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alotofpockets · 2 months

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Beat of my heart | Reneé Rapp x Reader

Where Reneé falls in love with her drummer and childhood friend.

Reneé Rapp Masterlist | Words: 1k

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If there was one take away from the Snow Hard Feelings tour for Alyah so far, it was that Reneé and y/n would make a great couple. She knew about her best friend's crush on you, but now after spending so much time with both you and Reneé, she could see that the feelings were mutual. Yet, neither one of you seemed like you were going to make a move any time soon.

Reneé was one of your childhood friends, you both went into the music industry, and you even wrote some music with her over the years. So, it was a no-brainer that when Reneé went on tour, you'd be her drummer.

Going on tour, and spending so much time with Reneé only made your feelings towards her grow. Exploring the cities in the day, performing in the evening, and travelling at night. You did it all together.

After another successful show you find yourself back in the tour bus with Reneé and Alyah. “Who’s up for another movie night?” Reneé asked, it had become one of her favourite ways to relax after a show. The three of you squeezed into Reneé’s bunk together, and put up a movie on the small screen. You hadn't realised how tired you were until you were about twenty minutes into the movie, and were struggling to keep your eyes open.

Reneé’s heart skipped a beat the moment your head fell against her arm, she tensed for a moment, but relaxed when she saw how peaceful you looked. Alyah watched the moment with a knowing smile.

Not even ten minutes later, Alyah looked over and saw that Reneé had fallen asleep as well. She snapped a quick picture, before she carefully got out of the bunk and headed to her own.

You wake by the loud sound of the end credits, and are a little disorientated. When you feel someone move besides you, you realise what happened. “Oh sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep on you. I should head to my own bunk.” Your slightly groggy voice melts Reneé's heart. “Oh no baby, you're good. I was pretty comfortable actually. Wanna scoot down and get some more sleep?” You're too tired to even hesitate about her offer, and scoot down in the bunk bed. Reneé puts the covers over the both of you.

Reneé laid down beside you. Your heart was beating out of your chest, at how close your faces were together. For a moment, all that the two of you do is stare at each other. You were studying every part of her face, the light freckles on her nose, the way her bangs fell over her face, her slightly parted lips, and her piercing blue eyes looking back at you. “You are so beautiful.” Your words are spoken softly, like they would disappear with the slightest gust of wind.

Reneé’s smile grows, “Thank you baby, so are you.” She reaches out her hand and starts running her hand through your hair, moving her face a little closer with every movement. Your hand finds her side, where you let it rest. When Reneé didn’t see any form of hesitation from you, she closed the distance between you. Her soft lips were moving in a slow rhythm with yours.

Kissing Reneé was both the scariest and most comforting thing at the same time. The softness in her eyes when she pulled away from the kiss, nearly melted your heart. “I've been wanting to do that for so long.” The blonde confessed. Your smile grows wide, “Me too.” Reneé lays down on her back, and pulls you into her side. “Come on, let's get some rest. Big day tomorrow.” You hum, and get comfortable. “Goodnight Nae.” The blonde kisses your forehead, “Goodnight baby.” It was a good thing you were already hiding your face into her chest, otherwise she would have seen you turn bright red.

The next morning when Alyah wakes up, the first thing she does is check your bunk, which she finds abandoned just like last night. She gets excited about even the thought of the two of you sleeping in Reneé’s bunk, which would at least mean a step closer to the two of you realising your feelings for each other. When she stepped closer she heard the two of you giggling, and without knowing what happened last night, she just knew that something had.

“Morning yaya.” Reneé greets her best friend as she heads into the seating area of the tour bus. “Oh yeah I bet it is.” With a knowing smirk Alyah looks up at her, finding a blushing Reneé looking back at her. “Spill.” Reneé slid into the seat beside her, “We kissed, and then cuddled, that’s it. It was amazing though, and I was kind of wanting to ask her out for breakfast, but I wanted to pass it by you first, since I don’t want to leave you out.” Alyah laughs, “Are you kidding me? I’ve been pushing you to ask her out for months! Yes, you go, and you go ask her right now.” Alyah was basically pushing Reneé your way in excitement.

“Would you like to go out for breakfast?” Reneé asked shyly. “Only if it’s a date.” You counter, making the blonde’s nerves fade instantly. “Definitely as a date.” Without hesitation, Reneé grabbed your hand and led you out of the tour bus, having arrived in a new city overnight.

After breakfast you walked around a bit before you had to head back to the venue for sound check. During the sound check you and Reneé were constantly goofing around, much to the enjoyment of Alyah and the rest of the band. Alyah filmed and photographed a lot of the tour, besides the crew who would capture everything in high resolution, the more retro shots that Alyah took were loved by Reneé.

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alyahcs just posted to their story

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#renee rapp #renee rapp x reader #renee rapp x you #renee rapp x y/n #reneé rapp x reader #alyah chanelle scott #renee rapp imagine #renee rapp fluff

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inkwolvesandcoffee · 1 month

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TF141 Meeting Soap’s Little Sister (a.k.a. You)

CoD ML

The task force didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this. They already have to deal with Soap’s husky antics, which can already be too much to handle. Multiply that by two and no one, especially Simon, wants to deal with that.

But they certainly wouldn’t mind the company of the woman in the doorway.

Why on earth didn’t Soap warn them?

For John, it’s the sweater paws. For a second they make him selfishly want to dress you in one of his sweaters.

For Simon, it’s the way you shyly hide behind your brother, a habit you still have at your big age. Normally he loathes shows of fragility, but yours is endearing to him. For the first time in a very long while, it kindles something in him.

For Kyle, it’s your eyes. He simply can’t look away even though he’s aware it makes you uncomfortable.

“Lads, meet my sister, Y/N.” The adoration Soap has for you is plain to see in the gentle smile that plays out on his lips, proud to be your brother and amused you’ve barely changed from your younger days. Why else would you look at him, lowkey terrified of the strangers he’s brought into your home. “It’s awright, hen. They’re good men, even the big bawbag with the skull mask. Go oan an’ introduce yerself.”

Clutching your brother’s sleeve, relieved he’s home and glad for his protection, you introduce yourself. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

And in that moment, without so much as trying, you have your brother’s unit wrapped around your finger.

So much so that Simon removes his balaclava before he even crosses the threshold. Unbeknownst to you, it’s extremely rare to see the man without his mask and always leads to the unit members exchanging surprised glances.

“What’s this, LT?” your brother asks, badly faking disbelief.

“Proper etiquette. Plus, I can’t eat with the thing on.”

“Oh, so you do eat. I thought ghosts didn’t have ta.”

“Johnny…”

“Just messing with ye, Ghost.”

“Ghost?” you ask.

“It’s my callsign, miss. I- I mean, Y/N.” He keeps his distance, but tries to make himself as small as possible to seem less intimidating. “We ain’t on duty now, so’s just Simon.”

“I see.”

Throughout the night, your brother’s comrades try to win your favour. Kyle offers to help set the table, teaming up with John who beats him to it by lifting the stack of plates in your hands. “Can’t have the lady of the house do everything, can we?”

“But-“

“Please, Y/N, allow me.” His features soften, though there’s a strange glint in his eyes you can’t name. Nevertheless, it sharpens further into sterness as John turns around and starts speaking like you’d imagine he does out in the field. “Gaz, get over here. We have to help our hostess out.”

“You… you really don’t…”

“It’s the least we can do,” Kyle reassures you, shown up at your side at the first word of the captain. “We’ll try to do it neatly.”

“Oi, Gaz, stop being cheeky and get moving.”

“Yes, sir.” Kyle sighs. “He makes it sound like we’re on a battlefield. Fortunately, this is less severe, innit?”

“It might be if there aren’t glasses between now and ten seconds,” John mutters, circling around you two to put the last plates down and move on to cutlery.

“Ever the perfectionist. Where do you keep them?” Kyle asks.

You point at a cupboard. “Right there.”

“Okay. Y/N, we’ll do a proper job. Promise.” And with that, he’s off to help set the table.

While cooking, you observe Simon dawdling around the kitchen. Or, rather, as you discover when you lift your head to check what’s going on, he’s forced to thanks to Johnny.

“Och, just offer yer help. Ah dinnae ken, chop some veggies. Also, she’s into video games- Y/N!” Johnny slaps Simon on the shoulder, feigning ignorance. “Can this wee bawbag help ye with anything?”

“Stop calling me that,” Simon grumbles through gritted teeth.

“Do you cook?”

“He-“ Soap opens his mouth to answer for his friend yet finds himself cut short.

“Haud yer wheest, John. I was nae asking you, I was asking Simon.” Holding out your spatula as a threat to your brother, you turn to the gentle giant.

Simon looks at you through his lashes, but quickly averts his gaze when your eyes meet. “I dabble. Try to put proper grub on the table sometimes.”

“Help me do the same?”

“Uh… sure.”

“Lovely!”

“Have fun, LT.” Johnny offers you both a cheeky grin, then turns on his heel to return to the others.

And so Simon finds himself cooking alongside you. Truth be told, you partially did it to save him from his brothers in arms. Regardless of how well he knows them and the amount of time he’s spent with them, their extroverted personalities still wear him out. His silence is telling, different from the intimidating version he dropped the moment you opened the door. You’ve seen how his eyes glaze over, occupied with dreams you can only guess at. Occasionally he’ll nod and make a noise to make the others think he’s listening.

Nevertheless, it’s still surprising Simon tries to start a conversation.

A conversation that goes in all sorts of, mostly nerdy, directions. So soon you find yourself listening to elaborate explanations of the lore of various FromSoftware games, a topic Simon passionately enlightens you on.

He stops mid-sentence when you chuckle. “What?”

“You have a nice voice.”

“Oh… uh… thanks.”

“Jesus, Y/N, you’re some kind of miracle worker.” Gaz walks into the kitchen to grab another beer from the fridge. “How’d you get Ghost to talk?”

Simon glowers at his companion, but stands down when you gesture for him to remain calm. “Sometimes you simply need the right person, a genuine heart that listens. Now, boys, let’s eat.”

“Food?” Johnny calls from the couch.

“My days, what are ye? A husky?” you call, only partially truly annoyed.

Dinner is an amiable affair. The men (yes, even Soap) censor themselves, finding it inappropriate to start effin and blindin in your company. All the same, they include you in the conversation however possible and fall silent when they notice you want to chime in. Unbeknownst to you all, Johnny is especially vigilant none of the other men makes an advance towards you. Sure, you’re a grown woman. Nonetheless, to him, you’ll always be the wee bairn he held as a four-year-old boy, the barely grown girl who couldn’t stop crying when he was deployed for the first time.

You’re his little sister, the only girl he’d gift the moon if he could.

That being said, though, should you end up with any member of the unit, he dearly hopes it’s Simon. So it’s actually quite reassuring for him to see you two get along as well as you do.

“Two peas in a pod,” Soap mumbles, the words muffled by beer and the clinking of cutlery.

The lads gesture for you to remain seated while they clear the table and do the dishes.

“‘S alright, Y/N. Leave it to us,” John says when you try to get up from your chair.

“You really don’t-“

“No, no. Please.” The bear-like hand on your shoulder is gentle though strong, persuasive in its conviction for you to remain seated. “A small favour, really, to repay your kindness.”

The table cleared, John and Simon excuse themselves for a quick smoke. In the meanwhile, Johnny and Kyle wash the dishes.

For dessert, you sit the men down with coffee and tea to enjoy with a scone.

Kyle falls a little more for you when you show you’re full of contrasts. Shy on the surface yet so fierce when defying your brother. “I was doing fine, crocheting my time away without puppy antics.”

“I’m nae like a dog.” Your brother stops mid-bite to protest.

“Johnny, yer a bloody husky.”

“Well, at least I’m one that did nae get shot.”

“Oh, haud yer wheesht, like you ever will. Just enjoy yer scone and tea. Wait!” You hasten to the fridge to retrieve a jar of orange marmelade. “Here, have this.”

“Homemade?”

“‘Course. It’s not like I’ve forgotten how you dislike store bought.”

“Thanks, sis.”

“Thank you for coming back in one piece, bro.” You turn to the men, who all sit up, alert. “And thank you for bringing my brother home.”

John has to restrain himself and not give into the urge to plop you in his lap. To make sure he won’t, he tucks his hands between his legs when you brush past him to retake your seat across the table.

Simon is good at hiding his emotions, but definitely wouldn’t mind it if you leaned on him and talked some more about video gaming. He loves the way your whole expression brightens when you do and would like nothing better than for you to be his player number two.

Stories and small talk, with the occasional silence to appreciate being alive and well, fills the kitchen as the arms of the clock creep closer to midnight.

At some point you stifle a yawn. Unfortunately, not before your brother catches you doing so. Johnny looks at the clock then back at you. “Alright, lads, it’s been great. However, despite her stubborn arse refusing to admit it, Y/N’s getting tired. Now being the great big brother I am,” the harsh slap on the upper arm does little to make him pipe down, “I think it’s time I show all of you the door.”

John, Kyle, and Simon get up without so much as a word of protest. After all, it’s bad etiquette to wear your hostess out nor does it help your chances with her.

You expected only a handshake as a farewell. Nevertheless, it’s hard to refuse the open invitation for a hug John gives you. His embrace is warm and gentle, testing out the waters to see what you will and won’t allow. His chest rises and falls with a satisfied sigh when you let him rest his head on top of yours. To be honest, it’s nice and comforting, the way he rubs some heat into your arms. “Goodnight, love. Thank you for the splendid evening.”

Kyle’s hug is more casual, like you’re a dear friend he’ll see again in the short run.

“Can I get a hug from you too?” you ask the man standing by the door, who has his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. For a moment Simon seems about to step forward. Yet, for whatever reason, he remains where he stands.

“I don’t think-“

“Please?”

How can he say no now? His mind short-circuits when you wrap your arms around his waist. His hands hover in the air for a moment before he places them lightly on your shoulders. “Thanks for tonight, Y/N.”

“Had fun?”

“I did.”

“Glad to hear it. Also,” you lean back to look at him, “keep the mask off. You’re not a lieutenant here, not Ghost.”

An amused hum escapes Simon, though later in the car he’d have to keep denying Kyle’s allegations he saw him smile. “Copy.”

“Go oan, I won’t keep you any longer.”

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Simon.”

You watch the men clamber into John’s car. They’re all staying the night at his place before heading off home.

“You like him, don’t ye?”

“Who?”

“Ghost.”

“I don’t know him.” Johnny gives you a quizzical look. “Simon, though, perhaps. He’s a good man.”

“He is.”

The only man who has his blessing to court you.

Who he hopes will truly be family one day.

His future brother-in-law.

#CoD x Reader #Soap McTavish #John Price #Ghost x Reader #Simon Riley x Reader #John McTavish #John Soap McTavish #Kyle Gaz Garrick #Captain John Price #Simon Ghost Riley #CoD MW Ghost #Ghost CoD #CoD Ghost

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dragonnarrative-writes · 1 month

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GhostGaz Week - sweet talk // missed connection

I'm so so so excited to have participated in @ghostgazweek this year! It's the first time I've done an event like this and it's brought me so much joy. To everyone who has read and commented on my work this week, thank you! I'm so excited to play with some of these concepts some more.

CW: Relationships between coworkers, mutual pining, front of house/back of house relations, Phillip Graves (derogatory), kissing, a taste of dirty talk

“Takin’ my ten,” Kyle tells his manager, pulling his phone from his pocket. Price nods, waving him off and assigning Kyle’s tables to Alex and Nova. He swings into the kitchen with an absent wave as he checks his messages and steps out back.

“’M no’ sayin’ ye have’ t’ declare yer love in front o’ the whole bloody team.”

Kyle perks up at the sound of Soap’s voice, but back-of-house gossip is going to have to wait while he tries to figure out what his off-again situationship is complaining about now. Or not - the meltdown in his messages is not worth dealing with. Just as he’s about the round the corner though, the growl of Simon’s voice freezes him.

“That’ll do, Soap.”

Kyle has to bite his lip to keep from gasping. Simon isn’t the head chef - that’s Farah - but he might as well be her right hand. He’s the glue of the weekend dinner rush. Level headed no matter what, rarely raises his voice above a raspy muttering, huge hands that Kyle has seen split an apple in half without a hint of visible effort. Whoever he dates is going to be envied by the entire front of house. Partially because he’s bloody gorgeous. But partly because he’s just the perfect man.

“Nae, yer gonna listen t’me,” Soap insists. “I promise, ‘e’s interested.”

“’E’s not,” Simon says. “Already tried flirtin’ wit’ ‘im. No dice.”

“Leavin’ a note wit’ yer phone number - in a pile of other notes with phone numbers - is no’ flirtin,” Soap says, and Kyle can imagine the despair on his face just from the tone of his voice. “Do you ken ‘ow many o’ those damn notes ‘e gets in a night?”

“Exactly. And he’s got a bird.”

“They broke up last week,” Soap hisses. “She’s shacking up with her ex.”

Kyle would snicker at how close he sounds to pulling his hair out but…

Kyle’s situationship ended last week. Because she moved in with her ex and Kyle doesn’t want to go through that roller coaster, again. And Kyle’s the flirt on shift, so he gets the most notes and phone numbers on receipts…

“’E’s got better prospects,” Simon says. Kyle hears the flick of a lighter. “Gorgeous, competent, charismatic? Kyle could have anyone.”

“And ‘e wants you, ye daft fucker,” Soap groans. “Steamin’ Jesus the two of ye. Just fuckin’ tell ‘im.”

“Tell you what,” Simon grumbles, muffled by his cigarette. “If he comes out here before my break’s done, I’ll tell ‘im.”

“Then ah’ll go in an- Oh you mother fucker! 30 seconds?”

Simon sounds amused when he says, “Tick tock.”

Kyle probably couldn’t ask for a better dramatic entrance, so he rounds the corner with a, “What’d I miss?”

Soap yelps and clutches at his chest like an old woman. Leaning against the wall, Simon looks about as surprised as he ever does, which means there’s a hunted look around his eyes, but he mostly looks tired and resigned. He settles into his thousand yard stare and takes a long drag.

“Gaz-bear!” Soap exclaims. He circles behind Kyle and shoves him forward. “Simon has something to tell you that is of a very personal nature. Do not let him distract you with talk about the kitchen! I love both of ye and ah’m tellin’ Price to fire both of ye if ye don’t talk!”

And then he’s slamming back into the kitchen, leaving Simon and Kyle alone in the alley.

He could play coy, but Kyle’s a bit giddy. “You like me, Simon?”

Simon grunts, contemplates his cigarette as he says, “Wondered ‘ow much of that you ‘eard. But don’t worry, I’ll keep professional.”

“God no.” Kyle can’t imagine anything wants less. “Tell me when you wrote me that note.”

“Dunno," Simon shrugs. "6 weeks after that shit with Graves?”

Two years ago, before Price took over, Phillip Graves had been the manager. He’d been a nightmare, harassing hostesses and firing anyone who dared to point out he was bad at his job. After the tenth straight day of a front of house person running into the kitchen to cry, pursued by Graves himself, Simon had had enough.

“I c’n make this a much more hostile working environment if tha’s what we’re aimin’ for.” The big beautiful bastard had shoved his knife a good quarter inch through a cutting board. The reverberation of the blade had rung through the painfully silent kitchen. All of the back of house looked to Farah for direction. She'd looked at Simon. Kyle, Nova, Alex, and the girl they’d been consoling by the fridges had all held their breath.

“I could fire you,” Phil spat.

“You won’t. You fuck with this kitchen, you’re losing your job,” Simon had answered. The fact that he had looked and sounded bored had scared and aroused Kyle in equal measure. “So ‘ere’s what’s going to happen - Keller and Garick are supervisors now. Pay them like it. You got a problem with front o’ house, you talk to them. Another girl comes runnin’ in here, then I‘m coming out there an’ you and I are ‘avin’ words.”

Graves had sputtered, looked around at everyone gathered, then spun on his heel and left.

Three months later, he’d gone missing. Two weeks after that, Price had arrived, greeting Farah and Simon like old friends and preparing to make the restaurant the best Kyle had ever worked at.

What did it say about Kyle that rumors that Simon had gotten rid of Graves for good only made him more attractive?

“That was more than a year ago,” Kyle says, sidling his way under Simon’s arm and leaning into him. Kyle’s not a short man, but Simon is tall and broad and warm under his work tee. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Simon takes another drag, and looks down at Kyle out of the corner of his eye. “I’m not exactly dating material. And you had a bird.”

“I would have dumped her in a heartbeat,” Kyle admits, startled when Simon barks a surprised laugh. “I would have! Fuck, I could have been sneaking out here with you for seven months? I’ll break up with her again right now.”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” Simon laughs, smashing his cigarette into the wall and dropping the butt into flower pot turned butt bin. He doesn’t move his arm from around Kyle’s shoulders.

“We’re dating now,” Kyle declares. “We’re boyfriends.”

“Movin’ kinda fast,” Simon points out.

“I’ve been in love with you for more than a year. Catch up,” Kyle dismisses. “My lease is up in four months, and I’m movin’ in with you. Now kiss me.”

Simon doesn’t hesitate. His lips are just the slightest bit rough. He smells like cigarettes and spices, and he turns to bracket Kyle against the wall. One large hand finds it’s way to the small of Kyle’s back to pull him in and press their hips together.

“Fuck,” Simon growls when Kyle moans against his mouth. “Pretty, pushy thing. Gonna be this demanding all the time, Gorgeous?”

“I have a lot of time to make up for,” Kyle groans, nibbling kisses along his jaw. “You should let me blow you.”

“Oh, should I?” Simon’s rumbling laugh sends shivers down his spine. “Should let Farah and Price catch you choking on my cock?”

Well, if Kyle was half-hard before, he’s rock hard now. “God, yeah, let me.”

“Not yet,” Simon growls, and that yet sends sparks flying through Kyle’s veins. His next kisses are just this side of too rough, tongue and teeth making Kyle’s lips so sensitive. Finally, he pulls himself away to pant into Kyle’s ear, “Let me take you on a date, huh, Gorgeous? Let me take you out, wine and dine you. Wanna know all about you, wanna talk about something other than work for more than five minutes. Then I’ll take you home and lay you out. Kiss you all over, suck that gorgeous cock of yours, yeah?"

“Jesus,” Kyle hisses. He tries to rock his hips into Simon’s, but strong hands hold him back. “Yeah, okay, yeah. Kiss me again.”

Simon laughs, dips down to give Kyle another closed-mouthed kiss. “Gotta head back in.”

“No,” Kyle pants. “Kiss me again.”

Simon growls into the next kiss and shifts to press his whole front into Kyle. When he pulls back, he presses a thumb against Kyle’s lips. “Be patient, Gorgeous. Gotta get through work tonight.”

He knows he’s pushing it, but, “…kiss me again.”

Simon’s lips are achingly gentle for a moment and then they’re gone as he takes a step back. “’M goin’ inside, now.”

“Thai food after work?” Kyle pants.

Simon chuckles and adjusts himself. “Yeah.” He swoops in for another brief peck. “It’s a date.”

#GhostGazWeek #dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #gaz appreciation nation #manic pixie dream ghost #ghostgaz #Gastropub 141 #that's this AU's name until I think of something better #because I have a lot of thoughts about this one #simon is a romantic and he has been PiningTM but he's also ready to get nasty #kyle has an itemized list of ways to get nasty with simon (soap has seen it. it keeps him up at night)#he's gonna love being loved by simon

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buggyboyizthere · 9 months

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i feel like pau and pat have an incredibly specific and complicated secret handshake.

tord just finds them twerking and whip/nae nae'ing in the halls or something and is like "they're going to be here the next ten minutes because they passed each other and had to say hi... again..."

This is their simplified version of the elaborate greeting they have

I got lazy

they’re so very nice to each other it’s crazy

#eddsworld #ew patryck #ew paul #ew asks bug edition #eddsworld patryk #eddsworld paul #ew tord #ew future tom

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lets-try-some-writing · 1 year

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has optimus ever gotten drunk around the kids.. (tfp)

:) Oh this will be fun.

Drunk as Pit

It was one time. One. Time. But that was all that it took for Optimus's entire reputation to go down the drain.

It wasn't even on purpose, but after a particularly harsh battle where Optimus nearly got beheaded and Bumblebee almost fell off a cliff, the team collectively decided it was time to relax. Ratchet, being the closet party ambulance that he is, pulled out some high grade he had been storing for who knows how long. Wheeljack brought some energex and Arcee quietly put some recreational drugs on the table as well. And while Optimus originally intended to not have any part in the celebrations, Wheeljack in his infinite wisdom decided it would be a grand idea to slip Optimus a cocktail of all three of the items that the team had brought out for consumption.

And by Primus, Wheeljack to this day is unsure if he regrets his decision or stands by it.

He handed Optimus a cube of energon that was in reality his intoxicating abomination and did his best to keep a straight face as Optimus accepted it kindly and chugged to whole thing at once due to its small size in comparison to his frame. After an hour of no reaction Wheeljack thought that Optimus's ability to withstand drunkenness' might have been indominable. But then out of the blue, Optimus dropped to the floor giggling quietly, his frame rattling with near silent laughter. The Prime just laid there on the floor for over ten minutes much to the confusion and horror of the team who were either too stoned or drunk to do much about it by that point.

The children who were enjoying cookies and cartoons on their platform took one look at the situation and their immediate thoughts were "We can use this". Upon seeing Optimus wobble to his pedes with a big dopey smile on his face going around to hug and overall be super clingy with the team, the children came up with an idea.

Miko: Hey Optimus?

Optimus: *sloshed as pit* Yesh?

Miko: *struggling to not cackle* You want to take some pictures?

Optimus: Shur, I've alwayshed liked pictshurs

Ratchet: *monotone and stoned out of his mind but still aware enough to see the trap* Optimus... no... don't do it.

Miko: Come on Optimus! Picture time!

Optimus in his drugged up and drunk state had no objection to having the children cover his faceplate in paint reminiscent of makeup. He also had no issues whatsoever with the children convincing him to do all sorts of signs and make all kinds of faces for their photos. To him it was all fun and games, something that he greatly enjoyed as Orion Pax. The peace sign he found to be hilarious, the strange dances they had him perform were humorous and silly when compared to Cybertronian dances. It made Optimus feel like a youngling again, especially when the children had him start doing what they called the "Whip and Nae Nae", "Gungnam Style", and more.

The team were horrified and dealt with some serious second hand embarrassment just watching their leader dance around in such an odd and out of character way. Optimus never did anything remotely related to partying, so watching him go all out with ridiculous dances was... startling to say the least. Thankfully for everyone, Optimus passed out on the floor, his frame covered in sharpied doodles of both appropriate and inappropriate nature before the kids could convince him to twerk or do something equally degrading (blame fowler for the second type of doodle, he couldn't not take the chance to get one up on Prime).

Optimus woke up over thirty two hours later with the worst helm ache of his life and positively zero memory of his actions previously. The team for their part refused to look him in the optic at all throughout the day, even when Ratchet was passing Optimus medicine and cleaning off the many human reproductive organs fowler had seen fit to draw all over him. Bumblebee blushed furiously as he helped Optimus get all the paint off his face a bit later and Arcee did her best to avoid Optimus entirely. Bulkhead had evidently given Wheeljack a light beating if the Wrecker's busted lip and cracked shoulder plating were any indicator, but both also refused to look at him as he went to the showers to get the rest of the gunk off.

No bot told Optimus anything, not wanting to destroy his dignity out of respect (Or fear of the whole base beating him up in Wheeljack's case). But the children had no such qualms and the moment they arrived at base, they rubbed every photo and every video in his face. Optimus was mortified and very nearly had a spark attack as more and more of the content was shown to him. He didn't even know he could bend in half the ways he had apparently done so while high as a kite and drunk as pit.

Optimus managed to convince Miko to delete the most incriminating images with the most depressed gaze he could muster, but that day he promised to himself solemnly to never again be caught drunk. He couldn't risk any more humiliation.

#maccadam #transformers #transformers prime #transformers shenanigans #team prime #tfp kids #optimus prime #drunken ridiculousness #critical hit: optimus will never fully recover #and wheeljack will never be trusted again #poor optimus has been betrayed

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ausp-ice · 4 months

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Somae (any/mirrored), an Ephezon consisting of the human Saeri and the Ephiem Om-nae.

They have a historical role instrumental to the formation of Concordia in Athon, my personal world for Ephiae and Ephezons.

Personal Website | Discord | Ephiem/Ephezon Info | Athon Lore

About Somae

We are Somae, of Saeri and Om-nae. How has everything been for you here? We hope you're settling in alright. Ah, no, we aren't technically part of the leadership of Concordia, as much as we played a role in its formation and standing against Solus in its years of conquest. You could say we're a consultant? But we never wanted to rule. We just want to make the world a place gentle enough for each of us that all of us can bloom.

Somae is an Ephezon with a gentle, friendly demeanor. Despite not (usually) having human facial features, they often give the feeling that they are smiling. Many feel curiously comfortable in her presence, and not unafraid to speak their minds. Somae enjoys honesty in themself and in others in all respects: their words, their intentions, their self-expression, and so on. They are patient even with those who might be considered more difficult, however, and they express a gentle understanding and magnanimity for those who are dishonest—perhaps it is in their nature, perhaps it is habit, perhaps it is a way to protect themself.

They are casually tactile, easily laying a hand on another's arm, shoulder, or back. They might freely give head pats and parental forms of affection for their younger disciples.

Somae is a registered Lucerne of Concordia. Every century or so, they will take on one to three disciples of any age ten or older, usually at the same time. There are no criteria besides active citizenship with Concordia, and usually there are many applicants; Om-nae and Saeri will often meet with or otherwise interact with as many as they can before deciding. These disciples will live with Somae (and by extension, Om-nae and Saeri); Somae will personally guide their education and self-development, helping them with issues in educational, professional, and personal aspects. Much of the time, Somae has parental feelings regarding their disciples, though this depends on the individual. Somae's teaching period is up to 30 years, though most achieve mastery after 15-20 years. When Somae is split into Om-nae and Saeri, they tend not hold any formal lessons but may help the disciples in other ways, and simply spend time together casually.

Somae identifies as glacierflux, in that they experience a range of intensity with their gender identity, which is fluid over very long spans of time (matching Saeri's gender). They accept any pronouns regardless of their gender, with some preference for mirrored pronouns—that is, the same pronouns as whoever is referring to them.

#art #my art #procreate #scheduled #ephiem #ephezon #athon

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forestshadow-wolf · 4 months

Text

Perched Unlikely (Chapter 3)

fighters

Pairing: soap/ghost

Tags: httyd!AU, blood, injury, gore, hurt/comfort, violence

Ao3 link || Chapter 1 || Chapter 4

“If your opponent is secure at all points, be prepared for him. If he is in superior strength, evade him.” - Sun Tzu "The Art of War"

---------

The hollow whoosh of shooting flames sounded with a roar and the dragon shrieked in agony when its tail caught in range of the fire. It shot away from the flame-spitting reptile... Straight into the other waiting dragon on the opposite side of the arena. Teeth clamped onto the heat blackened scales of its tail, sunk in deep, with crushing pressure. The wave of noise roared louder as the dragon was slammed into the stone wall that made up the arena.

“The Speed Stinger taking massive hits from both the Monstrous Nightmare and the Dramillion!” the commentator spectated gleefully.

The Speed Stinger stood up, shaking off the impact, as the other two dragons turned on each other. The sounds of the crowd rattling the chains overhead grew louder, and the stamping of their feet shook the stone. The Speed Stinger lunged at the Monsterous Nightmare, plunging it's stinger into it's hind leg. The appendage immediately fell limp, and the Dramillion took the distraction to sink it's teeth into it's throat.

"Ohhh it looks like, unfortunately, the venom of a juvanile Speed Stinger is not quite enough to immobalize a matured Monsterous Nightmare! Though the Dramillion not wasting a second of opportunity to. Go. For. The. Kill!!!"

The Dramillion turned it's bloodsplattered face to the smaller dragon.

"it's down to a battle of wit now! The Dramillion with it's infamously strong fire power! Against the daring speed of the Speed Stingerrr!"

~~~~~~~~~~

"Ten minutes to land, Sergent MacTavish!" the pilot shouted over the intercom, shaking him out of his thoughts. "The Captain says you'll meet the Lieutenant once we land. Assuming he's ontime."

"Copy copy." Soap acknowleges, shuffling to make sure all his things were collected, which wasn't hard since he hadn't taken anything out since boarding. The Dragon at his feet still sleeping as soundly as ever. He nudged her side lightly with the toe of his boot to rouse her. She grumbled, and turned her head away from him. "c'mon, up, ya' lazy reptile." a tail came up an thwacked him on the arm at that. "Ach, hey, I'm not the one sleepin' all five hours." he argued, the Speed Stinger huffed at him unamused.

There was noone on the tarmac to greet him when they landed, but that was fine. He could get himself and Lacikayra settled, then go find the lieutenant if they hadn't crossed paths by then. Fortunately there was no need to set his plan into motion, as two minutes later he was turning to the startling sight of a broad-set, masked man standing a few feet away from the ramp, waiting.

"Steamin'- Jesus. You tha' Lieutenant?" Soap jumped at the sudden appearance of such a large man behind him, without even a sound of warning. He hauled up his travel ruck, and clicked his tongue to summon his dragon to his side.

"Aye, that's me." the brit spoke bluntly, accent aggressively Manc. "Lietuenant Riley, Ghost."

Soap was half-way through introducing himself to his new Lieutenant when he heard luggage crashing to the ground behind him. He looked just in time to freeze in shock at the sight several of the cargo personnel harshly grab up the harness for his dragon and hurl it onto of a pile of other, less-than-gently handled items, and then promptly get smashed by a large rucksack. He visibly flinched at the audible crack that reached his ears.

"Nae! Nae! Nae! Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!" he yelled, his legs running him over as fast as he could to grab the, now broken, harness out of the mess of bags and other shit, just before another piece of equipment could be carelessly tossed on top. "Ye bloody Eeijit! I said STOP ye gowkn' lavvy heid! that's my bloody feckin' equipment that you bloody bawbags broke!" he could feel hands dragging him away but he didn't care. He needed that shit and they broke it! "I should bloody write you up for that! If I can't get this fixed I'll turn you into a bloody feartie! I swear I feckin' will ye wankstain!" he yells over his shoulder as he gets pulled away. He continues struggling and swearing until there is no doubt that they're out of earshot.

"Calm down, Sergent!" and Soap stops muttering curses then, breathing heavily at the deep, accented words. The harness hangs in his hand, the pieces of it loosely held together by straps and strings.

"Bloody rockets, the lot of 'em." he mutters, not able to let it go despite being told to do so.

"English, MacTavish." the man reciprocates. Shit. Great going MacTavish. Perfect first impression. Whatever, he'll deal with whatever consequences find him.

"Said they're bloody idiots, Sir. I really don't have a replacement for this one, so if I can't fix it, Lacikayra's, my dragon," he scratched under her chin to calm himself. " 's outta commission for a while, and even if I can it's a temporary mend, so light work only. and it won't last too long. At least until I can put an order out for the materials I need in order to do a complete repair, which will take time and money given everything I need, then more time to build the damn thing." he says, holding up the busted bits of wood and scrap.

"Wait- You're the transport unit? There more of you?"

"Aye, I'm transport, Sir, and it's just us." Soap gritted, still forcing himself to calm. Laci shoved her head under his hand so he could stroke along her smooth scales.

"Why don't you just grab a temp. from the equipment techs?"

"No, Sir. She'll only take to this one. It's one of a kind, Sir, made by my own hands, specially for her."

"Write up a list of everything you need for it, and get it to me by end of day. I'll make sure you get it in the next shipment." The Lieutenant- Ghost said after a moment of scrutinizing him.

"Aye, Sir, what about the Captain?"

"He'll agree with my assesment. You'll get to meet him and the Sergent in two days, after they get back from assignment."

"Yes, Sir."

With that Ghost set about leading them around base, first leading them to his nice, new, private quarters. Letting him drop off his bags, and the broken piece of equipment. Then showing them the important places he'll need to know about, as well as places he'll most likely be frequenting. Like the Captain's office, as well as the Lieutenant's own office, the cafeteria, training fields, demolitions corner, sniper range, ect.

"So the dragon." Ghost surprised him, starting up idle conversation. Soap took the offering.

"Aye, her name's Lacikayra, saved her from an illegal figthing ring when I was a birk."

"A what?"

"When I was a boy." he clarified, before continuing. "I was out with some friends, exploring this abandoned park that was nearby. And whaddya know? Illegal dragon fights, right there, basically in my own backyard. tha's how close it was." Ghost hummed. "An' well I'll be the first to say we weren't exactly the smartest bunch of lads oot there, but we thought, 'ah the guys are doin' some illegal shite' and we decide we didnae like tha' much."

"you? Teen MacTavish on the side of the law? didn't you punch an MP when you first joined?" Ghost said incredulously.

"Aye, well, the guy was bein' a dick, kickin' around mine and other people's dragons. I was jus' protecting Laci. Plus I might have also hoped my ma woulda let me keep one of 'em." he shrugged. "You know it's a bit o' a miracle we made it out unscathed. We didnae even have a plan aside from 'chaos and burn'. I think I saw tha' ring master piss his trousers when he saw all the dragons were loose. Nae sure what happened to him after that, half hope he got his face bit off, but we made it out, and whaddya know? This sweet girl," he said, caressing along the crest atop Lacikayra's head, "Ended up bonded with me." she trilled at him happily, running a head a little so she could run happy circles around them.

"She's cute." Ghost complimented.

"Aye, and fierce. Suppose she has to be, to have survived the fights, especially with a poorly healed injury." Ghost made a curious sound at that so he elaborated. "It was already long healed when I got her, but the docs said she must've sustaned burn, and bite damage to her tail when she was just a bairn. It's stunted the development of the venom gland, so her sting's a bit weak. But she still managed to survive."

"Impressive."

"I know. What about you? Got a dragon of your own? Yer file was mostly black so I didnae exactly glean much from it." Soap asked.

"Yeah I got one. Hobblegrunt, saved her from some poachers while on assignment a few years back, she was injured badly, and it was a tad touch and go for a bit, but she made it. She's a good one I'll tell you that, saved me more than a few times. You'll get to meet her when you meet the others, she's a bit shy, so I'd rather let her get used to your scent before you meet her.

"aye, that's usually how it goes with these guys, unfortunately." Soap mused, and Ghost nodded along.

"I assume you're aware that Kyle's got a Changewing?"

"Oh, yes. I was interested in that, actually. Never seen one with my own two eyes before."

"Are they not native to scotland?"

"Aye, they are, just not my part of it. Too much open land, not enough places to camouflage with. Never seen a Hobblegrunt either, for that matter."

"Good to know." Ghost nodded, looking at his watch. "Unfortunately I do have other duties to attend to, so I'll let you two settle in. Standard meal hours for the base, and the common room is open at all hours for the personal 141. And remember I need that list by the end of the day today."

"Yes, Sir, I'll have it in to you as soon as I can."

"Good, then I'll see you a 1600 hours." Ghost confirmed before striding away to do whatever else he had to do.

@myriadblvck @queermentaldisaster @bringinsexybackk69

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #HTTYD au #Perched Unlikely #el rambles #speed stinger

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philtstone · 6 months

Note

your choice of Fellowship members, 17

#17 -- "San Fransisco", The Mowgli's I've been in love with love and the idea of, Something binding us together, You know that love is strong enough :')

For all that Sam has only just traversed half of Middle Earth and faced unspeakable horrors, there is still a small part of him, which he is sure many a self-respecting Hobbit would be proud of, that feels wholly out of sorts at an event of Men so grand as this.

The food at Aragorn's coronation feast is right delicious, though. This does make Sam feel very confirmed in his choice of friends.

"I don't think they'll do it," comes Pippin's voice, while Sam finishes the last of his ale and happily digs into a very flavourful sweet potato pie, "there's too many people watchin'. And her father's right there and everything."

"I'll bet you half of Gimli's best pipeweed,” says Merry, “in ten minutes -- alright, fifteen -- they’ll be off. Go on, look at their faces, Pip."

"Bet on your own pipeweed," grumbles Gimli, rather more loudly than might be advisable. "And nae, they'll last another twenty yet. These elf types are made of unnaturally strong stuff, I've come to find."

"You're only saving the pipeweed because you are afraid of losing it to me," says Legolas calmly. "As I am correct in thinking they shan't last five."

Sam watches as Gimli takes back his compliment, and Legolas's flagon of ale, with great ceremony. Legolas is handed a second, unscathed flagon immediately by Pippin, who seems to have produced it out of thin air.

Amongst all the everything else, Sam has to admit there's something relieving about being able to simply sit in companionable tomfoolery with his old friends. There is still loss, lingering around them, but it doesn't hurt so -- certainly not at a time like this, when joy ripples through the room like a bubbling brook, carried by most everyone in the court but none so effortlessly as Aragorn himself, whose face -- ever grave, often warm in Sam's memory -- is transformed completely into a beacon of radiant, cloudless laughter.

Beside him, almost literally glowing with her own happiness, is Lady Arwen.

Throughout the former half of the day, Aragorn had admirably devoted his attention to any and all who required it, with a forward sincerity that no one could question. It’s by now late evening, and the King and his lady have spent the day standing closer and closer to one another until now they are all but bound at the hip like lovers (which Sam supposes with a little private nod to himself they are), sat at the great table at the front of the room (most folk are too caught up in their own celebrating to notice anymore), arm in arm (like black-eyed Susans wrapped ‘round each other!), and with their heads bowed such that their cheeks almost touch but not so much that the whole hall can’t see their delighted, whisper-y, intimate laughter.

They’ve been at it for nearly an hour by now. It’s a little hard to tell whose robe starts where. Sam’s sure that were this any other time and place, there'd be a lot of tongues wagging about propriety and such.

Then again, Sam doesn't know much about propriety when it comes to Men and Elves, does he?

“I’m telling you,” says Merry. “Fifteen more minutes, and then we’ll look over, and they’ve snuck off.”

“No, no,” says Pippin, wiping importantly at his froth mustache; they are, Sam’s got to admit, all a bit in their cups. “They’re too much in their own world. I don’t think it’ll occur to them to do it.”

“Five,” says Legolas primly. “The people are reveling and Lord Elrond looks pleased.”

“He’s looking pleased at the wall all the way over there,” says Gimli, stifling a dignified burp. He passes Legolas the ale again, who takes it and finishes it off, “which is well enough, I’d agree, but dear Pippin makes a good point.”

“Why thank you, Gimli.”

“What do you think, Frodo?” asks Merry, crossing his arms in a preemptive triumph.

They all look over; Frodo’s been more quiet than any of the rest of them all evening, which is to be expected these days. Sam thinks this with a sharp ache in his heart. Merry and Pippin and Gimli, alongside many others, have loosened their proverbial neckties and rumpled themselves the way grand feasts ought to rumple you; even Legolas has hairs sitting the wrong way on his head. Save the scarf Pippin lent an hour ago for additional warmth, Frodo looks just as he was early this morning: clean and tired, and occasionally with a small smile on his face whenever he looks upon his friends. For Merry's question he does not have a smile, and takes a long moment to answer, and Sam worries that perhaps in their own enjoyment they’ve left him too long to be caught in his own head and heartache – on a night like this! – and the thought carries with it a sort of sadness that a Sam of only a year ago wouldn’t have thought possible.

Then Frodo says,

“The real question we ought to be asking, Merry, is — how much do we think Aragorn has had to drink?”

And he isn’t his old self, to be sure, but he’s got a little sparkle of mischief in his eye that gets Sam grinning a big old grin.

The collective begins muttering contemplatively amongst themselves quite immediately.

“Now that is a good question,” says Merry.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him have more’n a cup,” opines Gimli. “Now, Legolas — Legolas --" (He reaches an arm over to swat at the elf) "you've known him longer than the rest of us --"

“Hmmmm,” is all Legolas says, deep in a consternated focus, looking with such drunken intensity at the king that Sam thinks it’s a miracle Aragorn doesn’t notice.

Or maybe he does, and is just ignoring them.

“He does seem awful giggly-like,” says Pippin, drawing his chin back with wide eyes and a voice tinged with a bit of awe, “that’s right enough.”

Even Sam finds himself seriously considering Frodo's question.

Then,

“He has had barely a drop,” interrupts a sudden, sonorous voice, and the group of them startles sharply. There, of course, is Gandalf: appeared robed and overall perfectly put together behind their table, sucking serenely on his pipe where he stands tall above them, “for the King's attention has been elsewhere; what you are observing is simply the effects of being in love.”

His eyes twinkle with the same mischief Frodo's held.

“Or,” Gandalf adds slowly, “indeed, what you are not observing.”

He nods with significance, and Sam turns back to see a thoroughly empty pair of seats.

“Oh!” exclaims Pippin.

“How long’s it been?” demands Merry.

"I cannot see them!" cries Legolas.

“Oh, not four minutes,” says Gandalf gravely, and Legolas makes a dismayed face.

“But a moment off!” he laments.

“So I suppose not a single one of you may claim Glimli's good pipeweed,” Gandalf informs them. He blows a perfectly shaped smoke ring towards Merry, who sighs with yearning; Pippin is still looking around the room open-mouthed with surprise. “Now, if you might excuse me, I must go meddle in some affairs,” says Gandalf.

He sweeps away, towards the other far corner of the hall, where between the dancers Faramir stands shooting looks (Sam's sure he himself has had such looks in the past) at a resplendent (if slightly red cheeked) White Lady of Rohan.

Sam sits back in his seat. It's true, all in all: Aragorn and Arwen really are nowhere to be found. Lord Elrond, Sam notices, continues to look very determinedly at that wall, but with a happy sort of expression on his face.

Sam's seen just enough of the world to figure when how some elves are feeling, at least.

"He could've come said goodnight," says Merry, sounding slightly put out.

"Ach," says Gimli, with a surety that's very characteristic of him, yes, but terribly comforting all the same. "We'll see him again tomorrow."

And the simple truth of it, Sam thinks -- if just for now -- might be the greatest relief they've all felt in some time.

He looks towards Frodo; he has a hand held over his mouth, and is working very hard to smother his laughter. With another private nod to himself, Sam digs back into his potato pie.

“So …” begins Pippin's voice again after a moment, emerging from the cheerful bustle and chatter around them. “How long do we think, 'til Faramir and Eowyn sneak off?"

#hello. i am deep in my feelings about Them #lord of the rings #my writing #sam gamgee #frodo baggins #legolas greenleaf #gimli son of gloin #aragorn #arwen undomiel #aragorn x arwen #merry brandybuck #pippin took #gandalf #return of the king #spotify wrapped prompt meme #lotrweek

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scotianostra · 1 month

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April 28th 1919 saw two crew members lose their lives from Fraserburgh lifeboat, Lady Rothes.

The Fraserburgh lifeboat crew of 13 had launched their motor lifeboat Lady Rothes, following a call for help from the Admiralty drifter Eminent. In a gale, the ship’s engine had broken down. They signalled for help at 9am, drifting towards shore at the south end of Fraserburgh Bay.

Someone had called out “It’s nae a day for oilskins today, lads!” – the inference being that if the boat capsized the oilskins would drag the wearer under if they capsized.’ Coxswain Andrew Noble and Acting Second Coxswain Andrew Farquhar were the only ones who chose to wear oilskins.

All the lifeboat crew put on their lifejackets and launched.

The crew had a lot of faith in the lifeboat. It was self-righting and had proven its mettle in previous rescues. The volunteers were ready to take to the oars if the engines couldn’t power through the heavy swell. Before the lifeboat reached the Eminent, disaster struck.

The lifeboat took one lump of water on the port bow , it knocked her onto her beam end and the second wave caused her to capsize. Three of the crew members managed to cling onto the lifeboat, but ten were thrown overboard.

The Lifeboat magazine of that The 42ft-long Lady Rothes was just overcome by the swell, the sheer weight of the water and the size of the waves.’ era described it as a ‘DEPLORABLE accident’. Nobody was at fault.

The lifeboat righted herself immediately. Four of the crew managed to clamber back onboard, out of the icy water. Two of the others clung onto the lifelines on the hull of the lifeboat.

That left four of the lifeboat crew strewn across the water. The lifeboat and the men were swept helplessly towards the beach.

The desperate crowd on the shore pulled the men clear of the surf. Andrew Noble and Andrew Farquhar were alive when they were cast up on the beach, but despite medical attention, they died almost immediately.

Many people are shocked to learn that the men died after being pulled out alive. You can only surmise that it was due to exposure, exhaustion, cold water shock, inhalation of water or secondary drowning. We’ll never know whether their oilskins made a difference in the water.

The rest of the crew survived.

Meanwhile, the Eminent and crew were still in distress. Eminent ran aground. Those ashore managed to attach a line to the boat and all nine of the Eminent’s crew were saved.

Reports are sketchy about how it happened as the newspapers focused on the lifeboat tragedy. It might have been the local lifesaving brigade. There was also one report of heroism by a man called Stocks, a boxing champion, who jumped into the raging sea with a line and swam to the Eminent.

Both Andrew Noble and Andrew Farquhar left widows and children, who the RNLI was able to help them financially.

It was a huge loss for the station and community. Andrew Noble was an RNLI medal-winning coxswain who had served since 1887. Andrew Farquhar volunteered on the crew and worked as a pilot at Fraserburgh Harbour.

The lifeboat had been at Fraserburgh since 1915. It was named after the Countess of Rothes who survived the Titanic disaster, and funded by her father.

The lifeboat had minimal damage from the disaster and was back on service in a matter of weeks. It’s an indication of the faith that the crew had in their lifeboat, that the same volunteers came forward.

The Fraserburgh crew continued to save lives on the Lady Rothes until she was retired from service in 1937.

Pics are of the lifeboat and Andrew Noble (left) and Andrew Farquhar (right)

#scotland #scottish #history #Aberdeenshire #maritime disaster #lifeboat

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nochetimee · 1 year

Text

You guys wanna see my Kid’s Next Door hcs?? 🤗

Hoagie's dog loves Wally and is thrilled whenever he’s over. The second Hoagie announces he’s home and Wally’s with him, his dog bolts and strikes Wally down, showering him with licks.

Kuki loves photography and before she gets decommissioned, she goes over all of the photos and videos she took of her friends. From videos of Hoagie's little comedy show and Wally’s terrible guitar skills to photos of Abigail's hairdo Kuki did for her and Nigel on dates with Lizzie

Sector V genuinely believe that their toys are alive because of Toy Story. They’ve set up camera systems to catch them moving but so far, they don’t have any footage

If Nigel was in charge of the music, he would play “Cha Cha slide”, “Whip nae nae”, and “La Chona” with great pride. Also, no matter where they’re at, Sector V will stop whatever they are doing and follow the dance moves in the “Cha-cha Slide”

Wally loves those coconut candy bars or those Rico Coco cookies but due to his allergies, Abby hides them away from him. Despite that, Wally manages to find the box and devour the entire thing behind her back

Hoagie is a proud Animaniac fan. He has most of the songs memorized and before Mushi was revealed to be evil, she would watch the cartoon with him whenever Kuki brought her over to the treehouse

Wally used to think Kuki had germs, but not because of the whole “girl has cooities!” thing, but because whenever he was around her he got queasy. It got so bad sometimes he would tell Numbuh 5, whole told Hoagie, who told Nigel, who informed Wally he wasn’t sick at all and had a crush on Numbuh 3 instead. How did Nigel know? Because he felt the same way about Lizzie before he got together

Hoagie loves book-accurate movies and will criticize them harshly if they aren’t accurate. But he doesn’t he get upset if they miss one detail, instead he gets irritated when they switched up the plot and characters personality. He rants on about it to his friends and gets slightly upset when no one shares the same energy with him (he’s so me)

Kuki can rollerskate and Wally can’t, whenever they go to a skating rink, Wally makes sure that Kuki doesn’t fall over or trip. Yet in the end, Numbuh 4’s the one who keeps tripping over and over again. Numbuh 3 finds this hilarious and will instead be the one to make sure he doesn’t fall over by holding his hand

Abigail loves spicy candy and Hoagie can barely handle ten dashes of pepper. Hoagies reaction to the spice cracks Abigail up everytime. Sometimes, Hoagie isn’t really effected by the spices, he just overreacts to get a laugh out of Abby.

Lizzie and Wally make mudpies together whenever Lizzie is waiting for Nigel to get back from his mission. They have silly bake-offs and start playing pretend chefs.

THATS ALL FOLKS ‼️

Look at them :0

#codename kids next door #kids next door #codename knd #knd #headcanon

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yellowkitkieran · 1 year

Text

Body Shots (Kieran, Martin + reader)

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Your situationships with both Martin and Kieran boil over when both boys plot to show you how fun they can be.

Purely self indulgent, based on my favorite trope to ever exist. Beta read by my babe @cfchloe

At today's match at the Emirates, your only wish is for Kieran to be subbed on.

You've entertained a 'will they, won't they' sort of relationship with Kieran for months now. The Scotsman is reluctant to actually make a move thanks to Arteta's strict rules regarding players being forbidden to date staff.

However, that same rule hasn't stopped the other boy that's shown interest in you, none other than the captain, Martin Ødegaard. He's asked you out twice now but you've politely declined, letting him know you're not interested in anything serious in any sense of the word. Martin being Martin, once he had an explanation he accepted your word as law and backed off, maintaining a playful, flirty relationship with you that you both enjoy.

In the tunnel whilst you were fixing Kieran's jacket before he headed out, you'd given him a task: if he was subbed on, you wanted him to score. If he couldn't do that then you wanted to see him get an assist, so you could still celebrate him.

Luck shines down on you when he's on the pitch at the 65th minute, and you fear you'll nearly melt into your seat behind the bench when he glances over at you once he's in position. You're pretty sure you've become a puddle when Kieran flicks his tongue over his lips, hands on his hips while he waits for kick off, eyes locked on yours.

Kieran gives a hundred and ten percent from the moment the whistle blows. He moves like a demon, twisting past defenders and moving like a wisp on the wind. Each time he has the ball at his feet you're up off your seat, thighs tense with anticipation as you wait for him to shoot. And after a few minutes he crosses it to his right, aiming for Saka and hitting his mark perfectly.

Nine minutes after coming on, Kieran has completed your request. You aren't surprised; he's been confident lately and you knew he'd make an impact today. You scream yourself hoarse along with every single red-blooded gunner in the stadium, so loud that the ground shakes.

You don't have the words to describe how proud you are. Even if you're not official, you love knowing that Kieran takes you seriously.

Martin is the one Kieran looks towards, with a thousand watt smile that shines as brilliant as the sun. Martin's face reflects the same pride you feel in your chest as he heads for his best mate first, hugging him in congratulations and saying something that sparks Kieran's attention. You can just make out the words 'are you serious?' On Kieran's lips, and Martin responds with a nod. When Martin's eyes find you in the crowd, the look he gives you sends a delicious chill down your spine.

What do those two have up their sleeves?

**********

Three hours later you've joined half the squad at Aaron's house for an after party. A four one win that sees them keep a steady lead at the top of the table is reason enough to have everyone wanting to celebrate, although personally you're more interested in celebrating Kieran.

The two of you sit on the sofa, heads bent together to hear each other over the music. You spotted Martin when you came in twenty minutes ago but he hasn't come over to say hello yet, probably caught up in making his rounds.

You finish the drink you'd stolen from Kieran upon your arrival and wipe the back of your hand over your mouth. "Ugh- if we go out to a pub, remind me to not get whatever you have. It's terrible! Doesn't that burn your stomach? Or am I just weak?"

Kieran's laugh sets off butterflies in your stomach and brings a flush to your cheeks. "Lassie, it's only whisky! It's nae that bad! I've had worse honestly- I like the taste!" His hand lands on your thigh and he shakes his head, amused by your inability to hold your liquor. On instinct you cover his hand with your own. You glance around the room to see if anyone notices the touch, worried about being caught and Kieran potentially falling back onto the bench or worse, left out of the squad entirely as punishment for being involved with a member of Arsenal staff.

"Don't look so tense elskling!" Martin leans over the sofa and plants a kiss to the crown of your head. "Everyone here is either far too wrapped up in someone of their own to notice us, or is someone that we can all trust to not go spilling the beans. No one is gonna rat us out, so let's just enjoy ourselves!"

"Us?"

"Mmhm- that's what I said, love. Didn't you tell Kieran you wanted to celebrate him? That's what we're gonna do." Martin leans forward and fills your glass with a shot of vodka.

"Um… yes? I guess so?" You have no idea where this is going but from the look the two boys share, you know you'll enjoy it.

Kieran lightly pats your thigh and his eyes drift over your stomach, left exposed by the tied up Arsenal kit you're wearing. His tongue darts out over his lips and your thighs squeeze together involuntarily, which Kieran notices and grins.

"Be a good lassie and finish that drink for me love, will you? Martin and I came up with something while we were waiting for you to finally show up." Martin nudges your shoulder as he leans forward, his face inches from yours. He's so close that you can feel his breath on your cheek and it makes you shiver. You knock back the drink without a second thought, slamming the glass on the low table in front of you once you'd finished.

"Good girl," Martin mumbles in your ear before kissing your cheek. The entire interaction leaves you speechless. What in the world is going on? You've contemplated dating Kieran or Martin for ages, and you know they both want you, but this feels like some sort of fever dream.

Martin comes around to sit on your other side, his arm slung over your shoulder. "You know elskling, Kieran and I were thinking… you won't date either of us right? Because you don't want us to get in trouble. Which we appreciate- butttttt Arteta's rule doesn't say anything about a more casual relationship."

"I-" you struggle to form a coherent thought, let alone a full sentence. Kieran's hand slides closer to your center as he leans in to press a kiss to your jaw, grinning when you let out a deep breath.

"Dammit boys, you know I want you both! I've told you as much- could you please stop- stop torturing me… Jesus christ Kieran, that's amazing."

The dusting of stubble on Kieran’s face scratches deliciously on your neck as he kisses his way down to your collarbone. He smiles against your skin when he reaches the collar of the red Arsenal kit you wear, pulling it back between his teeth to expose more of your skin. A sharp inhale escapes you when his tongue darts over the hollow of your throat before he pulls away.

"Kieran-"

"Yes sweetheart? What can I do for you?"

"Nothing- ahh, fuck off Martin!" Martin starts on the opposite side, repeating everything Kieran has just done in the same order. You can't tell if it's the liquor or the boys that you're drunk on, but you're loving every second. By the time Martin finishes his round, your head is spinning and you're certain you need something more from them.

Martin leans across and grabs two bottles from near Kieran's feet. "Right, I'm doing tequila, mate you still want whisky yeah?"

"Yeah that's fine with me, anything that'll get me tipsy!"

Martin grins and nods to the table set up for drinking games across the room. No one is currently using it and your stomach flips at the thought of what they're up to.

"Oh that'll work. Sweetheart," Kieran turns to you with a wicked smile that could convince you to do anything, "what do you say you let Martin and I do some shots off you?"

"I- I'm sorry, what?! Are you two insane- actually yes you are!" Both boys laugh and wait for you actual answer, wanting honesty and preferring not to sway your thoughts. Ninety nine percent of you screams yes, but that nagging voice in the back of your head reminds you that you could lose your job. The boys could be benched if anyone here said a word, though they seem confident no one will. And aside from all that… you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about the two of them together, fulfilling your own dirty fantasies.

For once in your life, you decide you want to live for yourself instead of upholding the rule book. Plus you trust Martin's word and if he says you're safe, then you’ll take the risk. "Fuck it- yeah let's go!"

You fear your heart might burst out of your chest as you and your dynamic duo get settled in. You lay on the table they've cleared for you face up, knees bent, shoes sticking to the sugar-stained surface. Kieran's fingers brush your exposed stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in is wake and catching your attention.

"Can I move this up a bit love?" He gently touches the hem of your kit and you nod, eager to get on with it before you change your mind. "Thank you. Just don't wanna wreck it is all, since I know you cannae replace it. It's the one from your first day yeah?" When you nod, Kieran smiles. "Thought so. Right, pour some out for us Mar!"

Kieran tucks your shirt up to your bra, exposing your entire midriff to the cold air. Martin splays a hand on your stomach and smiles at his mate. "You want upper or lower?"

Kieran tips his head and traces a finger between your hip bones with a tenderness that makes you shiver. He's thought about this long and hard. "Right there. That's my line."

"Gonna be cold elskling, bear with me yeah?" Despite the warning, you hiss when the alcohol hits your skin, but do your best to keep still. Fuck, are your shallow breaths because you're nervous or because of how fucking hot this whole thing is?

"Mine will be right here then," Martin murmurs, dribbling a line a few inches beneath your shirt. "Same time Key?"

Same time- what?! You lift your head in time to see Kieran nod, and both boys dip their heads. "What do you-"

Under normal circumstances, you'd be embarrassed by the moan you let out when two tongues hit your stomach from opposite sides of your body. Martin and Kieran lick your skin dry, leaving it glistening when they pull away. Is this a dream? It has to be a fucking dream because you've never been turned on as much as you are now. Holy fuck was that erotic- you swear you can still feel their tongues on you even though they both are grinning at you while you lose your mind.

"You like that sweetheart? We can do it again, I wouldn't be opposed." You nod before Kieran finishes talking, and Martin pours out another round onto your stomach. This time you're slightly more prepared for the jolt of pleasure down your spine but that doesn't stop you from groaning, back arching slightly and spilling the liquid across your abdomen before they're finished.

Martin's hand lands square on your sternum and presses at the same time Kieran's finds your hip and does the same, keeping you from moving whilst they clean up the mess you created. Fucking hell, you're not sure you can take much more of this. You're already borderline overstimulated from their mouths on you and the hand Kieran inches up your side doesn't help matters.

When both boys finish, they grin at each other. Their shining mouths set the gears in your head turning and you know they must be thinking exactly the same thing.

Kieran is the one to break the silence, "Why don't we head upstairs and find a room yeah?"

Martin's grin is downright feral, curling your toes. "I thought you'd never fucking ask." Martin trails his fingers up your stomach, "and you, prinsesse? What do you say?"

"One of you carry me up right fucking now! I don't trust myself to walk."

"Now that's a request I can honor." Kieran picks you up bridal style, one arm under your knees and the other around your back, taking the steps two at a time with Martin hot on his heels. You might not be sure how this will work but one thing is for certain: you're in for a long, pleasurable night.

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