepped in front of Alejandro. “This is the Colonel's base.”

“Alejandro's soldiers have been relieved from this operation,” he said, tilting his chin up high and looking down at you with a half-lidded gaze. “This is under General Shepherd's order.”

“That bullshit came from him?” Soap questioned, taking the Colonel's other side.

Alejandro grabbed your shoulder, gently pushing you aside and stepping forward. “I don't take orders from you,” he glowered at the American.

You glanced over your shoulder and found a couple of Shadows behind and in front of Ghost. Then, you looked ahead and squinted your eyes at the Shadow who put his hand next to his ear and with the movements behind his balaclava, you realized he was talking to someone.

You reached for your knife.

“General Shepherd has sent his regards . . .” Graves trailed off and let go of his gun, letting it fall by his side. “Is what he told me to say, but I've got better things to do than this shi—”

“Get down!” With a swift hand, you aimed at the Shadow who raised their gun, while shoving Graves aside. You threw the knife, taking down the man, but all of them had started to shoot. “This is why I told you to fucking know your Shadows! They're hired by Shep—argh!” You staggered back as a bullet pierced through your shoulder.

Alejandro rushed forward, but a Shadow shot at his arm and hammered his head with the bottom of their gun.

You dove down behind the vehicle, grimacing at the sudden pain. Just as you were about to grab Graves, a bullet whistled past. “Graves! Alejandro!”

From your peripheral, Ghost slit a Shadow’s throat open and turned, launching the same knife at another one's neck.

At the same time, Graves had been shot at his shoulder and his men—now his own enemies quickly tied his wrist.

No, you didn't have time to worry about them. Your mission now was to keep the 141 safe. You fished out a folding knife from under your boot and swung your leg to the side as a Shadow rushed past. He fell with a thud and you plunged the blade on his neck and pulled, ripping it open.

You flinched as you heard a loud grunt. Ahead of you, Soap fell on his back, blood gushing out of his bicep.

“Fuck, fuck,” you chanted under your breath and you noticed the lieutenant dropping down on his knees.

“Soap, get out of here!” Ghost yelled from under the car.

“I’m not—”

“Just go!” You yelled over the Sergeant and breathed out as you heard his grunts and footsteps moving.

“Get him!” A Shadow demanded and you threw your resort of weapon at him, perfectly piercing through his neck.

“Ghost.” You crawled towards him. “Go, I'll distract them.”

“That's dangerous,” he glowered at you.

“Not more than me,” you pulled out the phone you got from one of Valeria’s men and stashed it under his vest. “Go.”

He nodded and patted your head. “Be safe.”

You rolled out from under the car.

“Get the woman! Shepherd needs her back!”

You sighed in relief, snatching a gun from the Shadow Ghost had taken down. Now, you can act freely as you can.

You grinned and shot up to your feet. “And you shall know why Shepherd needs me.”

But before you could fire, smoke veiled your surroundings and pained shouts echoed ahead of you. You squinted to make out what was happening.

At that moment, from the cover of darkness and the shroud of fumes, a man with a gaze as cold and piercing as a blade emerged. Like a breeze, he swept you off your feet fleeing from the scene, and as rare as the rain in a drought, he graced you with a voice you would quaff down like a man starved.

“Not more than I need you.”

Like how a single flower in the desert sought a droplet of water.

As though the heavens were crying on your behalf from the wheels of emotions you had felt tonight, rain poured down stridently, and akin to drowning, you choked out his name.

“Keegan.”

The one and only, Keegan P. Russ is on the stage! Now we only wait for our king. Also, we will be adding Price on the boat based on the votes on the prev. chap.

Next Chapter / Archive of Our Own

Taglist: @yyiikes , @the-faceless-bride , @cassiecasluciluce , @annoyingstrawberryballoon @unicorngirly1, @thriving-n-jiving, @squidalapobre, @tallicaside @eustassh

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aurore-parle-de-ses-idees · 2 months ago

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7 with est 👀👀👀

7- hoarse/voiceless

this is absolutely au for est, because there are quite a few major beats in waves & wind that wouldn't really land right after all the au-ing i did four or five years ago. however. i wanted to put est on a boat <3 rough ch 5.3 for spoiler purposes

It’s a little funny, you think, that you’ve never really sailed. Not properly, not like this, not on the open sea where there’s no horizon in any direction and the water is even more unchanging than the open fields of Rohan. The Long Lake is wide and so is Nenuial, but they have nothing on these endless waters- and Sirgon and Daxamat both laugh when they tell you you’ve not yet left the Bay of Belfalas.

You know the storm is coming even belowdecks. It’s no sense so arcane as some of your crew seem to think- only long years spent studying the rising and release of thunder. You warn the others, and hope you don’t frighten Caebar too badly, and go up to the deck.

Dark clouds gather in the distance, visible from miles away with nothing at all to hide them- or to break them. You clamber up into the tangle of low-hanging rigging in the forecastle where Daxamat scowls at the oncoming storm.

“I swear the storms did not used to be so frequent or so angry in the Bay,” he says, and you grip the nearest lines for balance as the Wave-hunter tilts down a steep swell. The waves are already growing rougher.

“Is there no avoiding this one?” you ask, though you have no hope the answer will be yes. Daxamat gives you a disbelieving look.

“Not unless your fancy rocks can split the storm before us,” he says and you smile with half your mouth.

“You overestimate me,” you say, and he sighs.

“I was afraid that was the case.”

You study the angry stormfront. “...is there anything we can do to prepare for it?” You know the storm, but not the sea.

“Tie down anything that can be tied,” Daxamat says with a grim laugh. “Stay out of the way of actual sailors. And… make sure your knights are out of their armor. They wouldn’t want to go overboard like that.” You glance at him sharply.

“You think that’s so serious a risk?” Dax only shrugs, half leaping and half falling from the rail to the pitching deck.

“The way my last voyage ended? It seems better to be cautious in these waters these days.”

You wish, an hour later, that you could indeed control storms as Daxamat said, but you only ever borrow their power for a moment. There is power enough in this one to tear the ship apart.

No one is abovedecks who does not need to be- especially those of you who aren’t sailors. Sirgon listens to the groaning of the Wave-hunter and frowns over the nervous muttering of the rest of your crew, packed into the largest cabin and summarily instructed to stay there until the storm passed.

“We are far too near the Shield Isles for my liking to cross a storm this fierce,” Sirgon says to you under his breath. “We are on the side of the Grinding Jaws, and they were not named lightly.”

The Wave-hunter pitches to the side and even Sirgon staggers. Daxamat has already gone up to the deck to help, taking Sigileth and Legolas with him. You wonder how long it will be before you and the sons of Elrond will be asked to follow. You flex your hands, cold from the damp and the biting winds, and tighten the bindings on your rune-bag and Elenagil in her sheath.

The Wave-hunter shudders under your feet. Sirgon draws a sharp breath. There are cries from above. You're only halfway to the narrow stairs up when the deck goes out from underneath you and wood splinters with a sound only a little softer than thunder.

The water is cold and dark and churns so badly you couldn’t say if it was stone or ship or scattered crew that slams into you from all directions. You’re not a stranger to the water, but you've not seen anything quite like this before.

Well. You’re hardly seeing anything right now, either.

Lightning illuminates the water, brief but bright enough to find the surface. You reach for it, clawing your way skyward while thunder rumbles the water around you like a drum.

Something heavy strikes you across the back. Something cracks; you can’t tell if it’s you or the unseen thing. You lose your air, and you breathe in seawater, and you grab fruitlessly for something solid and choke on the wrathful bay until the waters take you away.

---

It’s dawn when you wake, pink in the sky and gold in the sand and black and brown and brilliant green in the cliffs above you. Your legs are still in the water, brushed by waves that seem gentle in apology for the storm before. You push yourself up, and your back screams as if struck anew, and you fall flat in the sand with a groan.

What became of the rest of the Wave-hunter? you ask silently of the sand beneath your cheek. It doesn’t reply, and you spit some of it from your mouth and drag yourself inch by inch beyond the reach of the water. You lost a shoe somewhere- only the one, though. Your throat hurts. Slowly, you gather yourself, and hope that walking will seem like less of a trial once you are standing.

A shadow falls over you. Someone speaks, and it sounds like Black Speech, and in sudden panic you throw yourself to your feet, already reaching for where your rune-bag should be.

Somehow, it’s still there, though it’s full of water and some of its contents must have escaped. You draw out a stone, but instead of words of power you only get out a harsh fit of coughing as your throat protests absolutely everything it can think of. When you can breathe again you throw the stone aside and draw Elenagil instead, falteringly taking the stance Faeron had tried so hard to teach you.

It is a group of goblins and orcs who scramble away from you, weapons raised and eyes hard, but they don’t fall on you immediately, even when you wobble and fall back to one knee. One of them elbows another and they argue in almost-whispers among themselves. Your head aches less badly than the rest of you and you think you can follow most of it. Some words are Westron and some are the Black Speech and some are another tongue altogether. Umbari, perhaps? You don’t know much of it yet. You catch wait and recognize and Gundabad, and after that trust and safe and can’t let her-. You try to speak, and cough some more, and, eventually, lower Elenagil.

“Who are you?” you ask, hoarsely, in Black Speech like you only really practiced properly with Viznak in the swamps. You’re not sure which of them is more surprised to hear it.

#lotro #ask games #my stories #est #spoilers of umbar #she's gonna have a great time hanging out at kafagur

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missmagooglie · 1 year ago

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For the WIP Wednesday game, @infinitybits87 and @h-i-raeth requested a Therapy Baby snippet, so have some "Buck defending his poor life choices" paired with some "Firefam defending Buck"

“Buck as a father, I never thought I’d see the day,” Chim grins at him. “Though in hindsight, maybe we should have seen this coming. Which of your sexcapades resulted in this little bundle of joy? Did his mom have to reach out to you on Tinder?” “Oh, please tell me this child was not conceived in the rig,” Hen begs. “Was it snake girl?” Chimney asks. “I need to know if we have to prepare for a hereditary love of reptiles.” Buck laughs awkwardly. “No, she wasn’t anyone I met while I was on duty,” he says, trying to ignore the way Bobby looks skyward and mouths the words thank you. “It was, um. Do you guys remember when I was having a hard time after that roller coaster rescue that went bad?” “Of course,” Bobby says. “It was your first time losing someone on the job. You took it hard.” “Right, yeah, and you suggested I see someone for counseling,” Buck says. “So I went to her office, and it turns out she’d seen me on the news, and, um, I guess you could say we tried some non-traditional treatments?” He braces himself for laughter and teasing, but instead the room goes quiet. “Buck, are you telling us that Danny’s mother was your therapist?” Bobby asks, his face pinched. “It was only one session,” Buck says, his body curling defensively around the baby in his arms. He suddenly recalls the visceral hatred and disgust that came off Dr. Wells’ husband the day he had picked Danny up. The pure disgust he’d shown when he learned that Buck had been a patient of his wife’s, “and we didn’t exactly do a lot of therapy. It’s not like I was a regular patient of hers.” “That doesn’t make it ok,” Hen says softly. She says it in the voice she uses to reassure victims in the field, and Buck has no idea why she’s using it now. “Look, I get that it wasn’t the classiest thing I’ve ever done," Buck says in an effort to downplay the whole thing, "but it’s not like we did something illegal." “At the very least it’s sexual misconduct,” Athena chimes in, and her voice is serious, too. “Depending on the circumstances, it could even be considered rape.” “Woah,” Buck says, stepping back in alarm. “Hey, no, it was very much consensual. I would never-” Buck looks around and catches Bobby’s eyes. “Bobby, I swear,” he pleads, “I know I did a lot of stupid shit, but I never did anything that the other person wasn’t completely on board with. I would never try to take advantage of-” “No one is accusing you, Buck,” Bobby assures him. “You would have been the victim. If your therapist slept with you, then as the patient you’re the one who was assaulted.” Buck snorts at the wild absurdity of that statement. “I think I’d know if I had been assaulted.” “If she violated her duty of care -” Bobby starts to say. Buck shakes his head. “It wasn’t like that,” he insists. “I flirted, she flirted, and one thing led to another. That’s all.” “Ok, let’s all maybe take a breath,” Eddie says, stepping in and stationing himself between Buck and the frowning faces all around him. “This is a baby shower, not an inquisition. Let’s just eat some cake and tease Buck about his very pretty baby sling.” He plucks at the floral fabric wrapped around Buck’s chest – which Buck got for free on facebook marketplace, thank you very much – and gives him a reassuring smile. The rest of the crew chuckles lightly and are willing enough to move on to other topics of conversation - though not without some pointedly concerned glances at Buck - as the stork cake is cut and served. “I’m stealing your kid,” Eddie says, plucking Danny out of his arms as soon as everyone’s attention has been successfully redirected. “Go talk to Bobby.”

#Fic: Therapy Baby #evan buck buckely #eddie diaz #buddie #911onfox #911 abc #911 fanfic #therapy baby #how do i fanfiction?

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not-freyja · 1 year ago

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The giant octorok-arm-like appendage swings down, heading for the deck of the ship. Hyrule can’t get out of the way fast enough, can’t trust his dodges on such unsteady ground.

He doesn’t have many other options, though.

A sudden flash of magic tears through the air, and a form made of nothing but light arcs over his head, cutting the appendage in half. A shriek tears through the air, and Hyrule grips the railing tighter as he looks for the source.

Sky has abandoned the rigging, and stands as a posed figure at Wind’s side. The sword in his right hand glows softly with nearly white blue power, the same as the energy beam that missed Hyrule by a hair. His face, normally so open and kind, usually bearing a smile and a soft look, is set in a hard glare.

There is death in Sky’s eyes, as the other tentacles come flying out of the sea. The knight doesn’t scream, doesn’t rage. He just raises his sword skyward and brings it back down. Another flash of light explodes outward, slicing through yet one more appendage.

#freyja writes fic #this is an adjuration #fic update #lu hyrule #lu sky #lu wind #boss fight theme music starts

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ashesoriley · 1 year ago

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Skyward headcanons

Rig definitely grows his hair after becoming an engineer. Once he gets it long enough to wear it in a ponytail Spenca starts to steal his hair ties. He eventually just kinda leaves them around for her to steal

Once Ned finds out about this he steals all of arteros and gives them to her. Jorgan keeps a few on his wrist for her because he's a good boyfriend

They all will sometimes do sleepovers. When they did at Jorgans place it's not planned and they have to borrow his PJs. After which they keep them and when he confronts them they all claim they've had them forever jorgan what are you talking about. He then turns to Alanik and she with a straight face says "I brought these over from my planet jorgan". Everyone loses their mind

#skyward #defiant #brandon sanderson

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hauntedfarfalle · 11 months ago

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Assorted Evershore memes bc there were many iconic moments

#skyward flight #skyward flight spoilers #evershore #evershore spoilers #Jorgen weight #gran-gran #rig skyward #brandon sanderson

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rotschopf-thedrow · 9 months ago

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Get to know your Mutuals

Rules: Tag 10 or more people you want to get to know better.

Got tagged by @dandenbo <3 Thank you!

Fave Ships: in no specific order - mShenko, Venko, Alenkoats, Kaidan & Jack, mShep/Vega, Cortega, mHawke/Fenris, Scott Ryder/Reyes Vidal; FM/Rig (Skyward series)

Favourite colour: any shade of blue

Song stuck in my head:

Favourite food: changes on a regular basis; currently, I'd say Indian food in general.

Last song listened to:

Last TV show/movie: Golden Girls

Spicy/sweet/savory?: All of it. Depends on my mood :)

Currently reading: ReDawn by Brandon Sanderson; Mezzo by the amazing @swaps55; re-reading First, Last, Only by the amazing @cr-noble-writes (thank you for this amazing gift <3)

Last thing I googled: eh, I have no idea. I think it was the opening hours of Burger King in Cham, but I'm not sure.

The no pressure tag: @clericofshadows, @otemporanerys, @waidwn, @lonesurvivorao3; @valka-arialitan, @mallaidhsomo, @mtreebeardiles, @biotickaidan, @she-doesnt-have-the-range, @stormikins

#get to know your mutuals #ask game #rotschopf answers

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might-be-a-lynx · 1 year ago

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Tattoo for the WIP ask game 👀

So the fic idea (which, surprise, is Cobb heavy) is that Skyward Flight is going to get a tattoo to represent their cadet class. Here's the snippet:

“Hey Cobb,” Nedd asked.

“What, boy? I'm busy.”

“Would you like to get the tattoo?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. I just figured your name was going to be on it and I thought it would be good to extend the offer, like we did with Rig.”

Cobb looked at them all for a long moment. “I'll put that under consideration.”

Which was basically saying he wouldn't. Cobb turned and finally left.

So spoiler alert: Cobb gets the tattoo. And he has a *lot* of tattoos which I get into in the fic. It's Cobb so, expect some sads thrown in with his gruff, tatted up exterior.

#ask game #ask meme #ask answered #writing wip #my fanfic stuff #cytoverse #skyward flight #skyward #cobb #Matthew Cobb

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dracaryse · 3 months ago

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⚜ ∗ 𝔭𝔩𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔯 for @crownprinceling

─── GREAT CLOUDS OF BLACK SMOKE swelled in the open coastal air, rising from an amassed collection of burning ships in the form of dark, swirling pillars that punctuated the salty air with notes of ash and char. The destruction was the unmistakable result of dragonfire. Nothing else could come close to the sheer devastation that it could leave in its wake, and as far as most knew, nothing could contest its wrath…

IT WAS VERMAX’S FIRST TIME ON a battlefield, and while untested and inexperienced, the young dragon and the prince upon his back had more than proven their worth as they’d burned down ship after ship. Each one that met the pair’s fury had imploded upon impact, flimsy wooden boards buckling beneath the force of a bright orange inferno until it was naught but flotsam and wreckage upon the waves of a blood-soaked sea.

WITH THREE OTHER DRAGONS CIRCLING above and laying waste to their enemies as well, it seemed as though victory was near at hand, and it might have been, if not for the bolt that had suddenly found itself lodged within the dragon’s neck. A loud screech was torn out from Vermax’s chest upon impact, his head shaking violently as his stability wavered and sent him plunging towards the sea in a frantic tailspin. Before the dragon could even have the chance to right himself in the air, he was met with the icy grip of seawater, the great heft of his viridian body hitting the surface so hard that it sent waves crashing out in every direction, leaving every ship in the near vicinity rocking in their wake.

WITH EFFORTS THAT WERE NOTHING less than distraught, the dragon had tried to propel himself skyward once more, but with his left wing tangled in the rigging of a burning galley, he could do little more than fight to stay afloat as the sinking wreckage threatened to pull both himself and Jacaerys beneath the surface. All the while, a furious barrage of arrows was descending upon them, and despite the looming threat of drowning, Vermax had used his wing to shield his rider from the would-be piercing of their wrath, each one leaving tears and holes in the beautiful orange membranes until they were tattered and bloody.

AND THEN THE SEA TOOK THEM.

#⚜ ∗ bond ⸻ vermax & jacaerys #crownprinceling #⚜ ∗ replies ⸻ vermax #enjoy my one (1) icon of vermax because all the writers wanted to give us this season was the back of my boy's frickin head >:(

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alasse-earfalas · 1 year ago

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The entire reason I finally broke down and watched a no-commentary playthrough of Skyward Sword was exactly this. I physically cannot play the game on the Wii, and the only reason I can play it at all on the Switch is not because of the button mode (because the left bumper—which you need to keep held whenever you want to turn the camera—is the hardest button for me to physically reach), but because I jerry-rigged a setup with some knock-off joycons to kinda sorta let me play in motion-control mode. But it's still extremely difficult for me to play this way! I almost died to an OCTOROCK because I had so much trouble physically executing a shield bash!

This is why being able to remap controls in games is sooooooo important. Sadly, I don't have that option on my Switch because I bought joycons that won't drift over time and are more comfortable to hold. [grumble grumble]

The physical difficulty I have in playing Skyward Sword is why I have such a hard time convincing myself to pick up that game at all. Which is so sad, because if it weren't for this difficulty, Skyward Sword would probably be one of my favorite video games. I love the world! I love the characters! I love the entire aesthetic! But I cannot fetching play the game without wrestling with a physical disability that already limits me enough in my everyday life, so I'd like to maybe get away from that limitation for a while, thanks??

I have to wonder how many people feel threatened by lowering the difficulty in video games for other people. I've seen this attitude a lot and it really confuses me. Why do you care if a disabled person (or anyone for that matter) gets to enjoy the game in a way that you wouldn't? Why is that your problem? Why do you view that as "cheating"?

Not having different difficulties or certain accommodations in multiplayer games I completely understand because that affects everyone playing, but singleplayer? Changing a singleplayer game to be more accessible / easier only affects that player, yet a lot of people act like it's damaging to the whole freaking community. Me activating god mode doesn't invalidate your epic no-damage run through ultra-hard difficulty. That's still a massive achievement! Something I'll never be able to do! They're two different ways to enjoy the game; can't they coexist?

all video games should have a “I’m shit at video games but I’m curious about the story and I don’t want to watch a let’s play” mode

#disability #video games #alassë rambles

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libidomechanica · 8 months ago

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Her smell, I am, the hill

A tanka sequence

Take all fling the ribbon of our green she lonely shine, you didst may take breath, but when I feel within. Her smell, I am, the hill.

The ware; the spread with fare love’s e’e, and love’s true images of straight my fire of mine! Charlie, he’s to passing wither Lippo’s down!

Look at his neuer wrongs; I say, spite the paired within. For, dear the chance of my darling, that once possess’d, wett, and the strive a name?

Skyward make rules, our captain mouth, I wound her loosely friends the to while by a man who has noise. Which sence that in my desires.

From heat, to watching wound as sowed! Place, huge aquiline own whether apt word for our badly spire, but evening like the who frown out.

While about my still sorts of sommer to the dwarf. It may thy beauties the wonder you saw your less fair length his iron to kiss.

Mine eyes are to over my child wine-red were she rough my Sire, nor now, I the other dying, try my she yill. And lessed.

Tasting novel, a heaven, let our stroke, that make a vision? In smile after the past, tasting’s rites in shadows!—No,—she has beer.

You have done he rest, since. And you want of thine for one like ice not parle: and me willing down they what, I whilst thou, for us.

The narrative burnt& blaste. Which I whether more watching to their care: and those to see you renowne, and many sorts me daught cut stay!

Not love, and verse shades of the tall see now show; all is streaming, the looked on the king, turn, is haunch. In that our hands to span; have leave!

My tone with vulgar branch—and she, some with that blows thicker that know exactly be. Adieu; since more blessing, then language applyed.

And rope thou first may never see my Lady’s heave her makes meanings in sackcloth the Hunter’s breathe? For feast with rain the for us.

Clenched the laugh, no fear and waterfall. Then your Prince Faire is a woman, for with stars to love us pride world I rove, and Fort Knox.

The eyes match a good. Never lids his why not say pray in this? He was your even them that heart of strings, be seen the sucks front back.

Love’s foam and fire but them but a sent musick with a kitches I touch the press? Look you, gall—to stirred answers and shall not a tomb.

Whose spins beggar and head on low to love or drops from thy works overhead. That are sleepe, there with his byre; too long, and blind, how good!

Simple was a pure cup of rich owes then, last vow and smoke go up the next. Her far peace, with wonder which it showed with the the Past.

And to the general foe. The sprited at they story and a bunch of blizzard a sweet Bacchus’ pards— and her was blow, the warriors!

Hand a sad and leap thy choose may be done—we ply the strange busily set for she knight in woman no way be not? But suffice.

Thanked but each forever the door open do still, now! Inside the main, when I receiving had form of a wall, am Master.

Mischief so you: when all sweetly saint apace, and so sweet inflames account it cried My Love’s ghostlike, spark. I in no advantage!

Not till air is I was his velvet child and less I was no displaies. I know, I prefer, staying faire is in my eyes were strange.

The transmit a story I am happy might and whifts and stand, praise than his knee—like missed us coffee, dear. A wound as still.

When and that smote and if the least deeply kneele hill. Fire womanhood, walking-maid, from her eyes the lawn into the high, sdeath indue.

He roses sever. Night, crawled boat where Time, till we seene, or wrough,—an�� Charlie,& c. Aye, almost blue yonderous career honour bier.

Come, that I went us not answer, seeing eyes. The dwarf came rigs o’ the flesh air. That flower it bells, and thus man-girdled loved.

Blue Your bier. All the thine from the edge by sommer sighed woods daily at midst implore that kydst tell, but eve on all them to decay.

Or she asked: Spindled toes all. At the singly flower as hers, half-shrouded over set, and none heat; a most joyfull Colin ranne.

I have lives it will sort of the bade me necessions forgot. Can seruants are only’ s a small roam the world’s now among blind.

But cease there I would. That I speak our cupped the hunger make fair she give missed, upon the moon, fair and go with moonlight whose stay.

I said: I love which your memory be, my heaving moon-flowers letched in some stained. Take to leaded Eagles yelp alone lass.

What this the frequent that doth fallen not die like a March and moonlight my son! Let the street, because have I night by night, that come.

So wet filled, so faire: some relief, the leave spongy dawnest own, that thou art! Suppose throne once possibility oft will requite?

The Prior’s night I write! The fire, is be some slime, that have lets the poorly- mountains by the gas floated space, but against all out!

Moves in she’d suspected sure take. There missed, upon thee most she caughter rolled these amber in that fears not less charming daffodils.

Once than retreating a god Love’s defiled. And black rocks. And lovers fell done way? But, ah, my own life and night on a Minion!

I know not seem fills not to thee, like a dryad. With which up fine sought seemed I of the full; but shade my wintry should soon thee. The frame.

Each his which more—thou shall stirrups. Too soppings, up she stretch thou fill, invent’s took, he sport, and love is scythe, or than tell that recall?

The days dragg’d down the banners, and love. Other one unworthily; takes them talked at it is good cause art made long and thou’ free day.

Mark where broke then they triumphants. When the ocean who is a doubts hour, than retrospered an acting the sweat: it is, you see, knows!

From my Hand, and ratherly fear, we rode and head, and where harmony. Wisdom. The root, and seemed titter the whom shape with the cates.

Boys! For her and faire bore a pure as the power in which only is sore so shell with naked I of drugs, as oak leave: but toys.

And sang, in pearl. Discontent, that each other in Moor-fields, or air The will song as drowsy nook remov’d; however, all the bay.

Earth and push on, to fight, the man not endurance. For, dear, was maiden virtues feet, a grey church knowled at there shall not long way.

The herds and strange my lips with the gave him compare frequests, his service, but, God to conflict within? Did your mind and think you say.

Of loves; say that flow in vain: and, with its priestess, pale, weave the will spring daffodils. Till stand, Princed at have lieth, soon dead, founde?

Not you the leave once forevered to fly from Beauty as you could bad! This sisters oh, you weary night, when to her, Have three.

Continue pure fools of a sent any beets that other’s art. Like and makes us moment; she lov’d thy pyramidst my feet friend.

My Lady’s right had labor of threated space, undulated free of hemline. Soules are some ware; they like loved forest’s hands again.

A living kiss and lift ear with, in chapter of song on a times a to-day. Bear with thy vertuous ynne doth intense it is lass.

But in her listen’d! Foursquare tutors, great ring, the horror of any of a sunrise how vertue be where: adieu; singing he hair!

And came: a brute where you weren’t watching each may yet some did see no such too that home nearer. I will; but even in requite?

Of her narrative by you’re half as goblins in anger fade, die to itself round, when gone, that thee! They hae wooden anxious care.

The midmost exquisitely sheer death most sane and, with the sky and breast. Take is golden light; slowly, silly may forsooth! To be!

Was love is best wonder the winter’s cased; he dew! The rush, but if ever call make life bene gate as a tunnel of lute.

Those night and not deserve of court even throat. Of which the most doubly set, all come, my bliss, and joinèd handsomeness to Beautie bend?

How say praised hen by Dame Part sate without the dreamful with the born, therefore you at all his pistol but a tears of spike? A tree.

Who can to be ruine style men’s head likeliest of they deaf that! I things; then my adventure is a precedent the leave the sea.

Spirit thy friendly took pity and after fairer chairs bid comes to make me a man! Tree and unmistakable the totem.

Are breed that from limitless, no sleepe, adieu; since, the sea as mere chariot and mans mark? Of this window, puts of sea on me.

A flower in a fat farewell; for the soul! Not Juliana’s scorne away. And dead. About to know pale is of the skeleton.

Garden is head to her finger than want place a grapes the Florentines, closes unto the bell? Be the fire, how pale of men.

Eye-iudgement in these look for he wandring most, but come doe compare, til she agreed. You art, I follow good, lilies and breast!

Stake, but aye my ear, if I be dear: but love I horse! But combat Like a sturdy still of either slumbers, where are seldom seen.

Home their maid who had sense! Sweet as I plot to seeking like the springe, for the garden came will side, we Carmelites, lace whole day.

Bursting wavered like a parison: My greeting the secreature take it like pother’s is my chief that rings shed. As thou with him?

By the old kings be in the river, that laught fools prophet, fools enjoys for a tree. The monk, the brute I not thy Heart’s evident.

I deemed and clashed as if though we delude their own where keen among. Ere I sat in my collect, as if she wild: farewell. Is one.

” Strive, and name daur name. Needs than slept on my fathers heritage; then this bare fro shall her is thy charm— she stood mother’s about there.

False for the love, weaves your faces me alone is not him—Hystering and means blind: I shout all mind at recite. As they can’t it.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #164 texts #tanka sequence

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