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autisticsupervillain · 2 months

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Complete Monster Write-Up: Reza Zaydan

What's the Work?

Hitman is stealth action game franchise following the adventures of the world's greatest assassin, Agent 47. The World of Assassination Trilogy is the latest entry in the series as of now, with its third main story mission having two targets for 47 to bring down: Carl Strandberg and today's candidate Reza Zaydan.

Who's the Candidate? What have they done?

Reza Zaydan is a general in the Moroccan Army, known amongst his peers more for womanizing and social skills than for any actual military victory. A classic nepotism baby, Zaydan is always looking to get more power and is willing to sink to any low to get it if it means upstaging the rest of his highly successful family.

Willingly signing up with an international secret society called Providence, Zaydan agreed to become their Puppet King if they aided him in taking over Morroco. To this end, he hatched a plan with banker Claus Strandberg to initiate a military coup. When Strandberg gets caught steeling millions of dollars from the Moroccan public, Zaydan hires mercenaries to break him out of jail, leaving countless innocents and security personnel dead in their wake. This sparks a public outcry that causes riots all across Marrakesh, which Zaydan hopes he can use to justify a full on military coup, painting the Moroccan government as weak and incompetent to his fellow commanders for their inability to handle the riots so they'll join him in uprising.

To further fuel the flames, Zaydan has his people spread propaganda for the terrorist organization Crystal Dawn, hoping to use their supposed involvement to spark massive violent riots across all the most populated cities in Morroco. Once the dust is settled, Zaydan shamelessly admits he plans to have these false flag operatives executed so they can't contradict the narrative he's created.

When one of Zaydan's closest lieutenants and friends learns that his brother died in the Strandberg prison break, he threatens to go public with the truth behind the coup. Zaydan rewards this treachery by have him captured and tortured with advanced interrogation techniques, smugly taunting him about his dead brother in between rounds of torture. Out on the streets, Zaydan's soldiers have innocent people thrown out of their houses and workplaces to convert them to military bases for the upcoming coup, with one store owner in particular being threatened at gun point and told his family will be shot if he does not cooperate. Zaydan has turned the public school into his personal base for the coup this way, forcing the headmaster to live with a relative nearby as he now has nowhere else to go since he cannot work.

Desiring nothing more than to dominate his own country, Zaydan smugly admits that once all is said and done, he plans to throw Strandberg from a plane once he's no longer needed, happy to kill anyone who gets in his way of conquering Morroco.

Thankfully, Agent 47 is brought in to put a stop to this violent insurrection, eliminating both Zaydan and Strandberg before any further damage can be done.

Mitigating Factors?

Nothing concretely redeeming at any rate. Zaydan comes from a large, wealthy family and its suggested that this is what fuels his lust for power, but he never mentions them and no redeeming care or fondness is implied. Zaydan is not popular amongst his own troops, with many badmouthing him behind his back for being a cowardly nepo baby. Several of his own troops express disgust for his fondness for torture and his orders to shoot civilians, with him childishly blowing up at any he hears criticize him. While Zaydan gets on better with his lieutenants, he's happy to throw them to the wolves when betrayed, as discussed above. If directly confronted by 47, he'll even flee to save his own life, leaving all his troops, loyal or not, for dead.

He's not even liked by his girlfriends. One spy working for international terrorist group IAGO mentions that she hates him so much that she's considering quiting just so she won't have to keep dating him.

The biggest concern is being played seriously. There's an Easter Egg in which, if every soldier in the building is dismissed, Zaydan will start dancing a silly dance to goofy disco music. That said, this isn't canon. It's a silly easter egg with no baring or context in the plot and shouldn't be taken against Zaydan's canon actions.

The other issue is Zaydan's potential death, where 47 can drop a toilet on his head from the floor above while he whines about his soldiers disrespecting him. This is his only silly moment in canon, though, and its not enough to detract from how dead straight his atrocities are played otherwise.

Heinous Standard

Hitman's heinous standard is jacked. Just in the WOA Trilogy alone, we have a terrorist organization that got a diplomat and his family killed by leaking classified flight plans, an organ harvester who experiments on the homeless to create mind control technology, and a cult hellbent on spreading an apocalyptic plague around the world.

That said, Zaydan is the most heinous villain in his niche. The latter above examples are CMs in their own right with backing from large, international organizations. Zaydan is ultimately a small cog in Providence's large design whose mostly content just subjugating his own country. As far as dictators whose scope is limited to just their country go? Zaydan is easily the worst.

All the other dictators in the franchise that 47 goes after are all already retired by the time he gets to them, so their crimes are offhandedly described in conversation and mission briefings. Nothing they do goes quite so far in scope and attempted body count as Zaydan does. We see, in gameplay, most of his atrocities play out in front of us. Civilians forced from their homes, a whistle-blower tortures, a riot in the verge of bloodshed that Zaydan plans to spread to major cities all around the country, putting the pieces in place to justify gunning down thousands of innocent civilians to secure his rise to power. Yeah, I think he's bad enough by a hair or two.

Conclusion

He's got a yes from me. I think he just clinches it.

#complete monster #cm write up #hitman #agent 47 #reza zaydan

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chungmyungenthusiast · 1 month

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Banter

Notes I Pure fluff maybe + chung myung content ?!?! woah.. keep in mind that this is not edited and checked :3

Chung Myung will never let you live this down. No way. Especially when he, quite literally, had you pinned down. "Give up yet?" He asks, his tone teasing as he looks down at you with that shit-eating grin he knows you have a hate-love relationship with. God, you want to wipe that grin off his face so bad. "Love," You start, your tone seemingly pleading as you look up at him. The one and only Mount Hua's Divine Dragon, Chung Myung, swore he could explode at any given moment. And while that normally is a threat to the other disciples, it means something else now. Slowly but surely, you lean closer to him. You then pout, "Please.." A kiss, then you turn the tables on him. For a split second, he was caught off-guard with that kiss; you didn't waste any time switching your positions. How cute he looks when he's under you. "I'll kiss you, okay? So please, keep your voice down."

Notes II Chung Myung deserves all of the kisses and hugs in the world.

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loverboybreakdowns · 1 month

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still thinking about why community fics are so well written on average like theres gotta be some kind of reason right? whats so different about the fandom compared to everything else

#like tbc im not insulting other fandoms #but like #just in terms of straight up like grammar word usage readability imagery. why are they like that #i mean obv i havent read fics for That Many fandoms #but like. spn is spn right there are like a billion spn fics its a huge fandom so that makes sense #cm is just a complete shithole for reasons unknown to me #always sunny & 911 are both good #but like. the writing in my favorite macdennis & buddie fics is as technically skilled as what i’d consider probs an average trobed fic #& again i want to be clear im not disparaging other fandoms other fics i just want to know why community fics are so insanely well written #rambling

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apollo18 · 2 years

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Ah man, there should have been a bit about the season one young justice crew using Captain Marvel’s wisdom of Solomon like their own personal siri/alexa before the identity reveal

#if only season one came out like one or two years later then the writing team could have squeezed that in before production had to start #Wally doing homework: hey cap what’s the capital of Papua New Guinea #Cm not looking up from league paperwork: Port Moresby #captain marvel #Billy batson #kid flash #Wally west #young justice #I’m definitely using this in viv

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cm-lily · 2 months

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“I have something for you.”

“Oh, is this… Poppy flower?”

“Yes… I thought you like poppies? Do you not like it?”

“Oh I do! The flowers are nice, I really like it. It's just…” He sigh. “It just remind me of something.”

“Sorry….”

“It's fine, you didn't know. It's in the past anyway,” He assures, slipping the delicate flower between his ear. “I've grown to like it back.”

The person smiles, jagged teeth distorting his scarred face. “I see, I'm glad.”

#cm write #desert duo #third life #Hint of Taurtis #Yes I am alive and unwell #Exam just hold me hostage #Send help #Also every couple/duo who has poppy as their symbolism always end up dead #COINCIDENCE?

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coquelicoq · 1 year

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i understand being disappointed that the kurodachi kiss was off-camera because of what it implies about extratextual attitudes towards depicting gay affection. but from a storytelling perspective, for this particular story, i really liked how they shot that scene actually! specifically i liked that the camera focuses in on their hands, because i found their hands more relevant in that moment than whatever was happening with their faces (smooching, presumably).

this scene is happening in the context of the earlier scene on the bridge when adachi was reaching out his hand to touch kurosawa in order to secretly read his thoughts. up to this point adachi's hands have been, or have at least held the latent potential of being, a weapon adachi can wield against people, a way for him to violate their privacy should he choose to do so. in fairness to adachi, usually he hears people's thoughts without actively trying. but the fact remains that he could. and he did try on the bridge, which judging by kurosawa's brokenhearted reaction was a clear violation of kurosawa's trust (as well as an admission that adachi didn't trust kurosawa enough to believe his words).

adachi can hear thoughts through any part of his body, but it's his hands that he can purposefully reach out with. it's his outstretched hand that gives him away when kurosawa turns around and sees him on the bridge. and it's always been (i think) kurosawa in the past who has initiated hand-holding, and often when it happens, the camera cuts away to adachi's face for his reaction and then returns to their hands to show us adachi's fingers curling around kurosawa's in return. lots of things happen to adachi that are out of his control, but he can control his hands. he makes choices with his hands. his hands represent his intentionality.

adachi's power creates an imbalance in their relationship because it only goes in one direction; in the past, their touches have always given adachi some information about what kurosawa feels for him, but not the reverse. the great thing about the kiss scene is that they've just sat down and communicated clearly with each other about both the nagasaki transfer (the thing they were hiding their feelings about during the bridge scene) and adachi's accident. they are being open, consensually and reciprocally. they're on an even footing. adachi thinks "how can i make him feel all the love i have for him?" and that's when he touches him. this touch has nothing to do with adachi reading kurosawa's thoughts - presumably that is happening incidentally (though in a further sign that that is not the point of this touch, we the audience do not hear kurosawa's inner voice here), but this touch is adachi's way of communicating to kurosawa the way that adachi feels. it's an inversion of their usual dynamic. it's touch as true, two-way intimacy.

one more thing and then i promise to shut up about this. adachi reaches out after seeing the way kurosawa, who has just apologized for being a mess (aka having emotions), is compulsively squeezing his own hands together in a crushing anxiety grip in his lap. adachi can by now i think recognize these as symptoms of the classic kurosawa self-blame spiral. he touches kurosawa's head with one hand and with the other takes one of kurosawa's hands and replaces kurosawa's fingers with his own. and it's their two hands, not their faces, that the camera focuses on while they're (presumably) kissing. this means that the story's answer to "how can i make him feel all the love i have for him?" is not "kiss him" or "sleep with him" but rather "hold his hand" - something that they've done before but that is being given new meaning in the context of their conversation (see above) and that is being initiated by adachi for the first time. we know that adachi has lost the magic by the next scene, which presumably means they had sex after this, but the story completely downplays the loss of adachi's virginity (which i appreciate, because i'm always looking for interpretations of this show that fit my The Concept of Virginity Is Stupid and Reductive agenda, especially when "the magic is about insecurity" is right there). the cherry-popping (barf) is not as important to adachi's arc as the fact that he proved in this scene that he has grown past the need for the magic and that he's ready to explore emotional and physical intimacy without it.

okay i lied, last thing. i mean it this time though. not only does adachi initiate, he also interlaces their fingers, which i think might be another first (usually they just clasp hands or kurosawa curls his hand around adachi's). which is like! a visual representation of the stuff adachi keeps trying to communicate to kurosawa throughout the rest of the movie!! interlocking their fingers is saying: when you're weak, i'll be strong. it's saying: we'll go together. it's saying: i know you're beating yourself up over this, and you don't need to. i don't want you to. you're enough. we're enough. we're together. we're a team!!!

#me: i'll just write up a quick thing about the kiss scene #*three hours and fifty emotions later* okay so this maybe got away from me a little bit #sorry as always for using three times as many words as necessary to make my point but editing is time-consuming :/#and it's almost 2 in the morning now! somehow!!#cherry magic #cm movie spoilers #my posts #f #links #i think it could have been nice to see them kiss in another scene after this one but i'm okay with the fact that they didn't #this particular show has always been about the emotional intimacy for me #the physical intimacy is interesting insofar as the magic being touch-based creates delicious moral quandaries for adachi #and like i am just always a sucker for hands. god. what's my tag #it's the hands that get me

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sideblogforcrimpy-plus · 4 months

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Rinse; Repeat

Words: 4,478, chapter one of probably two.

Rated: Handle with care, cw suicidal thoughts/discussion, canon typical violence, hints at abuse/bullying

Summary: Spencer and Derek meet before either of them are in the BAU. Spencer is hesitant as a deer to be close and all Derek wants is to be close (so does Spencer). Spencer is clearly Troubled and Derek just wants to love him softly, honestly. Like filtered afternoon sunlight and sepia filters.

but for real I just, I saw a post that made me laugh and go 'ahaha, unless?' and then sat down uncomfortably on the floor for three hours and wrote this.

For my own comfort/entertainment, Derek and Spencer are closer in age than my recent google search would lead me to believe. Thank (●'◡'●)

---- 2003

Derek was having a truly sucky day. The academy was rough, and as good as he was at all the physical stuff, there were some real smart people and he was so scared that he was all brawn and no brain. Not that he’d readily use the word ‘scared’ to describe himself if he could help it, but he was.

But realistically, he did get this far. So he did have some of the brain, but was it enough? Had he set his sights too high on the BAU?

Still, the doubt and insecurity wasn’t going to have him quit early. Partly because he really, really wanted this, but also partly because what would he tell his family if he’d put so much time into this and failed?

They’d comfort him and say they’re proud; he knows it. But would he be proud?

He doesn’t want to find out.

Dead tired despite the lack of physical training that day, he walked through the house and out to the balcony, only part stopping to shed his jacket and backpack.

The sun was long gone by now, and the stars were too hidden in such a built up area, but he braced himself with his arms on the railing and stretched his neck, trying to relax.

God, how many people even got through the academy each year?

“Chances are, if you’re already in the academy, you’ll come out the other side.”

God?

Had he asked that aloud?

Derek just about jumped out of his skin, training be damned. He was on the top floor and roof access was blocked. He must have made some sort of noise, because the sad, quiet voice came again.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I’m not- I wasn’t… Startled.” Derek rubbed his forehead, hoping his voice didn’t sound it; startled. He wasn’t sure he’d heard that organically in conversation, more something you come across in text, in books and things.

“Oh. Sorry for assuming?” The speaker was hesitant, like they’d started apologising before they really knew why. Curious, and not thrilled someone had roof access and it wasn’t the guy (and his sister) who had the top floor apartment, Derek leaned out over the railing and twisted his neck, trying to see who answered him.

Before he could get a glimpse, he heard them step back.

How close to the edge was he? He watched as a bit of rubble fell past him and to the concrete below.

“I don’t think that’s something you need to apologise for, man. How’d you get up there, anyway? I was told we weren’t allowed because they don’t have railings. Or insurance, I think.”

“Well, that makes sense. Although a fall from a five story building isn’t guaranteed to be fatal; you’re better off on the eighth floor for that. But then again, there have been people that survived from even that height so, you can’t really win, can you? If you’re scared of heights or something.”

Derek’s curiosity took a quick dive into concern that sped right down to worry.

“Now I think you got that the wrong way around, better off on the lower floors if there’s no railing, right?”

There was a long pause, and Derek wondered if he’d be able to get up onto the roof in a reasonable amount of time if he had a sense of urgency pushing him.

“Perhaps. Can you imagine the injuries you’d be left with after surviving the fall?” He heard a foot scuff the ground above him and thought he’d started sweating despite the cool breeze. “It’d really suck to not have insurance then, huh? As the building owner, I mean.”

“Okay man, well, that’s a dark topic. And since there’s no railing, or maybe no seats up there either, why don’t you join me on my balcony instead? I might even be able to find a beer or something for you.”

“It’s not safe to go into a stranger’s house.”

“It’s not safe to think about people surviving and not surviving falls while you’re alone on a rooftop, close to the edge, and there’s no railing.”

“Well… Perhaps that’s a reasonable counterpoint.”

And that’s how Derek started becoming friends with a bundle of limbs and greasy hair that hid an incredible but haunted mind.

–

Spencer didn’t have a phone, so he’d just show up at Derek’s apartment intermittently. Well, his and Sarah’s. His mother had put money towards them renting it for the duration of Derek’s time at the academy and Sarah’s short term study since they lined up almost the same, with him likely finding some place more permanent for himself after.

He didn’t do well in the claustrophobic, shared dorms of the academy so would escape to the apartment when he could, and Sarah was completing her course close enough to make the apartment almost worth it.

It had two shoebox rooms, and they had to share a bathroom, but it still had two rooms so it was a step up from the low bar the academy set. But she was out often with friends, study, and a part time job while he was still largely sleeping at the dorm, so they hardly saw each other.

He’d come back to Spencer hanging out near the block only a couple times; he didn’t seem to like loitering, like he was concerned Derek’s neighbours would get suspicious.

More often, though, Derek would go out onto the balcony and make some sort of noise, and Spencer would respond from above. Over time, Derek was relieved to note that Spencer was usually not so close to the edge as he was the first night.

But most of the time, unfortunately, was not all of the time.

Spencer wasn’t all that interested in drinking, but he was interested in sharing whatever he’d learned about recently. He absolutely did not share much about himself at all.

Despite how private Derek felt as a person though, he found he was sharing quite a lot about himself with Spencer. It was hard not to, inviting Spencer into a place he and his sister were living in though. She’d met him in passing once or twice, and had commented after he left, thankfully, about how shy he seemed to be.

Spencer was a bit like butter from the fridge; he needed time to soften up every single time he came over to Derek’s.

His most recent obsession, to Derek's suffering, had been body farms. After finding out that Derek was studying at the academy (which he was loath to share on account of those ever-present insecurities), Spencer had told him that he was interested in criminal behaviour, among other related things.

Not in a ‘watch true crime documentaries just for the nightmares, apparently’ kind of way, but more to work out the why, and sometimes guess at the how, of everything. He’d dropped stupid time into geographical profiling, in Derek’s opinion, for someone who wasn’t pursuing a career in a related field.

“And they have one, a body farm that is, in East Tennessee. Did you know that they run ten week courses there? Something they’ve done recently is watching for changes in hair for a body left in a car for two months. That’s so specific, isn’t it? Hair changes in a car? Although it’s safe to assume they’re obviously looking for more at the same time.”

“Obviously,” Derek agreed.

Spencer was way too excited for the topic at hand.

Derek continued before Spencer went back to talking about something like maggot life cycles. “Okay, so if I get through to being an FBI agent and I see a body in a car, you’ll be the first person I call.”

“You mean when. I don’t have a phone.” Spencer’s lips had a little curve, like he was self-conscious of smiling still but couldn’t help it fully.

“Right, right. Can you tell me how to summon you then, or will I just have to come here and call out at the roof until you appear?”

Now that was definitely a smile. Why did that feel just as good as high test scores?

The next time Derek was at the apartment, Spencer didn’t show. But there was a phone number written on a paper plane that had been thrown onto his balcony. Three, actually, and one he picked up on the way to the apartment that was stuck in a sad, over-pruned and under-watered hedge out front. How many had Spencer made that Derek didn’t find?

Eleven, it turns out. Spencer was a horrible shot, but Derek liked watching his long fingers folding the paper in what was ‘the most aerodynamic plane folding method’ the next time he was over. It felt a little silly to challenge him on it, especially since Derek knew fuck all about the aerodynamics of paper planes. And Spencer called him out on it.

“Superior hand-eye coordination doesn’t mean your plane folding method is superior, it just means you’re good with your hands.”

Derek wiggled his eyebrows, but continued speaking after he let the flush of Spencer’s cheeks sit for a moment.

“So you want me to throw one of yours, to see if I can do it better with your method?”

“It’s a reasonable request. You can’t test two theories for quality results if the testing methods are different.”

“You’re a sore loser, you know that?”

“You’re an unfair winner, did you know that?”

“So you admit I’m a winner?”

Spencer felt terrible that his next plane hit Derek in the eye, so Derek only milked it for half the time he would have liked to.

Spencer shoved his shoulder when Derek finally caved and laughed, indignant.

“You were playing it up!”

“It’s paper! It can’t hurt me that bad.”

“It did hit your eye. They might be the fastest healing body part, but they’re not impervious.”

“Pretty boy, if you want to kiss it better, I won’t stop you. But you don’t need to worry that much about it.”

Derek saw that sweet rush of colour on Spencer’s neck and cheeks, and the smile he was trying to hide before now took a shy edge as he tried to look casual.

“Well, if I injured you, I should do what I can to help.”

His voice was so quiet that Derek almost missed what he said. He tilted his head in question, raising a brow while trying to figure out if this was more word-based flirting or if one of them would actually take it further for once.

Spencer’s eyes were focused on his fingers, picking at lint that certainly wasn’t on the leg of his pants but held his gaze anyway. His eyes flickered up to Derek’s face though, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips just after.

“Well, you’re the doctor out of the two of us, what do you think I need?”

“I’m not a medical doctor.” Spencer’s voice seemed to be getting quieter, but Derek liked that his gaze was flicking more to Derek’s lips now.

“Maybe so, but I bet you know more about first aid than I do, especially with that fear of germs you got.”

“Me not shaking your hand is normal. The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss.”

Derek almost laughed at how embarrassed Spencer looked at that line, but knew if he did Spencer would think he was laughing at him and might take offense.

“So I should kiss you goodbye when you leave? Doctor Reid, who knew you could be so forward?”

“That’s not what I was saying! I just-”

Derek held up his hands, placating, while Spencer seemed to flap his. “Now now handsome, I didn’t say I was opposed.”

Derek thought he was floating when Spencer, so quickly it was barely a kiss, pressed his lips to Derek’s cheek when he left that night.

–

The next time Derek heard Spencer’s voice from above his balcony, he was almost back to his subdued, distanced self from when they first started speaking. It was over an hour before Spencer let Derek coax him inside. He was shocked when Spencer came to his front door, hair lank and pulled forward to try and cover his eye and cheek that were dark with bruising.

“Spencer, what happened?” He ushered the younger man in, directing him to the couch.

“Nothing. An accident. What were you saying about the fitness test?”

“You’re not interested in fitness tests, what happened?” He tried to bring his hand up to Spencer’s cheek, tilt his head up into the light and assess the damage, but Spencer shied away from him, getting up and heading to the kitchen instead.

“I’m interested in the fitness test.”

“I’m not. Since when are you interested in that?”

“Since you’re the one talking about them.” Derek tried not to feel warm and fuzzy with that comment. Spencer was being genuine, the man was a terrible liar, but he gives away shy truths when he wants to distract.

Derek leaned against the tiny kitchen counter while Spencer turned the kettle on.

“I thought you didn’t have tea at night because of the caffeine.”

“Well, I don’t think I’ll sleep tonight anyway, so I may as well enjoy a tea.”

Derek scrutinised him, wordlessly getting a still sealed pack of decaf tea from the cupboard and putting it down beside Spencer’s hand on the counter.

“You know this isn’t truly decaffeinated? It’s just lower in comparison to other teas.”

Derek stayed quiet and watched as Spencer started to squirm under his gaze. He turned then to face Derek, a frown on his face that softened when he saw whatever emotion Derek’s expression wasn’t hiding. Concern, probably.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t use your behavioural training on me.”

“I thought I wouldn’t feel the need to with you.”

Spencer’s lips pressed into a thin line before he turned back to the kettle, mumbling. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

When Derek put his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, Spencer jumped, then looked guilty.

“Sorry. I don’t-” He looked at Derek’s hand, which he’d pulled back like he'd been burnt when Spencer flinched at his touch. “I don’t mind.” He wrung his hands, nervous or something like it and unable to look at Derek with that soft red on his cheeks again, marred by bruises. “I don’t mind. The contact, if it’s you. But I’d rather not be surprised by it just now.”

“I get it, pretty boy, and I’m sorry.” He held out his hands, palms up, for Spencer to take. Spencer’s hands shook a little, and he’d forgotten to pour water into his mug now.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, I won’t ask how you got- that.” He jutted his chin to try and gesture at Spencer’s purpled skin while his hands were occupied. “But is what I see all you have, or is there more?”

Spencer bit his lip, watching his own thumb as he rubbed it against Derek’s fingers.

“Spencer, please.”

Spencer shrugged, still unwilling to meet Derek’s eyes.

“It’s not just that. My face. It’s-...” He lifted their joined hands, but didn’t let go of Derek’s to gesture any better. Instead, he pressed their hands to Derek’s chest, just beneath the collar of his shirt, then slowly moved them down and around a little to Derek’s sides. The movement was awkward, but Derek appreciated the tight grip on his hands, and the touch Spencer was initiating, and the information being shared all in the way Spencer was capable of.

“It’s all over, isn’t it pretty boy?”

Spencer hesitated, almost nodding before deciding to try and move on. “I don’t know if I qualify for that. Not normally, or especially now.”

The shy smile was back, and too self-deprecating for Derek. But fighting Spencer on that too strong right now would push him away, so he let some of that anger slide away before he spoke.

“You callin’ me a liar, handsome?”

“No, I think I’m calling you a sweet-talker.”

“But a lying sweet talker, hot stuff?” Spencer pursed his lips as he looked up at Derek, finally, to suppress a smile.

“I’m starting to think you have a biased opinion.”

“I’m starting to think you do too, although on the other side of the spectrum. Why are you so hard on yourself?”

Spencer squeezed Derek’s hands before letting them go, turning back to pour hot water in his mug. Derek bit back a sigh when Spencer changed the subject again.

“So only two weeks before you’re done at the academy, huh?”

Throughout the night, as Spencer started melting into his more comfortable self the longer he was there, he was less aware of the bruising on his face. It wasn’t until he caught his reflection, or Derek staring, or felt it twinge when he smiled too wide, that he remembered it and grew self-conscious again. That he pushed his hair back in the way of it like if Derek couldn’t see it then Spencer could forget he was injured.

He’d foregone contact lenses and worn his glasses that night, like he did most nights, and Derek thought it might be so it felt like there was another barrier between his bruises and the rest of the world.

Derek wanted to kiss them better, and then all the other hurts Spencer seemed to have. And Spencer sure seemed to have a lot of hurts.

Hurts like how his expression tightened when Derek asked about his childhood, his parents, his friends, or his time at school. How Derek, in the earlier days, made a comment about Spencer missing social cues, and heard a bitter ‘well I can’t pick up on cues if I don’t have anyone to teach them to me’ in reply before Spencer tried to cover it up.

How if he had a particularly bad day, he was so jumpy near Derek that Derek almost wanted to sit on his hands to show he wasn’t going to use them for anything.

How on days when Spencer’s eyes were sunken with a lack of sleep, and the clothes he wore showed how thin he was, and he was so so close to the edge of the ledge on the roof above Derek’s apartment that he thought Spencer just might not care if he fell over the edge.

Like he’d had a lifetime of hurts and still had to face more each day, and Derek only saw little slivers of him and couldn’t learn enough to help him as much as Spencer needed; as much as Derek wanted.

God, he was going to make a terrible profiler.

“Derek?” Spencer looked hesitant, and Derek realised he’d spaced out; probably while staring at Spencer’s bruise again going by how he’d tried to angle his face away awkwardly, unable to fully turn and hide it while looking at Derek at the same time.

Derek couldn’t help it, he just kept on staring. Spencer’s tongue darted out to wet his lips again, and Derek’s eyes tracked the movement. He knew Spencer noticed that, too, by the way his breath seemed to stutter.

Slowly, he shuffled forward on the couch, eyes holding Spencer’s gaze as he did so.

This time, Derek’s name from Spencer’s lips was much quieter, like he was asking for something instead of questioning him.

“Spencer,” The younger man’s eyes dropped down, watching as Derek’s hand came up to his arm; his shoulder. Watched it still as it moved higher, cupping his unbruised cheek. Spencer turned his head, almost pressing a kiss to Derek’s palm as his eyes closed and his bruised cheek was fully on display.

“Spencer, I’ll be gentle. May I?”

Spencer didn’t open his eyes, just hummed in agreement, nosing at Derek’s palm.

Goosebumps broke over Spencer’s neck when Derek’s breath hit his cheek, and Derek felt him shiver. Careful to avoid the worst of it, Derek skated his lips over Spencer’s cheekbone, pressed them just in front of where his earlobe met the back of his jaw, then trailed them down his jawline.

Spencer tipped his head, allowing easier access as Derek watched Spencer’s fingers grip the couch cushion beneath him. Unsure if it was entirely due to sensation or something going on in his mind, Derek didn’t push further. Using his hand on Spencer’s cheek, he turned the man’s head to nudge his nose to Spencer’s.

“This is alright?”

In lieu of an answer, slowly, Spencer lifted his chin and kissed Derek on the lips. Derek’s chest swelled and he smiled into it, his other hand coming up to Spencer’s side.

They shuffled closer to each other, to be able to press themselves into each other more comfortably. Spencer’s mouth opened beneath Derek’s lips, and he could taste that terrible decaf tea and honey, and the cashews Spencer liked to snack on while reading.

He wondered what Spencer would think he tasted like, the cheap vending machine snacks and the god awful protein water he’d bought without realising it was terrible.

Suddenly, he had the urge to brush his teeth. He made to pull away, but Spencer’s fingers curled in his shirt and his resolve weakened.

Their hands were slowly moving over each other, everything was moving so slowly. Sweetly, like they were learning each other and had all the time in the world. Derek’s fingers found the hem of Spencer’s shirt, and he tugged the man’s lower lip between his teeth as his fingers slipped under the fabric and brushed against Spencer’s skin.

God it was soft, but it felt thin, too. He became scared of hurting Spencer, especially when remembering he had some other injuries too. So he kept his touch light, fingers probably tickling as they travelled further up Spencer’s side as Spencer laughed into the kiss.

Spencer tugged at Derek’s collar, then his fingers slipped around to cup the back of Derek’s neck. Caught up in being able to touch, they quickly moved back down, trailing over his shoulder and down his chest, then Spencer’s hands lingered there. They would have moved further down, Derek thinks, with his hands now pushing Spencer’s shirt up, if it weren’t for his sister coming home.

They didn’t realise until they heard her laugh, surprised.

“Oh, Sorry! I didn’t text ahead, my phone died. Go about your business!” She laughed again, more of a giggle, then her bedroom door clicked shut. Spencer was rigid beneath him - when had he pressed Spencer into the couch beneath him?

‘Sorry, Spence, I didn’t-”

Spencer pushed him up and off, the heat flushing his face more than the usual shyness or what Derek might expect from making out on a couch could bring about. More than embarrassment of being caught, even. He scrambled to get up and right his clothes, walking to the door and scooping up his bag on the way.

“Spencer, wait! Where are you going?” He didn’t want to pull Spencer back by catching his arm, knowing the man wouldn’t react well. His eyes seemed watery and Derek was lost.

And he stayed lost, when, after three weeks, Spencer hadn’t come back. His texts went unanswered and when he called the number was disconnected.

And he kept right on being lost when Spencer didn’t come back to visit him before he had to move out.

–--- 2005

Derek scowled at the scene before them.

“You’re saying someone was turning people into books?”

The local officer walking them through the scene nodded, nose wrinkled but face otherwise resigned.

“Yup. See, we had a couple people go missing here and there. Transients, runaways, you know the type. And we’d thought they went missing by choice. Sure, we looked,” not enough, Derek thought. “But we never thought they’d end up. Well. As books.”

“As books.” Derek’s skin crawled.

Aside from a specific wrinkle in his brow, Hotch didn’t even look perturbed. “These materials, would they be specialised? Potentially unique or traceable?”

“The tanning stuff? Not as far as we can tell. Out here, we got people doing this the normal way, tanning hides and such. A lot of leather workers out here. As far as we can tell, it’s basically all the same stuff.”

Hotch looked back at Gideon who shrugged and looked at Derek. “He’ll take a breather now that we found his workshop; he’ll need time to set himself up again. Derek, you’re going to a library to speak to someone about human skin book binding.”

Derek and Elle looked at each other before Derek held his hands out, gesturing broadly.

“We just have someone who knows about human skin being made into books?”

Elle smirked at him. “And you get to visit them. How nice.”

Derek wasn’t thrilled about it, and the feeling that his skin was crawling and unclean hadn’t left since they found the workshop their unsub was using. It reeked in both usual and unexpected ways, and the forensic investigator on scene and all too happily told him that urine could be used in the tanning process.

Perhaps a clean, quiet, library would help in easing his mind, but the subject matter wouldn’t. Derek flashed his badge at the desk, and the librarian assistant he’d found nodded without him needing to explain.

“Agent Gideon called ahead, I’ll lead you through to the doctor now. The books were already here, we’ve held them for ages, but the doctor only arrived recently. Good timing, too, what with this horribleness happening.” She chattered as she led him through shelves, picking up carelessly placed books as she went and piling them up on her other arm.

“Wait, the doctor showed up for the books after the murders?” Derek frowned; Gideon hadn’t called that far ahead, had he?

“Yes, though it’s not his first time here. He’s such a joy to have.” She looked at Derek, then laughed. “You don’t think he did it, do you?”

Derek shrugged, and she shook her head. Then, they stopped outside a room labelled ‘staff only’, and she knocked before pushing the door open.

Derek patted down his pockets for his notepad and pen, then stopped short when he looked up.

The assistant kept talking.

“So this is the doctor Spencer Reid, the veritable specialist on these books. Our Margaret, who usually cares for these books and who we’d recommend you to normally for this, she’s been unwell. But we’re lucky to have Dr. Reid here,” After that, she looked between the two, and her smile slipped into confusion.

“Do you two know each other?”

Derek swallowed, and Spencer barely moved.

“Well, I’ll just leave you two to it, then.” She cast a hesitant glance at Spencer, who nodded to her, and she seemed to take that as a sign it was safe for her to leave them alone.

“Spencer?”

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clochanamarc · 4 months

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okayokayokay but what if i added jenn.ifer ja.reau as a muse? as like, the agent assigned to keep an eye on things relating to aisling and her family? what then?

#( OUT OF SOULS. )#( i'm rewatching cm )#( absolutely nothing has given me the indication that i'm good enough at writing canons to attempt this )#( and yet i must persevere )#( also i feel like jj would just get migraines every time there's a case in manhattan )#( simply bc that diner and apartment always end up involved )#( the team: hey we always end up interviewing people over here haha why is that? )#( aisling vc: we're just v connected i guess )

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happy-hokkyokugitsune · 1 year

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Just imagine Tendou running full speed with Hinata on his shoulders, Hinata has his arms spread out like he has wings.

I hope you imagine it because it's adorable af

#they would be best buds given the chance‚ facts #Hinata is talking to someone about how awesome it is to be tall and that he wishes he had a couple more cm #and then Tendou just comes up behind him‚ throws him up there‚ and takes off with him #BFFT #and Hinata is all worried at first #but Tendou says: Now you're the tallest - While cackling #and Hinata get's his wide-eyed excited face and just yells at the top of his lungs #dang‚ I really want fanart of this #maybe I'll write a fic‚ but it's not the same #haikyuu #tendou satori #hinata shoyuo #haikyuu thoughts #headcanons

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maschotch · 2 years

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A Taste Beyond Comprehension

day six: sweet treats

part two of my “hotch is good at everything” hc. penelope’s a little jealous, but it’s outweighed (and outnumbered) by the team’s bewilderment. i tried actually writing fucking dialogue since i realized i hadn’t done that yet, so it was kind of a last minute addition. anyway. pretend this isn’t a day late

Hotch was a good baker.

Not a lot of people would’ve guessed that about him, but if you thought about it a little bit, it’s really not that much of a surprise.

It’s meticulous. Precise. Everything is about following every rule to the letter. It requires patience.

It’s right up Hotch’s alley.

Penelope was the one known for bringing tasty treats to the BAU. She enjoyed cooking for others; she would recipe test weekly, and whatever passed inspection would get mass produced and left on the break table or communal fridge. It was an irregular, but common, tradition.

Common enough that no one questioned it when a platter piled with cookies showed up one day in the kitchenette. Or the next week when a dozen pounds of fudge appeared on the counter. Or the following week when there were stacks of tupperware filled with cupcakes.

Penelope was a little confused when a passing agent would compliment her on her latest creation, but quickly brushed it aside. It wasn’t until the third week of undue praise that she asked Derek if he knew what they were talking about.

She didn’t leave the batcave often—especially when the others were out on a case—and even when she did she was either in the round table room or hovering around her friends’ desks. She rarely had reason to be in the break area, other than the times she dropped off food.

So it came as a bit of a shock to them all when she admitted she hadn’t brought anything recently. Curious, with nothing better to do and a laughable social life, they decided to attempt to ferret out the resident baker.

It took a few days of arriving hours early and staking out the breakroom (they had duos on a daily rotation: Penelope and Derek were today’s) until they finally saw Hotch walk in with a tin of brownies.

They thought they were delirious at first. The others definitely did when they broke the news. They sat on their desks in a circle, uncharacteristically silent, lost in thought as they imagined Aaron Hotchner baking. It was painfully domestic; certainly not unreasonable—they knew he had a family, after all—but such a stark contrast to their mental image of their powerful leader. It took nearly an hour for each of them to shake off their stupor and they resumed the huddle to determine their next move.

The confrontation was as boisterous as expected: not by Hotch, mind you, but by the gaggle of excitable agents tripping over each other to get into his office like crabs trying to get out of a bucket. The small room was suddenly very crowded.

“…Can I help you?” Hotch asked warily, raising an eyebrow as the commotion settled.

For once they were quiet, eyeing each other waiting for someone else to say something first. JJ was ultimately the one to muster the courage and blurt out, “Do you bake?”

It was more of an accusation than a question, and Hotch’s face remained impassive, though he felt a hint of a tug on his lips. So that’s what this was about. “Yes.”

They all knew better than to expect him to elaborate on his own. Emily shouldered her way through Reid and Morgan to stand in front. “And you’ve been bringing stuff here? To the BAU?”

Another question that wasn’t a question. Hotch simply nodded.

Penelope huffed, growing a little impatient and admittedly a little peeved that someone else—their unit chief, no less—had been providing food for the rest of the team. Good food. She’d always been better at cooking than baking, and it was a little embarrassing to be outdone by someone she forgot even ate food. “Any particular reason?” Morgan asked, smartly phrasing it in a way that would garner an actual response.

Hotch shrugged noncommittally, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. If they squinted hard enough, it almost seemed like he was smug. The nerve. “Jack’s been wanting to bake more often. He’s trying to figure out what to bring for the class party. It’s too much for just the two of us.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He could hear Emily smile more than he could see it, which should’ve been enough of an answer in itself. He knew he would be teased no matter what he said, and he wasn’t interested in encouraging them. He remained silent.

Reid, practically married to the coffee machine therefore in the break room constantly, ran through his recollections of food available in recent months. “Did you bring the sugar cookies last June?”

Hotch nodded curtly, growing tired of questions they knew the answers to. If it was possible for five people to collectively wince, they would have. They knew they would wear down his patience eventually. They probably had about a handful of questions left before he sent them away.

“How long have you been baking?”

He stared at the ceiling for a moment, silently counting. “About 25 years.”

“Oh shit,” Emily hissed quietly, earning an elbow in the gut from JJ. Though none of them could really fault her for voicing their surprise.

The interrogation continued. “Have you brought food before?”

“Yes.”

“How long have you been bringing food?”

Hotch jutted his chin towards Rossi’s office. “More in the early days. Didn’t have much time when I was adjusting to the unit chief workload. But I still do every once and a while.”

Reid was making a mental note of all the times there had been baked goods waiting in the breakroom. He locked eyes with Penelope and they silently agreed to go over the list later to check what she had/hadn’t brought and figure out what exactly their esteemed leader fed them.

“What else can you make?”

Another shrug, but this one was laced with barely perceivable exasperation. Their time was running out.

An energy sizzled in the air as they all feverishly whittled down their curiosities, trying to decide what to prioritize. It was only a handful of seconds, but with their minds were working overdrive, it might as well have been hours.

Morgan ultimately made the final request. “Will you make something for us?”

A pause. The other silently approved the question, but they feared all they’d receive in return would be a blank glare. But it was worth a shot. It opened the door for future discussions, which they knew wouldn’t go unnoticed by the senior profiler.

The next few seconds were excruciating before he finally replied. “What would you like?”

If the room was buzzing before, it was positively electric now. They turned to each other and whispered in a hushed deliberation. They hadn’t really considered the possibility that they would have options. Seemingly endless options if his vague responses were anything to go by—a known indicator of Hotch’s humility. He was likely more skilled than they previously thought. It was impossible to decide.

“Can we ask later?” They were all wide eyed, brimming with hope and practically pouting. It wasn’t dissimilar to Jack’s kindergarten class.

Hotch hummed and waved them off with one hand as he returned to the paperwork on his desk, taking care not to smile until the door closed behind them.

#cm fic #cm fics #cm writing #cm writings #once again too lazy to look up my own tagging system #curse these fall days #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #(normally i wouldn't bother tagging them all since they're barely in it but they do ACTUALLy say words so :///)#akjahglajksdf i've been reading other fics lately for ~inspiration~ and boy howdy all its doin is reminding me how bad of a writer i am lmao #i'm trying not to reread these otherwise i'll delete them #i want to COMMIT who CARES if theyre bad >>>>:(#its already humiliating enough having a dedicated cm blog. might as well post shitty fic

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