#( not going to elaborate on this much but i carry the team at work and i carry the team at home and i'm just so tired ) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heartthrobin · 1 year

Text

please love me, like the wave does the shore

aaron hotchner x female!reader

wc: 7.9k

warnings: fake!dating, SO much pining, mentions of murder, only one bed, Hotch is very whipped lol, this is so cliché it should be a crime

an: the moment y’all have been waiting for! i hope you kids enjoy! this will probably become a lil series so stay tuned for part 2 :)

summary: murders along the glistening white coast of Cape Cod was not a good look for anybody. especially not the BAU. the case needs a turn around, a big break, but most importantly: a Mr and Mrs.

Portraits of grinning faces watched you from the whiteboard.

Women’s eyes twinkling. Husband’s grinning to the camera. At their wedding, in the woods during a camping trip, on a birthday.

"We have fucking nothing!"

Names and dates lined the edges of what used to be treasured memories in red marker. Memories each couple was not around to remember anymore.

"We have the profile." Hotch's voice was stern. It made the hair on your arms stand on end.

Outside, the ocean crashed loudly against the shore. Seagulls gabbled in the distance near the dock.

"You know that's not enough."

Chatham was one of the most influential and wealthy suburbs in Cape Cod, if not the whole state. Discovering strung out bodies on the crisp white beaches almost five times that month wasn't fitting for the shoreline that housed some of the most elaborate mansions in the county.

The BAU had been in Cape Cod for nearly three weeks. Two weeks too long in the bureau's opinion: a view shared by the team.

Derek slammed his hand loudly against the white board, over a photo of a tall, cream, wood-boarded resort sprawled over the edge of the coast. Seagull's Rest: Couples Retreat and Spa.

"Seagull's Rest is the only place that connects them.” He huffed, pressing his finger into the printed photo. “Every day that passes is another honeymooning couple that's in danger."

Emily sighed somewhere behind you. David lingered by the edge of the desk where Spencer was driving his eyes over some Greek mythology textbook, working the human sacrifice angle he’d been insistent on sharing with you over coffee that morning.

Police chatter busied the space between you and the other agents.

"Morgan," you pressed, "we have no idea what that even means. It could be maids, spa staff ... for all we know, it could even be other guests."

The room was warm, bright: through the window you could overlook the ocean. A scene too beautiful to deserve the blood painted across it’s portrait.

Nights dissolved into mornings at the sheriff's station. Coffee mugs finding purchase in the maze of photos, medical reports, staff lists: all leading back to the one place all four couples were spending their vacation.

"You know what this means, don't you?" David's voice carried over from behind you. You turned to face him, his gaze set hard upon Hotch's.

The team leader's jaw was tight.

He looked like he was considering David's words closely, sucking in a breath like it hurt him to do so.

Emily's chair squeaked where she leaned forward in it, "What is he talking about?"

Hotch's narrow eyes turned to face the team again. "We need to go in. Work the case from the inside."

"Undercover?" You probed, jaw loosening in surprise.

The team hadn't worked an undercover project in almost two years. Everyone understood that they were a last resort, when general good-old detective work wasn't doing the trick.

Hotch nodded stiffly.

"We're gonna need a couple to go in. Two of us. The pair has to match the preference of the unsub."

There was a heavy quiet before a collective understanding, a collective resignation.

"Fine." Derek nodded. He turned to face the board again. "The husbands, what are we looking for?"

"Alpha males, domineering personalities." David lifted a photo off the desk, examining it closer. "All high-power careers, wealthy. They have a handle on these women. Other couple's in the course with them reported the husband being out of touch, unaffectionate."

Spencer rose to stand, "But no specific physical traits. Unlike the women, they share a specific appearance: the hair, the height, the body shape. They all look like—"

Cold passed over your whole body from the highest point on your head. Like ice water had flooded your shoes.

"Like me."

Teeth sunk into the corner of your lip, the metal taste of blood nipped at your tongue.

It was impossible not to feel the weight of the team’s gaze, how they flickered quickly between where you sat and the photos against the board.

Spencer shrugged, nodding slowly. "Yes, like you."

You chuckled softly, missing most of the humor in the situation as you sunk further back into your chair. "I guess that's settled then."

It wouldn't be your first time working undercover, but you couldn’t say you were as experienced as your colleagues.

You'd joined the BAU last, working every possible hour and chasing down every possible lead to try stay in one of the most coveted positions at the bureau.

It definitely wasn't the easiest thing you’d ever done.

Yes, the team was welcoming - Emily worked hard to make you feel at home, empathizing with you about the difficulty of transitioning into such a team: a team that knows each other's every move and every thought before they themselves have moved or thought - and Spencer was always a friendly face.

Derek was considerate and David was a genius in the line of duty, a marvel to watch work.

What really made it difficult, was Hotch.

In the beginning, he was wary of you. You could feel him lingering when you worked, every decision you made or observation you gathered was held under the magnifying glass of Aaron Hotchner.

With time, he eased up. Trusted you with more, scrutinized over less.

It was then that the next - considerably more concerning - problem began, when you began to miss having his presence over your shoulder.

When your eyes began to linger over his hands where they rested on his holster, or fixate quietly when he brought that steaming morning mug to his lips - sipping oh, so gently.

You were so sure he'd kiss with the same tenderness. The thought kept you up at night.

The feelings you so embarrassingly held for your boss were pushed deep into the corners of your brain.

You felt secure in the knowledge that you acted as casual as possible. Nobody had mentioned anything, and the thought of Hotch ever catching even an inkling of an idea would be enough to never walk back into BAU headquarters ever again.

The only person who really knew anything was Emily.

It had slipped after a drunken night out, on the couch in her apartment, your fat tears staining her blouse: "he's so fucking hot I can't do this!"

And there he was. Silhouette dark against the cast of the sunlight through the window, looking down at you from his towering height. "You're sure you're ready for this?"

His voice wrapped carefully around your throat and you almost choked on its softness.

You coughed instead. "Ready as I'll ever be."

He nodded once, turning back to Derek. "The male?"

Derek shook his head, "Rossi and I went over there a couple days ago to question the owners. They know we're FBI."

The room turned to Spencer, who blinked big hazel eyes at the room innocuously.

You did little to suppress the giggle that bubbled out from your chest. Your heart knocked loudly when you felt Hotch's eyes flicker over his shoulder back at you.

"You wanna be our dominant alpha, Reid?" Emily's lips tugged into a playful grin, clicking the end of her pen loudly.

Soft laughter permeated the room, David knocked Spencer’s shoulder teasingly.

Spencer flushed a light pink, his gaze finding purchase at the open space between his two feet. "Yes. Very funny."

It took more than a few seconds for you to realize that without Spencer, there stood only one other possible candidate.

Your eyes climbed the length of Hotch's long black blazer sleeve. When you reached the top you found him already looking at you. You shivered.

"I suppose that means it’s me then."

Purposefully avoiding his gaze, you found Emily staring right at you - a grin curling up at the corners of her mouth.

"Mr and Mrs Hotchner." David chirped, a mischievous edge to his words. "Congratulations."

You managed to squeak out a sarcastic "thanks Rossi" but Hotch stayed quiet. It made you want to sink into the crevice of your desk chair.

Instead, he turned back to Spencer.

"Get Garcia on the line. She needs to set up aliases and get us registered for the next couple's course as soon as possible."

Spencer nodded once before disappearing into the next room wordlessly.

Next, he turned to you - sucking all the breath out your lungs.

God, he made it so hard to act normal when he showed up in that fucking suit and that perfectly professional haircut.

"I want you to go over the backgrounds of the women again. Get a feel for the unsub's preference, there may be a personality type that he likes best. I'll do the same with the men." You nodded, going to stand and finding yourself always just a little too far from his chest.

"While we're away, the rest of you need to work off the intel we feed. Let's solve this before there's more bodies."

Agents began moving in every direction: out the door, back towards boxes of evidence, but Emily crossed the room to you: eyes wide and alight with mischief.

She grabbed your hand, pulling you from the room and leaving Hotch behind. "This is going to be so fucking good."

Your stomach churned.

Just shy of two days later, you found yourself sitting in the front seat of a Mercedes Benz - god knows the bureau has its ways - only two streets down from Shellshore drive, where tucked into the curve sat Seagull's Rest: the beautiful lodge on the Cape Cod coast that offered couple's courses for new and old marriages that delve into the depths of the soul and connect partners in love and touch.

At least that's what the pamphlet said as it stared up at you from your lap.

It sat at the top of the stack of case files, documents and photos hidden beneath. You pulled out the ID from the midst of the stack.

The photo you'd taken the previous afternoon glimmered up at you: Mrs Eleanor Thompson.

With less than a couple inches of space dividing you, in the driver's seat, sat Hotch.

Penelope was talking over the car speaker.

"I signed you guys up for the Honeymooner's Retreat. It's six days long, but I'm sure you'll be out by then. There are five other couples doing this course with you, you'll find their names in the documents I sent. All their records are clean."

"Garcia, I want you to cross reference all the course instructors with anybody who has—"

Hotch's voice faded from your surroundings, your brain stuttering electrically as your eyes raked over his outfit.

A tight fit black polo that was hugging his chest and chino pants begging for relief over those long thighs.

The last two days had been painful.

You'd slept almost nothing: tossing and turning for hours over the idea that you'd soon be in much closer proximity to Aaron Hotchner than you'd ever been. Too close.

Emily had tried to calm you down, "just ... focus on the case, okay? whatever happens happens."

It was easy for her to say.

Her legs didn't liquify every time Hotch sent small praise her way, like they did on you, and she didn’t have flashing images of taking care of him in the way he never does himself plague her in the small moments of quiet throughout her day.

Making him breakfast, or taking his blazer off after a long case ... undoing the buttons down his shirt—

"They're expecting you for check in at five o clock."

Your eyes found the digital clock on the dashboard, it blinked red at you: 16:47

"Thank you Garcia."

"Yeah," you added quickly, "Thanks Garcia."

"Good luck lovebirds." The teasing lilt in her voice did nothing to calm the high power washing machine your stomach had transformed to.

Heat rushed over your face.

You could feeling Hotch watching you from the corner of his eye. "Are you sure you're ready to do this?"

Sliding your stack of pages into the Louis Vutton handbag at your feet, you forced a smile to press up into your lips.

"To marry you, Hotch?" You feigned a soft sigh, "I've only waited all my life."

The bubbling in your stomach simmered only slightly when Hotch rolled his eyes, what was almost a smile teasing at his lips. "I'll take that as a yes."

The car rumbled to a start beneath you, the expensive engine purring.

"We know what to look for. Keep your eyes on the guests, the instructors, anybody we interact with."

It was hard to focus on Hotch's advice when his wide hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly.

But you nodded anyways.

It felt like less than a few seconds before the car was being pulled into a luxurious white cobblestone driveway. A sign etched in ivory-coloured wood overhead marked the road: Welcome to Seagull’s Rest.

Bellboys stood in the distance under a grand arched entrance in cream uniforms, luxury cars stretched out in every direction of the parking lot.

The car rumbled to a stop. A valet attendant was already approaching before you’d even a second to gather what was left of your courage.

Hotch turned to you, slow and deliberate as was his manner, leaning precariously over the console. "Remember, we're being watched."

The door opened abruptly on your side, you glanced up to meet the face of the young man holding open the door. He couldn't be older than twenty.

He smiled. "Good afternoon and welcome to the Seagull's Rest."

Your eyes flickered back as Hotch climbed out from the other side, you smiled up at the boy before lifting the end of the olive-green sundress you'd been coerced into wearing and stepped out.

Hotch had rounded the car before you'd even straightened out. He tossed the keys at the attendant.

You were taken aback by how quickly he could escape his usually impeccable manners.

"Be careful with the luggage. There's things in there worth twelve times your salary."

You sucked in a sharp breath when he took your hand into his, sliding his fingers between yours. His palm was pressed so firmly you thought you might collapse.

He made matters worse when he cleared his throat loudly, "Come on, honey, let's go."

The reception was a bright open room, preceded by a tall oak arch, and a high ceiling loomed over the expensive wood of the front desk.

A small framed woman stood behind it, smiling as you approached. "Good afternoon, welcome to Seagull's Rest."

Hotch only nodded curtly in greeting, pulling you abruptly up against his side so that his hand wrapped over your waist. You only hoped he couldn’t hear your heart thumping hysterically against your ribs.

"James and Eleanor Thompson." He grumbled, "We're here for the Honeymooner's Retreat."

"Of course sir, if I could see some identification please?"

Hotch slid over the two fake ID's and the woman began to tap away at the computer.

Your eyes slid up to the view from the window beyond the desk, how the sun was almost setting over the ocean visible through the crystal-clear window.

Unsure if it was driven by purpose or simply instinct, your arms snaked up to rest around Hotch's hips, letting your head lull against the side of his chest just softly.

His chest swelled. You tried not to read into it.

"Baby," it took a moment, presumable for Hotch to realize you were referring to him, but he hummed in response, not looking down at you.

"Hm?"

You motioned to the window, "Look how beautiful it is. You couldn't have chosen a better spot."

Instead of Hotch, the woman at the front desk spoke in response.

"We boast one of the best spots along our coast. The morning yoga sessions are spectacular if that's something you enjoy, and we have cocktail evening tonight at our restaurant on the beach." Her voice dripped in sugar, sliding the two ID's and the keycard to the room back over the counter.

"That sounds wonderful—"

Hotch's stern voice pierced through your own, "Yes, well, we'll see."

The woman - Leslie, as her tag suggested - glanced carefully between Hotch and yourself. She offered you a quietly sympathetic look before meeting Hotch's face again.

"Y-Yes, of course sir."

You stayed quiet after that, allowing her to direct James and Eleanor to their room. Second floor at the end of the hallway.

Hotch huffed dramatically, grabbing the cards from the desk.

His hand slid from your waist and you almost had enough time to mourn the loss of his warmth against your side before that large hand wove itself back between yours - simultaneously warming and chilling every blood vessel in your body.

Hotch pulled you in the direction of the elevator. Nothing was said between you, only the swish of your dress and the heavy step of his leather shoes against the floors.

You two followed the corridor as instructed, gaze flickering curiously up to your fake husband every few moments before your interest caught the better of you.

"You're a little too good at playing the asshole, James." Your hand squeezed gently against his, "Something you want to tell me?"

He shook his head, "Nothing comes to mind."

The luggage was already waiting at the foot of the bed when Hotch pushed the door open, allowing you to step in first.

A gasp escaped you.

The room had to be the most exquisite thing you’d seen in all your life.

It was lined in crisp white and cream decor, a velvet couch along the one wall and a sprawling balcony that overlooked the ocean - the sound of the waves filling every crevice of the space.

There was a thud and you turned to find Hotch opening his briefcase, pulling out the neatly packed pressed shirts that lay within.

"Hotch—"

Quicker than it took you to blink in fright, Hotch's hand closed over your mouth. He shook his head, tapping his ear. "Wires." He mouthed.

You nodded quickly, feeling stupid.

His hand dropped and embarrassment flushed hot over your neck. You looked away from him.

This wasn't a holiday and Hotch wasn't your husband.

Eight people were dead.

Unease burnt at your chest, the same kind that had been building with every passing day and every piling body. You moved in silent to unpack your own handbag where you'd placed your files.

Hotch watched you carefully, as you leaned over the bag - silhouette forming against the red and purple tones of the picturesque sky behind you.

He stared a little longer than necessary, capturing the view to his mind.

It was something he found himself doing too often. Whenever he could find a moment, an excuse. His gaze would linger on your frame, your face.

When your fingers would twitch against your necklace or when you laughed a little too loudly for the Quantico office when Spencer told his terrible, very specifically not funny jokes.

But he was Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit Chief, and nothing if not the epitome of professionalism.

He planted himself far enough from the line to where he could go about his day and pretend like he didn't lose sleep at night thinking about you.

"James, did you pack the charger?" Your voice was loud, but wavered slightly. You didn't look up to his face as you usually did.

Hotch tried to convince himself that he didn’t notice.

"Yes, honey, it's in the side pocket."

There was no charger and definitely no need to ask about one besides making casual conversation in the case that wires tapped the room.

Reminded of the very real circumstance, Hotch abandoned the shirts on the bed to move around the room.

Behind him you were doing the same.

He lifted lamp shades, checked under drawers, desks and the headboard for any listening device that could have been planted before they came in.

You shuffled around behind the television stand and at the railings of the curtain before slipping into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes passed in silence before Hotch climbed back to his feet from where he was crouched down under the bed frame.

"We should be in the clear." He announced to you where you still occupied the bathroom.

"Check what I found." You emerged, sundress flittering around your ankles.

He cursed the sway of the material. Somehow you'd arrived in that green dress to the sheriff's station and it had made every nerve connecting his body to his brain turn fuzzy and the man of steel that was Aaron Hotchner was having a harder time than usual keeping his eyes to himself.

You waved a white envelope at him, "It was stuck to the window."

Hotch took it from you, it was addressed to a Mr and Mrs Thompson.

"That's us." He muttered, finger sliding to break its seal.

You stood against his side, close enough to read the letter where he slid it out but also just close enough to make Hotch's head spin from the waft of your perfume.

Good afternoon Mr J and Mrs E Thompson,

We welcome you to Seagull's Rest and want to thank you for choosing to participate in our Honeymooner's Retreat. The next few days will work to strengthen the bond of love and trust between any new married couple, and of course up the intimacy!

Tonight we will be hosting a champagne evening where you will be afforded the opportunity to meet the couples that you'll be spending the next six days with.

Meet us at the Pelican Perch Restaurant on floor 1 at six o clock. We look forward to meeting you!

Kindly, Seagull Rest Staff.

The page crinkled beneath his fingers.

"This is perfect." He muttered, looking sideways at you. "It'll give us a chance to see the unsub in a social environment if he's here."

The unknown subject (unsub) was clarified before you and Hotch had left the station that morning.

David's voice still rung in his ears:

"Someone who is calm and casual in social settings, easy to get along with but holds a position that allows people to trust them. It's what he uses to lure two people at a time to their deaths."

You glanced up at the antique clock on the wall hanging above the television. "That means we should leave soon."

Hotch nodded, "Leave the packing, we'll do that when we get back."

The sun was disappearing behind the glittering ocean surface when the door shut behind you and Hotch again.

His hand slipped down over your wrist before sliding into your grasp, between your fingers and over your knuckles.

Hotch could spend all night convincing himself that holding your hand was imperative to maintaining your cover because you were married and that was in the best interest of the case, but it would still do little to calm the way his heart began to beat from his throat when your grip tightened gently around his.

You made small talk on the walk down to the restaurant, as any couple would.

Mentioning the spa and the interior designs of the glamorous hallways you passed on the walk down to the Pelican Perch restaurant on the water.

The views of the lodging was almost nothing compared to when you two walked under the green vine archway into the restaurant.

Hotch heard your little gasp beside him and was sure it made his heart grow two sizes.

Above your heads hung a glittering maze of white fairy lights overviewing a large wooden floor with tables set in every corner. The bar glittered with bottles of every colour, size and shape that lined the shelves and the wide stacking doors were opened out onto the shoreline.

A soft jazz played and near the center of the room, ten chairs were stacked in a semi-circle around a small podium.

"This is so beautiful." You whispered, almost so soft he didn't hear it.

He looked down at you, enamored by the way the lights reflected off your eyes and your lips were parted in surprise.

"It is." But his eyes never left you.

Already, three or four couples had taken seats, keening over each other as if they two were the only people in the room.

It was almost six. Hotch tugged your hand gently in the direction of the expensive looking chairs, leaning down close to your ear: "Keep your eyes on the people."

You giggled as if he'd said something naughty, putting on a good show for the surrounding guests before leaning down to sit.

The lull of the music in the room almost convinced you that it was all real.

That as you sat and Hotch settled his arm over your thighs, pulling you close against him: that it was because he wanted, not needed, to be there.

Your eyes flickered over the people, a man and a woman were ushering people to take their seats and a tall thin waiter was sauntering around with a tray of champagne glasses.

You took two from his tray, handing the other to Hotch. He gave you a look to remind you to be careful, you could practically hear him chiding "remember, we're on the job."

The champagne was as close to velvet as you'd ever tasted, sliding down your throat far too easily as the man and woman took to the podium in front of you.

The room quietened.

"Good evening to all our lovely young couples!" The man's voice was smooth, warm.

He was older, every spit of hair from his body a stark shining white. The woman was the same, they matched the decor of the resort in the cream beach sets they adorned.

Wrinkles crinkled around her eyes when she smiled, "We're so glad to have you with us. Thirty years ago, we opened the Seagull's Rest to help any couple who felt they needed a place to connect with nature and each other, and since then it's become not only a home to us - but a home to every couple who steps through our doors."

You met Hotch's eye. Owners.

Laurie and Howard Ralph. The founders of the Seagull's Rest.

Howard spoke again: "every class is taught by a qualified, friendly and helpful instructor to make you feel safe in what Laurie and I like to call the education of love."

You'd seen their photos in files and on your tablet, somehow they looked even more pretentious in person.

While you knew you weren't looking for an unsub team, their demeanors didn't put them completely out of range for being possibly responsible.

At least that's as far as your brain could conjure up with Hotch's wide thumb rubbing circles into the side of your thigh - a motion you weren’t entirely convinced he realized he was making.

"We'd like to start off the evening with a few introductions, just to break the ice between you."

They were looking down the line of people, pointing to a Hispanic couple closest to the edge. "How about you two? Tell us your names, where you're from, how you met and your favourite thing about your partner."

The man stuttered, looking to his wife for support. She smiled up at him and you couldn't help the momentary swooping ache to have somebody to look at in that warm, soft way.

"Well I'm Alice and this is my husband Marco." She patted him fondly on the chest, "We're from New York."

"We met when we were kids, we lived next door to each other for fifteen years." The husband was a shyer speaker, but his adoration for his wife leaked through his words. "Before she left for college I asked her to be my girlfriend. The rest is history, I guess."

Laurie and Howard smiled plastically, like the grin was surgically attached there.

"That's lovely, and your favourite thing about one another?" Laurie pressed, before adding, "Remember ladies and gentlemen, this experience is about making yourself vulnerable to each other and to yourself!"

"I love how he can make me feel brand new after a terrible day."

"I love the way she knows me in little ways that nobody else does."

Slowly, the couples spoke down the line.

You were introduced to the Taylors, the Andersons, the Fletchers, the Schmidts.

As the line drew shorter, your breath grew faster.

Of course you knew your story, you'd had it drilled into your brain for the last two days, but your favourite thing about Hotch?

No, you corrected yourself, not Hotch. James.

Your brain fished for a lie, dipping past the bundles of things you loved about Hotch that could so easily be picked from the bush.

But would it be so out of line to admit something honest, something he'd never even realize was true?

Eyes fell on you.

Hotch cleared his throat, his grip over your thigh tightened.

"We're the Thompsons. I'm James and this is Eleanor. We're from Colorado."

His voice was strong, stern. Someone who didn't know Hotch might say it was how he always sounded, but there he held a jagged edge to his tone. "We met at—"

"Woah, woah," Howard interrupted, chuckling nervously. "James, you're running a bit away with us here. Why don't you let your wife tell us how you met?"

Hotch mustered the audacity to look affronted. "Alright."

You fought hard to suppress a laugh. Hotch was an abnormally good actor.

He turned to you, "Darling?"

You sighed, practically scribbling ditzy airhead over your forehead and lifting a hand to fiddle with the buttons on his polo, "Well, I met James in my last year at college—"

"Screwing the professor, very classy."

The whisper came from somewhere to your left and surprised you.

It was soft enough that you were sure Howard and Laurie hadn't heard.

The look on Hotch's face, however, proved that he had. He'd grown completely stiff under your hand.

You fought to regain composure, "H-He was working at a law firm that I was doing an internship at. It was love at first sight, right baby?" You patted his chest slowly.

He nodded, eyes darting anywhere but you.

The owners nodded, urging you to continue. "That's beautiful."

You looked up, met with the side of Hotch's face - he didn't look like he was going to speak first.

"My favourite thing about James is ..." your mind flickering between some cliché or just spitting out what you really wanted to. "The way he looks out for me. Always makes sure I'm safe, even if it's risking himself."

It was mild enough to pass off for just a casual comment but nearly specific enough that if he knew how you felt that he'd catch on.

He pulled his gaze from where it was fixated on the foot of the podium, sinking it into yours and making the room feel suddenly ten degrees warmer.

"My favourite thing about Eleanor is her laugh."

It was short and sweet and deep down you really hoped it was laced in truth.

By the time you looked away from your partner, the introductions had already moved down a couple. Judging by the way the tall blonde woman who'd just announced herself as Jade Atkins was staring at you, you could already gage that she'd been the one to make the professor comment.

You could still feel Hotch's anger radiating off of him. He was hard, tense and his jaw was set tightly.

Hotch was older than you, sure. You knew that.

It was one of the things that assured - plagued - you that he would never reciprocate your feeling.

He was mature and worldly, handsome in a way no man you knew could even remotely compare.

You were younger, not that much, but still. Enough that you could be looked at sideways by stuck-up bitches like Jade Atkins.

You knew you'd never be afforded a chance ... but then why did Hotch look so angry?

He knew he was older, but he also had to know that he left a trail of swooning women wherever he went?

"James ..." you whispered.

He looked quickly down at you, clearly of the impression that it was enough of a response.

"What's wrong?"

The word looked like they hurt forcing itself from his mouth. "Nothing."

You bit the corner of your bottom lip slowly, turning over his response in your mind.

Before you could find the sense to stop yourself, you reached up and took Hotch's jaw into your grasp, pulling it down closer to your face.

Following hesitantly until he was practically leaning over, you whispered into his ear: "ignore her, she just wishes her husband wasn't a cheating alcoholic."

You pressed a warm peck against his upper cheek, close to his eye and pretended that the brush of his almost-there stubble didn't make your heart swoop down into your stomach.

Letting go, Hotch straightened out again. He looked calmer, almost like he could smile.

His eyes flickered over the man, taking in his form. It took him a moment before he whispered back, "You're right."

Within a couple minutes, the last of the couples finished their introductions and the Ralph's were speaking again.

"Thank you all, again, for coming. Please, spend the rest of the evening getting to know each other, enjoying more of our champagne—"

"Imported straight from France!" Howard interjected and the couples laughed sporadically,

"—and savor the rest of your week."

Around you, couples rose from their seats. You detangled yourself from Hotch and did the same.

Initially, you had the full intention of floating around the room together, connected at the arm to analyze the guests quietly.

However, almost immediately, the women had dissected from their husbands to form a small group by the balcony.

The men had done the same, converging near the bar.

Blinking in surprise, you look up to Hotch for further instruction.

He nods towards the women, "You should go join them."

Your face crinkled in reluctance, "Don't make me go over there, James ... our friend isn't even supposed to be a woman."

Amusement was alight in his brown eyes, but his mouth remained a thin line.

"Then," he almost made you jump when his wide hand closed softly over your cheek, dragging the side of his thumb down your face, "go enjoy the company. I'll focus on the men."

Sparked by Hotch's warm touch, slightly dizzy on it, you nodded softly before turning to the women.

It was cool out on the balcony and the women greeted when you joined the circle.

You took a long gulp from your second glass of champagne, listening only half-committed to Patricia Anderson's story about their new condo on the Los Angeles beachfront.

"So, Eleanor was it?"

Recognizing the voice as the one who'd whispered brashly behind you not more than twenty minutes previously, you turned to the woman.

Your grip tightened around your champagne glass.

"Yes. Jenna, right?"

The woman gathered the nerve to look affronted, her tennis skirt swayed with the breeze over long bronzed legs.

"Jade, actually. Jade Atkins." She cleared her throat, "My husband is Richard Atkins, he owns all the Sonja Hotels north of the equator, I'm sure you've heard of him."

Another woman - Anne Schmidt - indulged her. "That's amazing, Elijah and I stayed there a couple months ago in Switzerland."

Jade nodded, looking proud, but seemingly intent on swerving the conversation your way.

"Speaking of husbands, yours is quite the catch isn't he?" The chatter of the other women dimmed slightly, the wives sensing the change of direction.

Taking another necessarily big gulp of your champagne, you nodded. "Indeed."

"He's very handsome ... how did you manage to tie him down?"

Her words dripped in condescension.

"Just got lucky, what can I say?"

Jade nodded, twisting a long golden strand between her fingers. Heat was beginning to curl at your cheeks.

"And he's so much older," she laughed airily, lifting her glass to sip at her drink, "but I guess that life insurance money makes him all the more attractive, hey?"

"Oh definitely. He also got a huge penis which helps."

Jade choked loudly around her glass and the women around you burst into fits of high-pitched laughter.

"Don't mind her," Imani Taylor pulled you aside, "All the Botox has gone to her brain."

You smiled kindly at her.

"So a lawyer you said, what's that like?"

Across the room, Hotch was sitting through a similar game of verbal tennis.

A circus of who's car is newer, bigger, better, who's company makes more money or sells more stocks.

He doubted he'd ever been so bored. That's maybe why his eyes flickered so often to where you were talking animatedly with a short woman in a hijab.

A heavy hand against his shoulder sucked him back into the conversation.

A sandy-topped man who Hotch quickly identified as Elijah Schmidt was patting him boyishly, "Don't worry about the girl, Thompson."

He didn't love the idea of you being referred to as girl but said nothing on it.

Clearing his throat, he shook his head vaguely. "Got to keep on eye on them. She can barely feed herself most days, only knows how to spend my money and crash my cars."

The words were bitter, like hot bile on his tongue but he insisted on maintaining a mutual expression. Nobody promised that playing an asshole was going to be any fun.

A handful of the men grimaced at his comment, while the rest just tutted offhandedly.

While the men were far from the nicest he'd met, in the couple minutes he'd spent with them, Hotch was almost sure that his unsub was not among them.

Despite most of their more than patchy backgrounds - mostly corporate scuffles, dug up by Garcia - none of them spoke with the ease that the suspect needed to have, the charisma and the trustworthy character. Hotch's energy was better placed elsewhere.

"Barely feed herself?" A gravelly chuckle filled the space, "Sure doesn't look like it."

Hotch's eyes narrowed on the short bald man laughing to himself, glancing over to where you stood across the room - a fat cigar between his fingers.

He recognized him as the man who sat with the woman who'd commented when you spoke. Richard Atkins.

Turning his whole body to the man, towering over his structure, Hotch's face twisted - his stomach contents boiling hot at the comment.

"I beg your pardon?"

Pulling at the cigar, the end lighting up, the man shrugged. "Just saying, y'know, she doesn't look like she's skipped a meal anytime recently—"

The expression curling onto Hotch's face must've been cause for alarm, if not the way his fist tightened at his side, because almost immediately two other men stepped in.

One at Richard's side, "Hey, hey, Richard, that's enough man."

The other patting Hotch's shoulder, "Thompson ... he's had a couple drinks, just let him go."

Richard seemed to find the situation amusing because he was chortling still to himself. "Of course, of course. My bad, just locker-room talk you know. No harm, no foul."

Seething white anger was tugging on every muscle in his body, and he fought hard to maintain composure - taking a cautionary step towards Richard Atkins.

"I'd watch how you talk about my wife if I were you. Otherwise we're going to have a problem."

Atkins only huffed, turning back to his friend and his cigar. The conversations started up again around him, but Hotch had lost interest.

His wrist watch told him they'd been standing there for almost an hour.

Cleaning out the bottom of his glass, he set it down on the nearest table before excusing himself, offering handshakes and a couple shoulder pats before moving towards the women.

A handful of men followed him, clearly keen to leave as well.

He found you by the railing, laughing gently at something the woman across from you said.

Hotch's arm slid over your waist from behind, dipping his head closer to your ear: "ready to go?"

You nodded, offering a quick goodbye to the woman and some others.

The walk back to the room was quicker than he remembered, or maybe it was the light buzz of champagne against the side of his head and how you were humming something that sounded like Etta James that made it feel too fast.

On return, the prospect of unpacking awaited.

"Anyone interesting among the husbands?" You asked from across the room, lifting shirts and dresses to stack into the open cupboard.

Hotch shook his head, dislodging the secret compartment at the bottom of his suitcase where the case files had been hidden. "The unsub isn't one of them. They're all, for lack of a better word, assholes. Nobody trustworthy enough to follow to your death."

You chuckled lightly, "The women were alright. Except for this one woman, that one who whispered that rubbish when we introduced ourselves."

Hotch's stomach turned at the thought of the woman's words. Screwing the professor, really classy.

The implication on your character made his blood boil.

"Let me guess, Atkins?"

You nodded, "How'd you know?"

"Her husband's a real piece of work too. I'm gonna find something to arrest him for before the end of the week."

Your giggle permeated the space and it worked to ease the knot in Hotch's stomach.

"Don't be so dramatic, James." You draped a towel over your arm, "Mind if I grab the shower first?"

"Of course." Hotch nodded, desperately trying to fan out the image that was quickly rendering in his mind of you in the shower. "I'm gonna phone Garcia."

The bathroom door clicked behind you and you sighed into the emptiness of the room.

You took your time showering, enjoying how the hot water eased the tension over your shoulders, before drying off and slipping into the most appropriate pair of pajamas you'd brought along.

It took some convincing to let yourself pack the silk shorts and tank top, after all: you would be sharing a room with your boss.

Quickly after you'd walked back into the room, Hotch had slipped into the bathroom himself with a towel and pair of pajamas hanging over his arm.

Images of all the people you'd met that very evening sifted through your mind like a deck of cards, flipping through them and filtering the ones you knew couldn't be involved.

The spray of the shower was loud and your mind reached precariously for an image of what Hotch looked like under the fancy head in the shower that had more than enough space for two ... how the hot water was probably gliding over his long strong arms, down his chest and through the happy trail at the base of his stomach leading down towards—

The water shut off and silence echoed across the room.

You heard shuffling behind the door, wondered quietly what he could be doing, but pulled your eyes back to the case file.

The list of connections between the victims and current guests were numerous, too many to be significant as people in this wealth category generally moved in similar groups.

The door clicked open.

"Put that away, you should get some sleep."

"I—" You looked up to meet Hotch's eye and almost swallowed your tongue.

His hair was still wet, drooping over his forehead in a way you'd never seen before, and his blue t-shirt stuck to his chest with dampness. He wore plaid shorts that exposed those long legs that had been so criminally hidden beneath his usual suit pants.

He looked so ... domestic, and it set every nerve ending in your body alight.

"I ... yes, boss. Was just looking." You set the file on the bedside table.

He nodded at you, a warm look on his face. "Want you well rested for tomorrow."

There was a short silence and the look cleared from his features to be replaced by another.

Hotch's eyes flickered between the bed and the couch, and for the first time in more than a while, a look of unsureness occupied his face.

"I ... I think I'll take the couch."

Your heart sunk.

"Why?" The question chased its way out of your mouth before you could reach to snatch it.

"I don't wanna make you ... uncomfortable, considering I'm your superior."

"I mean, the bed is plenty big enough for the both of us, Hotch." You stammered, desperate to be close to him. "It's probably gonna be painful to sleep on that couch anyways."

He hesitated.

"U-Unless you think it's weird, you can sleep on the couch it's fine." You wished you could sink into the sheets and disappear.

But to your surprise, Hotch nodded.

The bed sunk on his side as he lifted the covers, as close to the edge as he could from what you could see.

His head hit the pillow before he leaned over to flick off the light, you took it as a sign to do the same.

There was quiet for a long moment.

The door to the balcony was open, it was just too hot to close it, and the breeze curled over the sheets, wafting the smell of Hotch's shower gel into your face.

It took all you had within you not to sigh loudly and dig your face into his neck.

You thought the conversation had closed for the evening, but Hotch surprised you when his voice emerged from the darkness.

"You did well today. I know you were nervous."

A smile tugged at your lips. He could read you better than you thought he could.

"You've got a lot more practice at the husband thing than I do at the wife thing."

You could almost see the outline of his face against the light of the moon.

"Well, I hope this wife ends up better than the last one."

The memory of finding Hotch's ex-wife's body came starkly into view.

"O-Oh, Hotch." Your hand came to your face in embarrassment, "I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have—"

"Hey, hey," he stopped you, "it's my fault. It was a bad joke, I shouldn't have made it."

You couldn't help the small giggle that escaped you, "I've never heard you freestyle a joke before, Hotch."

"Wasn't good?"

"It was terrible." You managed around the now growing laugh.

"And yet you're still laughing. Isn't that the goal?"

You shuffled over in the sheets to face him, even though you couldn't see much - the thought that he lingered there in the darkness comforted you.

"Not at that really bad attempt at a joke, I'm laughing at you."

Maybe it was your imagination, but you swore when the light from the lighthouse flickered quickly over Hotch's face that he was grinning.

"I'm glad I amuse you."

"Come on Hotch, you're telling me you don't have a single good dad joke?"

He was quiet a long moment, and for a second you thought you'd pressed too hard.

"Why do you never see elephants hiding in trees?"

Absolutely surprised by the question, you shook your head in the darkness. "Why?"

"Because they're really good at it."

The light from the lighthouse hadn't passed over his face again but now you were sure he was smiling and every muscle in your body twitched to grab his face in the darkness and kiss him until he was oxygen depleted.

"That's the worst joke I've ever heard, Aaron." But you shook with small laughter.

"Worse than the dead wife joke?"

"Okay, maybe not that bad."

Quiet fell again.

"You should go to sleep. We've got a long day tomorrow."

Fishing for the sheets, you lifted to tuck them under your chin. "Goodnight James."

"Goodnight."

Tags:

@montyfandomlove @aurorastuffsstuff @cdizzleswzzlebonzy @pureblood-blake @kad00x @lena-1895 @marimorena06 @farrah-444

#Aaron Hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds #fake dating #criminal minds fanfiction #Spencer Reid #emily prentiss #David Rossi #Derek Morgan #penelope garcia #only one bed #mutual pining

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matchesarelit · 1 month

Text

Imagine If You Will... Just Us (Lars Pinfield X gn!Reader)

Prompts: “I thought it was going to be just us today” from @pookie-and-cereal's list (here) AND #17, #28 and #30 from @thelonelyempath's list (here).

W.C: ~3k

Warnings: Gary gets typical 3rd wheel treatment, science flirting (it's real bad),

Coming back from Ray's, your arms were killing, turns out hiking over an hour over public transport with more than ten kilos of, for a lack of a better word, junk, was not the brightest idea. Lars had texted you late last night, gushing over the newest adaptions he'd make to the extractor; how much time was saved on every use, how low the resistance rate was etc.

So naturally, when he invited you to come in on the weekend to try it out, your reply could have broken the sound barrier, if it weren't a text that is. You weren't exactly in his realm in regards to ghostbusting science, now don't get me wrong you did ghost bust on occasion, but your main focus was on the PR end of Ghost Corps. Yes, it is a very stressful job. That being so, you weren't sure why he'd chosen to invite you, surely another scientist would be able to understand it better.

Well, who truly cares... you were getting the rare chance to witness his dorky joy and that was not something you were going to turn down.

Finally trudging in through the main doors, you let out a grievous grunt as you dropped the box of trinkets onto a nearby trolley. Tugging it along behind you as you made your way to the main lab, you waved as you always did towards the enclosed ghosts in the hallway. Finally setting sights on the elaborate workspaces of the many scientists that work crammed into the space, you allowed your smile to overtake your features, eager as always to see Lars in his natural environment.

You'd first met when you stated on the G.C PR team, you'd been eager to set up a web page for the Ghostbusters with a page profile for all involved scientists. Winston had had you meet them all here in the lab, Lars was one of the first you'd met and you'd gotten along immediately.

"Heyo! I think you're gonna have to send Ray a gift basket with the amount of stuff he gave us-" Your rattled-out greeting was cut short as your eyes fell on the pair of men huddled by one of the desks. As they turned to greet you, you felt your steps slow, the air felt dense against your movements. Lars had forced out a smile that had no hopes of reaching his eyes, while the man by his side, Gary Grooberson, seemed to be dripping in ecstatic energy as he jogged over to meet you by the steps.

As he lifted the front end of the trolley and helped you carry it down, your eyes fell back on Lars, he was once again facing away from you and he'd retreated to the large mechanical focus of your visit. His hands were busy doing, what even you could tell from across the room, was absolutely nothing.

Cutting your study short, Gary captured you in a hug, it was as it always is; warm and comforting and definitely more for him than it was for you. You had time and time again succeeded in putting a good spin on whatever ruckus his family had created, so he was by no means a new acquaintance, neither was his proclivity for hugs a surprise.

Gary's greeting however flew right past your ears, tearing your focus away from the man on the other side of the space was proving much too difficult. To your luck however, you managed a gentle greeting and casual inquiry of how his family was doing before a notable amount of time had passed.

With a conscious effort you set your eyes on Gary, resolved to focus on the conversation at hand, the man before you was a friend after all. As the conversation continued, small updates about how the Spenglers and co were doing outside of the ghost busts filled the next half hour, before the dialogue began to stall.

Until, Gary, ever the extrovert, started to rifle through the box you'd brought in,

'So, are you as excited for today as I am? It sounds like Lars has been making absolute leaps and bounds with this stuff.'

Now, you wouldn't say you were projecting your voice when you spoke up, nonetheless, it definitely wasn't a normal speaking level. 'Yeah! I can't wait to see what he's been up to...' You trailed off as you glanced towards where Lars still stood, his back to the two of you but his hands had now stilled in place, a change you all but reveled in.

Lars wasn't a guy who enjoyed being alone all to much, you'd been able to gather as such within moments of meeting him. Luckily, that first time, you'd caught him on a good day; when talking about his work, rather than doing it, was pretty much exactly what he wanted to do. He'd tried to come across as a sort of stoic and while it was clear he did enjoy the solitude, the way he interacted with his peers made it crystal clear how much he also enjoyed such conversations.

That was part of why his actions today seemed so strange... You weren't exactly his peer as a scientist, but you knew enough about ghosts and he'd shared similar achievements with you in the past, not to mention the fact that he, himself, had invited you here only last night.

As for Gary, he was a scientific man himself, so why the Lars wasn't chatting happily with him about the newest changes to the mechanism was a mystery to say the least.

You'd hate to admit it, although it wasn't hard to notice by any means, you'd obliviously thought it was just going to be the two of you. So it took some quick metal re-wiring upon realizing you wouldn't just be able to fawn so freely over the unsuspecting scientist as you often did.

In that moment you'd felt bad, noting that both of you were acting strange and that that couldn't have been too fun for Gary.

Although... you considered perhaps Lars was simply overthinking his progress, now that his audience was present. Maybe he just needed a little push to start, like one of those old timey planes.

'Lars' Your call cracked through the silence of the facility, your voice finally tugging the man in question to turn on the spot. 'Come on Science-man, show us what you've got!'

He shook his head slightly in a sort of incredulity as he turned back around, your shoulders fell slightly, but only momentarily as his voice soon bounced around the room.

'Come on then'

Your eager smile reappeared on your face as you beelined towards the large prism like container in the middle of the workplace, where he stood hitting, what you could only assume, were the start up buttons. Your eyes on him, and his eyes on the machine -with you safely in his peripherals- Gary was left to wheel over the box of supplies. His mumblings of something about third wheeling and losing his phone, all but faded to oblivion in your focus.

Stepping back from the small panel and towards yourself and Gary, Lars seemed to pause for a moment, glancing once between you and his chair that sat empty by the control screen. You brushed off the look he'd given as he began to speak, as a mutual offer between him, yourself and Gary, You'd chosen consciously however, to not plop down in it yourself.

Strangely, claiming his seat whenever he stood from it, felt like something you could only do in private, although it usually occurred when ten or so other scientists also occupied the space. You suppose, sitting there; your head in your hand, as you gawk up at him was a lot more obvious when the only other person in the room would be standing mere feet away.

Whilst you turned your own thoughts over in your head, Gary had taken the chair for himself, muttering out a cheeky, 'ya snooze ya lose'. While you were still mulling things over, Gary caught what you didn't; a flash of a glare passing over Lars' features as he paused his explanation.

Choosing to remain comfy, Gary shot the younger scientist a simple smile, before tilting his head in your direction. With one look to you, your in-your-head state was obvious and Lars was talking a step towards you, your name a whisper on his lips.

Snapping out of your thoughts, and meeting his eyes, you immediately rushed out an apology running shaky hands down your face as you promised to listen closely.

From there it was somewhat business as usual, Lars went about explaining his changes, with yourself, and Gary, asking prompting questions every once and a while. You'd resolved to simply enjoy his company as you usually would, extra company be damned. Sorry Gary.

Gaping up at him in the way you always did, you were yet again in awe of Lars. The way his eyes shone a little brighter when the machine worked perfectly and how he would always look eagerly to you a soft smile on his face. Ghost by ghoul, the three of you went about testing for a while, with Lars occasionally ducking his head towards the wiring or control panel to make some small adjustment, only to return with a beaming smile when the following test went by even faster.

Watching him work was always enjoyable. He was always either grinning like a fool or he had that small frown and furrowed brow that graced his features in a moment, usually quite brief, of struggle. All the same, even that echo of a scowl wasn't enough to diminish the glow you swore he gave off. Today was slightly different, there was no lab coat in sight, his goggles hung loosely around his neck and the top half of his jumpsuit had been tied 'round his waist. He seemed relaxed, at least if you ignored the tension that seemed to be holding his body together.

'Amazing' your murmured comment, and the countless like it, were more about him than his machine and whenever you caught his eyes with your own, you hoped he could see that. Gary, on the other hand was completely enthralled by the testing, rattling off compliments of his own with much higher frequency, mentions of the 'stellar efficiency' and 'innovative programming' which, I'm sad to say, went in one ear and out the other. Except, for when he managed to interrupt you in the midst of his enthusiasm, at which point he was met with yet another brief glare from the man of the hour.

The setting sun that bathed the three of you in warm tones of orange and yellow took you by surprise, and a quick glace to the box by your side revealed you had powered through more than three quarters of your supplies. You felt your shoulders fall considerably at this thought, now achingly aware you'd be expected to leave somewhat soon. Shocking you from your melancholy was the loud ring of Lars' phone, some 8-bit version of the Ghostbusters theme you'd set up on his phone some time ago, echoing about the space.

He hurriedly excused himself, and unwitting as usual your eyes lingered on the doorway he'd left through. Until a clambering of legs swung into your own, following them with an eyebrow raised you met Gary's stare as his own eyebrows wiggled fancifully. 'Soooo... I'm gonna get going, Callie just texted-' Catching him in a squinted glare you doubted '-didn't you say you'd lost your phone?'

'um-uh, okay so I'm just a little aware that you guys want to be alone.' His tone was anything but unsure, nevertheless he seemed hesitant to voice his concern.

'No don't go, I'm sorry I-I know I get a bit absorbed seeing him work, but he wants you here!' You'd felt horrible, you weren't aware how obvious you'd been.

'Its okay, I know you didn't mean to... Also I highly doubt Lars is all that happy about me being here.' You opened your mouth to argue but he shook his head simply as he continued. 'Winston invited me after Lars let him know he'd be here today, He didn't know until I got here and that half an hour before you arrived was tense enough.'

You supposed he was right, Lars had seemed pretty off earlier, but surely it wasn't that deep that Gary should leave. 'That's silly though, you're a scientist, if anyone is annoying him by hanging around surely its me... I mean I was asking all those inane questions.'

Your concern was met with the most well meaning, yet still a bit of a brush-off, cackle you'd heard from him, 'Except every one was met with a soft explanation and a confirmation that you understood, which wasn't exactly the response I've been getting. I doubt today was meant to be about the science as anything more than as a justification for inviting you over.'

Your brow furrowed at that, yourself and Lars had hung out before, you supposed it wasn't too frequently and it was usually a work outing where the two of you peeled off for a bit. Even so, why would he feel like he had to justify inviting you over?

'But we're friends, he knows he doesn't have to-' you stopped yourself as his footsteps reverberated through the halls, growing closer by the second.

Mid-way through turning your head to catch the doorway, Gary darted out of his chair. Stealing back your attention as he addressed yourself and you supposed lars, who you could imagine had stopped, lingering at the end of the hall at the other man's outburst. 'I've gotta get going, great seeing you guys... Good luck with the rest of the testing...' He was backing away now, towards the entryway, maneuvering around stray chairs and tables as he went. With a final flourish of a finger gun in Lars' direction, he was crossing the threshold and calling back over his shoulder. '...Not that you need it!'

You found yourself scoffing in disbelief as you continued to watch as the doors swung closed with a slam. Slowly turning on the spot you set sights on Lars. He was making his way over to you, shoulders still higher than usual, tight due to, as far as you could ascertain, the dramatic exit of the older man. Reaching out, you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. As the slight weight of your hand settled on him you noted the relaxed fall of his shoulders, a sigh falling from his lips. Content with the slight ease in his demeanor you gave a slight squeeze and a hum of your own.

'So, should we get back to it?' Lars nodded, but otherwise remained completely still until you elected to remove your hand, at which point he spun on the spot and traipsed back over to the machine with a vigor that'd been notably absent all day.

Narrowing your eyes at the man in front of you, you watched as he returned to his regular As Seen On TV type demonstration. Now, with a pep in his step that you always found almost too intoxicating he placed a new object inside the chamber, closed it and started towards the computer.

'Hey, Lars? Can you level with me on something?' you hated to see how his movements stuttered to a halt at your vague interruption, but the question fell from your lips before you could think, 'Do you not like Gary?' His gaze seemed to flutter about the space, until his eyes were screwed shut, a shaky hand messing through his locks as his jaw dropped open, dancing silently in the nonexistent wind until you fixed him with pointed look and he suddenly found some words.

'I don't dislike him he's just very- He's smart it's just- its just that...' he trailed off, seemingly deciding to communicate through a jumpscare like gesture of his hands.

'He's very eager?' he nodded, glad you gotten his meaning, but he stilled when your head tilted ever so slightly.

'So am I.' With that thought your eyes had drifted from his, not shyly to the ground but dazed, as if fixed on some invisible specter only you could see. Your mind grew harsh faster than you'd care to admit, retroactively scanning every interaction with him against some intangible measure of frustration. There were surely times your presence slowed his work, distracting him with conversation or absurd what if's, not to mention the plethora of what you now realized must have been idiotic questions.

Surely he'd been speaking while you re-considered your very existence, but it wasn't until you felt the warmth of his hands on your shoulders that an ounce of sound managed to reach your brain.

'Hey, you okay there? You-you went blank on me.'

'I-um yeah -I just...' You had no clue what to say, how could you? Yeah sorry I was just thinking about how insufferable I must be to you, that came with a little spiraling as a treat.

Gathering that you'd most likely missed his in depth explanation of the difference between yourself and Gary from his perspective, Lars stepped away from you, considering the best way to dissolve the tension evident on your features. 'You and I, Us, we're not just colleagues, you don't just come to me to get new gadgets or answer some question you have... even if you do have a few. We're... something else, but when he's here its like he's extracting facts and figures, all the while you're just trying to understand me, m-my work. Its not his fault I- just I-'

'-Thought it was going to be just us today?' Cutting off his rambling you finally met his eyes. He shrugged nodding slightly as he held your gaze. 'If it makes it better?.. it is now.'

He released a bemused hmmf. 'I'll admit I wasn't the biggest fan of having to fight for your attention today. I'm pretty glad it is just the two of us again. Splitting your focus between me and my work is as much as I can handle.' Shaking your head in amusement at his sudden bluntness, you stepped towards him, a gentle hand against his chest, the eye contact mere inches long as you stood in his orbit.

'You are so oblivious... Trust me Lars there was not a moment that you weren't the nucleus of my afternoon.' A light groan was his only response to your overy-cheesy claim. 'No? what about...' you thought for a moment, tapping a finger to your chin.

'I'm much too weak to resist the gravity of your presence.' he narrowed his eyes at you own, looking for something you couldn't distinguish.

'Is that why you're in so close? My pull is too strong?' He didn't bother to cover the roll of his eyes or the teasing tone in his voice, but the smile that was paired with them was comfort enough to keep you talking.

'Mhmm You're just too enthralling Pinfield, you're gonna have to work on that if you want other people to be able to stand being around us'

Amidst all his scoffing and modest smiling, the blush that spung up across his cheeks was a sight for sore eyes, as his head lowered and he whispered into the paper thin space between you his tone even and resolute;

'Who says I'd ever want that?'

#lars pinfield x reader #lars pinfield #ghostbusters frozen empire #gbfe #ghostbusters

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theheirofthesharingan · 3 months

Note

Okay, sorry if this was asked before but I'm curious and I'd really like to learn more. You've mentioned in a couple of posts now that Itachi wasn't retconned. Could you please elaborate further?

Hey! No, this wasn't asked before. I was thinking of making a separate post for this, but procrastination is evil. So, I am one of the 'Itachi was meant to be a good guy/was not evil/had more to him than he let on' people. Watching the anime, it was the feeling that there was more to him. His reveal was along the lines of devastation and shocking for me than surprise. Detailed post is below the cut.

First thing first.

This was Itachi's first look that Kishimoto had planned.

Itachi was originally conceived as the leader of Konoha's Special Assassination and Tactical Squad called the "Anbu", dubbed the Itachi Squad (イタチ隊, Itachi-tai), which would have been a 70-man group divided into four teams, specializing in assassination and other illicit operations. However, this idea was scrapped in favour of the current Itachi working for the Akatsuki.

The above paragraph is from Itachi's wikipedia that cites a couple of interviews as sources. People can't be too blind in their delusion to think the author who wrote the story had no idea what he was writing.

Next is the Naruto Databook that has some fishy things if we look closely. In the first glance it's not very obvious, but after learning the truth it seems very much obvious.

It says, "the ones who know the reason of its downfall are very small". Go back to Obito's words about only four people being aware of the reason of the clan's downfall.

Additionally, Itachi carried out 134 B-Rank missions. Zero A Rank. And one S-Rank. The S rank mission being the Uchiha massacre. It's very fishy that he was given one s rank mission without any A tank mission. Suspicious? We know later on why.

It's also interesting because the first databook was published in 2002 and Itachi first appeared in 2003. If his twist wasn't planned from the beginning this databook is very telling.

Since I mentioned how he looked, here's him in Sasuke's flashbacks for the first time.

He looks far from evil or sadistic. You want to know who enjoys killing for fun? Hidan. Itachi, on the other hand, on the day of the massacre itself, looks miserable and lost.

In chapter 7, he in a haze-like manner he talks about crying. In many English translations it's translated as 'he made me cry' and in many it's this. It's very, very vague, but his statement is complimented by Sakura's question, to which he still responds in the similar way 'My..' Maybe he was trying to say 'My brother', but he instead finishes his speech with 'my goal is to take revenge' etc., Since it's still very early so it might not be the strongest evidence, but a few chapters later in chapter 27, during their fight against Haku, when Sasuke awakens his Sharingan, he has two tomoe in his right eye.

Yes, he might have awakened it this way, but it also suggests that maybe already had his Sharingan and that's why this is 'asymmetrical' awakening? In the later chapters we find out he actually did have his Sharingan he awakened after the massacre.

This flashbacks in chapter 127 most firmly establishes Itachi's twist. The tilted head-protector. Sasuke remembers it vaguely, but he has no recollection of Itachi crying that night, because his mind is still hazy from the "truth" Itachi wanted him to believe. We know later on the significance of this scene.

There are three moments before Itachi was even introduced that give away what we see right after his truth reveal and connect to the chapter 403.

The 'Itachi was retconned' camp also uses 'Itachi was meant to be older (than 13) but Kishi made him younger later on' as an excuse to justify their retcon bullshit.

Kakashi, in chapter 142, states Itachi was 13 when he was made the Anbu captain.

Itachi graduated when he was just seven. Sasuke is the same age as Itachi was when he graduated from the Academy. Itachi is 17 at the time of his first appearance and Sasuke is 12. It is enough to tell lies were spread about Itachi. We, obviously, learn later on why.

Some more obvious hints were his interaction with Asuma, Kurenai, and Kakashi.

The criminal infamous for annihilating one of the strongest clans refuses to indulge in fight?

He also asks Kisame to keep things low key and not get too much attention. That's an excuse. He's not here to wage war. Yes, later on he does ask Kisame to go ahead. But that's because he's a spy. He cannot let Danzo know he dropped his guard. One single mistake from his side that could unearth the truth of the massacre and Danzo would lay hands on Sasuke. Plus, while he's strong, his opponents aren't just fragile saplings who couldn't stand any blow he or Kisame cast. He knew reinforcements would be on the way.

Kakashi also wonders why Itachi didn't just kill him. Again, yes, the torture was brutal, but they're ninja who are meant to do and endure cruel things. Itachi had to look like he was a menacing criminal reputed to have killed the Uchiha singlehandedly.

So, he completely avoids fighting Asuma and Kuernai, takes on only Kakashi because he's strong and can take it, also has Sharingan. But he completely refuses to go against Jiraiya. Jiraiya may or may not be stronger than him. Maybe they were equal. However, recalling Obito's words again: Itachi devoted himself to fighting Sasuke to death.

Two conclusions come from this:

He didn't want to fight Jiraiya because it would result in a massive bloodbath and killing a leaf Shinobi is out of question for him. He's not a coward. He just doesn't want to fight him.

As we know from later on, he wanted to fight and die at Sasuke's hands only. Killing a Konoha Shinobi or dying at the hands of someone that isn't Sasuke isn't a part of his plan.

This can also be tracked further when Kisame captures the Four Tails.

Kisame most likely knew about Itachi's illness, knew Itachi wanted to die at Sasuke's hands. The reason Itachi didn't fight Jiraiya and Rōshi was most likely the same.

Kisame comments on Itachi's 'lingering affection' towards the village. The Akatsuki pairings' dynamics are quite opposite. Deidara and Sasori love art but have differing opinions on eternal vs explosive. Hidan and Kakuzu represent religion vs materialism (money). And Itachi and Kisame represent treachery vs loyalty. Itachi isn't loyal to Akatsuki, Kisame is.

They also wonder why is Itachi taking the matter of kidnapping Naruto so lightly. He could have done it very easily. We know now that that wasn't his intent and his objective to visit the village was something else.

As popular as 'Itachi knocked on the door before kidnapping Naruto' meme is, the truth is, he wasn't there to kidnap him at all. Replace Itachi with Kisame alone for a moment. Knock on the door? No, sir. Naruto would be half-dead. Or replace him with Hidan and Kakuzu. They're sadistic bastards and would have damaged Naruto in the worst possible way.

Furthermore, when you think of it, he revealed 'Akatsuki are after jinchuriki' years prior to the Akatsuki even began collecting the tailed beasts. It was a message he left because it was important. His job in the Akatsuki wasn't to "pass on the info to the village." It was to keep tabs on them so they don't attack Konoha.

After the massacre, Sasuke's unwavering faith in Itachi despite being put in Tsukuyomi. At first it doesn't seem too much, but we later discover that Itachi used to be a kind and gentle boy. So this bit isn't just Sasuke is blind, but also that Itachi was a kind child before the tragedy happened.

Sasuke's flashbacks in chapter 220 also hint towards Itachi being trapped in the politics of the village/clan. Fugaku is speaking to his own son but the discussion is so intense that he has to activate his Sharingan to convey the message to Itachi.

These are the flashbacks from the chapter #221 that further shed light on Itachi being a spy.

He's the "pipeline between the clan and the village" - a spy. Later Obito says Itachi was callously used for his devotion towards the village, this is an example of his clan doing this to him.

This is Itachi right after being accused of Shisui's murder. He looks in grief, while also processing the news. Once the narrative delves deep into Itachi's story (through Sasuke's eyes) in VOTE1, he continues to look miserable, lost, in pain, and in dire need of help. And once we begin to see more of him before his death, he is quite human. But again, Kishimoto had his whole story figured out by that time, knew what he was to do with Itachi's arc and Sasuke's future there.

_______________

Kishimoto isn't a terrible writer because some people choose to ignore what's written right there or cannot accept happened. Usually the deniers of this are those who question his morality. His morality is never the subject of the debate because Itachi isn't exonerated for his crimes. He's a part of a world that's cruel and violent and his actions align with it very much. The ones who "praise" him have their own bias, and that gives him nothing in return. Characters in fiction always, I mean, always respond to the information based on their morality. When Hashirama praises Itachi, it's because he grew up in the warring era and lost all his family. He learns there's this kid who chose a path with the least damage but at the cost of his life, he's a good Shinobi. Hiruzen also has his bias as well as his guilt. Naruto's praise for Itachi is not only because of stopping a war, but also for loving Sasuke. No one other than Sasuke sees him as a person whether anyone likes him or hates him. He's praised by other Shinobi for doing things that are expected from a Shinobi.

Either way, at the end of the day, Itachi himself doesn't see himself who is worth forgiving, worth loving, worth being remembered. That's his whole arc.

Some things above in the post I took from this thread. Some information I ommited from it, so feel free to go through it, please.

#itachi #itachi uchiha #uchiha itachi #akatsuki #kisame #ask #anon #this was a very important ask

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venomous-ragno · 1 year

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I've posted these before but Tumblr's tag system is buggy so it's not showing up for ppl, which is a shame cause if this dynamic rots my brain y'all have to suffer with me

Ghost x reader x Soap headcannons

I take requests btw;)

Tags: Ghost x reader x Soap, sfw, gn!reader, fluff

Warnings: None

Gif by @collinnmckinley

• Brothers in arms, these two have developed a bond that goes deeper than that of just any comrades. They work like a machine, gears oiled and intertwined, always moving forward and further into unknown territory.

• Ghost and Soap aren't romantically involved, but they don't mind it if it's the other. Both know and respect the other's boundaries; Gaz once called them psychics for understanding each other without so much as words exchanged.

• Their lives are anything but conventional so why shouldn't their relationship be too? It's a strange idea, sure. Much to your surprise though neither seemed taken aback or even shocked at the suggestion - not in the slightest, for they agree on more things than they disagree on.

• If you ever go on a mission with them and the team gets split up, both Ghost and Soap would find solace in knowing you're with the other, that you're well protected even in the face of death.

• Ghost and Soap are two different types of love; Ghost is more of a calm, quiet lover. No big words or pda but rather small acts of service and quality time. Ghost remembers all your quirks, all your likes and dislikes by heart. He prides himself in knowing you better than anyone else, reads you like an open book, and slowly... Opens up in and about himself, too.

• Soap is loud, if not a bit boastful. He doesn't mind calling you sweet nicknames, throwing a flirty line or two over comms. His love languages are words of affirmation and physical touch, and he isn't shy about giving nor receiving. He's quite sensitive to personal space and highly receptive of your emotional state.

• You know that Ghost has a hard time conveying his thoughts and feelings. Hell, he can't even decipher them himself most of he time. Comes with the life he agreed on living, doesn't make it any more frustrating when he refuses to elaborate on decisions he's made.

• Soap understands you both. He's had his fair share of troubles with the stoic Lt, and thus acts as a mediator. He jokingly calls himself the "peacekeeper of the 141", taking the deadly stares from both of you with stride.

• Ghost and Soap often share late night talks. It's an intimate moment between these two on an emotional level: Let the stars be witness to their hopes and dreams, their frustrations and fears, let their heart get lighter until the sun shines on them and reminds them of the hardships daylight brings.

• It's nights like those where Soap nudges Ghost in the right direction when it comes to you. Gentle but stern pushes towards an apology, in whichever form it may come in, Ghost's words carry nothing but candour. Be patient and he'll do his best to learn.

• "Live as if you're dead", they say, but how can one not feel alive when you love pulses hot through their veins? They should know better. They should know better than to let themselves fall for you like so and yet they're utterly powerless, for no knife may cut that damned red string.

Bonus:

Price raises a brow at whatever you three got going on, but chooses to remain ignorant as long as it doesn't affect work. If anything, he finds amusement in it; how the three of you bicker back and forth, how your dynamic confuses everyone not sharp enough to catch on. Besides, he's won quite a few bucks over drunken bets with Gaz - and he gets to see Simon more often too, rather than Ghost. A bonus if anything.

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #ghost x reader #soap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty headcanons #call of duty x you #cod mw2 imagine #call of duty soap #cod mw2 fanfic #call of duty ghost #call of duty mw2 #call of duty x reader

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my-head-is-an-animal · 8 months

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The Climb

Summary: You're a scientist, an engineer to be exact. Called to a meeting you had no real right to be at, Optimus Prime takes an exclusive interest in you, but you can't help but ask yourself at every turn, Why?

Rating: 18+ 🌹🩸🍆

Story Masterlist

Chapter 5

I really wasn’t sure what to make of Optimus’s strange response to my question, but I maintained that if he had faith in me, then everything would be okay.

Colonel Morshower called in for an update with myself and Lennox, Optimus was loitering on the other side of the hanger, behind the screen.

‘How’s it going Dr Harding?’ He asked, sitting down in his usual seat on the video link.

‘Well, I’m not out of breath walking up those stairs anymore.’ I tried to joke, gaining only a small smile from the Colonel.

‘It’s going well, sir.’ Lennox intervened. ‘Dr Harding’s physical capabilities have improved drastically over the last two months and her team have been working on a way to reduce the amount needed to climb.’

‘How? I thought electronics would be detected?’

‘Yes, sir.’ I cut in. ‘But we can use a suction gun that works via air pressure instead. No electronics needed.’

‘That’s good to hear.’ Morshower nodded. ‘What about when you get inside the ship?’

‘That’s proving to be more difficult.’ Lennox admitted. ‘So far as we can tell, Dr Harding will need to either take or construct a small bomb to disrupt the ship enough to stop it from harvesting our core.’

‘Make a bomb?’

‘Oh, it’s easy enough, but the hard part will be having to carry the extra weight.’ I waved my hand, dismissing the question.

‘It’s easy, is it?’ Morshower raised his eyebrow, almost amused. ‘Remind me to keep a closer eye on you Doctor. What about descent?’

I felt the guilt whip at my chest as Lennox stepped forward. ‘We’re planning a parachute jump, but hopefully by that point, the ship will be incapacitated, and Harding can be picked up by one of the Autobots.’

I glanced at Optimus who may well have been thinking the same thing as me.

‘This plan seems to be getting more and more elaborate by the day, are you sure you’re up to it, Harding?’

‘Well, we don’t have much of a choice now, sir.’ I sighed. ‘It’s too late to train anyone else and if making a bomb is now an essential component, it limits the possibilities considerably.’

‘Very well.’

The colonel and Lennox had other things to discuss, and I had an air pressure gun to build with Theo. I wandered back down the stairs and caught Optimus out of the corner of my eye, he always watched me, like he was expecting something to happen.

I went back to the lab and continued working on the prototype gun, Theo had managed to shave off a lot of the weight already, but it would still be weight I didn’t want to carry around. I’d already started training carrying a parachute and a couple of weights that approximated the same weight needed to construct a small bomb. It made everything harder, but Lennox reminded me that gravity was heavier closer to the Earth’s surface, it should get easier the further up I went.

‘Shit.’ I whispered.

‘What?’ Theo suddenly looked down at the gun I was constructing. ‘Something wrong?’

‘Altitude.’ I breathed. ‘The air’s going to be really thin up there.’

‘Shit.’ Theo sighed as well.

Suddenly everything was that much harder. If I ran out of breath in an oxygen rich environment, then I would almost certainly pass out so close to the edge of the atmosphere.

I went for a walk in the quieter part of the base, just getting some space to think.

‘Harding.’ Ironhide nodded as I wandered passed him hanging out with Bumblebee. ‘Made any progress on that gun yet? I’ll gladly help you out.’

I chuckled. ‘I told you, it’s not a real gun, it’s to help me make the climb. If I can get it working, I can pull myself up maybe twenty feet at a time.’

‘Urgh, so civil.’ He shook his head, making me laugh a little. ‘So, not to intrude, but how did it go with Prime the other night?’

‘What do you mean?’ I frowned.

‘He came back to the hanger in a beast of a mood. What did you say to him?’

I shook my head. ‘I didn’t say anything. I asked him why he let me speak the first day we met, and he told me he couldn’t say. Then he basically ordered me to get some rest. That was about it.’

‘Hmm.’ Ironhide shrugged and began walking away.

I couldn’t dwell too much on his question, I needed to figure out a way to breathe while at high altitude without resorting to carrying an oxygen tank.

I found a quiet spot just behind a hill and sat on the grass staring out at the ocean. It was beautiful, but it was obvious all of a sudden that I wasn’t alone. Optimus.

‘I didn’t want to disturb you.’ He said, looking as if he’d been standing there for some time.

‘It’s okay, I can leave you alone if you wanted some peace.’ I went to stand.

‘No.’ He stopped me, holding out his hand, but immediately brought it back to his side and said nothing else.

‘Okay.’ I didn’t want to push him to say what was on his mind, he didn’t need that from me.

‘How is your progress?’ Optimus suddenly asked, keeping his conversation professional.

‘It’s fine.’ I shook my head. ‘But I had the realisation that at such a high altitude, lack of oxygen is a problem.’

‘Hmm.’ He nodded running his finger along his chin thoughtfully. ‘I have seen humans wear masks when oxygen is low, can you not construct a device that operates in a similar fashion?’

‘I can, but the problem is the weight. I’ll already be carrying more than I want to and I can’t carry anything unnecessary.’

‘Oxygen is necessary.’ Optimus countered.

‘I know.’ I sighed. ‘I just mean…’ I really didn’t want to say what I was thinking. ‘I could swap the parachute for an oxygen mask, that way we’ll actually be shaving off some weight.’

‘The parachute is for your descent. It is also necessary.’

I let a heavy breath go. ‘Look, you and I both know that my chances of survival are slim anyway, the fact is I will have to put the bomb on a timer and I don’t know if I’ll have enough energy left to make my way off that ship-‘

‘Stop.’ Optimus growled, once again, descending to his knees to talk to me. ‘You will make the descent, Dr Harding. You cannot sacrifice yourself needlessly.’

‘It won’t be needless if it saves the world.’ I shot back.

‘I cannot allow you to die on this mission, I would rather do so myself.’ He was angry, I knew that much, but shame seemed to follow from the way his complex face moved afterwards.

‘Look, I know we’re different beings,’ I started, noting a change in his expression that I couldn’t quite identify. ‘I know we have different cultures and honestly, when I first dreamed about meeting an Autobot, one of the first things I thought about was how great it would be to get to know you, understand your customs, the way you work and maybe if you trusted me enough, I could ask you about how you operate. But now, all I want is to know what it is about me that upsets you so much.’

‘Upsets me?’

‘Because right now… I feel so small compared to you, I feel like I can’t do this and I was never worthy of being your choice-‘

‘Stop.’ Optimus commanded again, moving himself closer to me, hesitating before stopping completely. Optimus sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. ‘Dr Harding, I cannot express my feelings for you in a way that would represent them accurately. All I know, is that if you fail, if you die, I may lose my reason for being.’

I felt my heart fall through the floor, before shooting back up to my chest and working in overdrive.

‘I don’t understand.’ I could feel the tears escaping. ‘Are you saying…’ I swallowed unable to imagine ever asking what I was about to ask, especially to Optimus Prime. ‘Are you saying you like me?’

‘It would be such a small fraction of my feelings for you, but yes, I do.’ He nodded and I could feel my heart pumping even harder. ‘I do not expect you to return such feelings, but I would ask that you continue to look after yourself, it pains me greatly to see you hurting yourself, or not complying with your body’s wishes to rest.’

I didn’t have the chance to say anything else. Optimus immediately stood and transformed into the blue and red flamed truck and drove away. What was I supposed to do with the information?

If you liked this, please consider supporting me ☕ thanks for reading!

#optimus prime fic #optimus prime x ofc #optimus prime x reader #optimus prime #transformers

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anubisandco · 10 months

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Ghost and Rabbit.

Hey! here is my newest and first fic ever, Rabbit is an oc but doesnt have an actual name yet so yk, also not beta'd bc who gives af anyway Enjoy!!

“ Run Rabbit, run.” The voice was thick and deep as it cut through the static and gunshots around her, the accent was smooth calming almost. To anyone else, he sounded like he always did, casual, yet still ordering people around, even in the middle of a battle.

To her, he was worried, maybe even scared. For her. He had no idea where she was right now. SHE had no idea where she was right now, their plane had been shot down before they reached the drop zone, scattering their forces as far as anyone knew she was miles away from anyone on her team, most of them having met up someplace in the rubble city.

More gunshots, more explosions. More bloodshed. Her knives would mean little to no defense, she wasn’t afraid though, she knew what she could do with her bare hands. Could being the keyword. Though Rabbit was built, designed for war, for killing, She had stepped off the field in that way years ago.

Her medical skills were her much-preferred way to help out, though she much preferred it when she had a team to patch up and not a bunch of potential hostels around every corner. She darted through the rubbled streets as quickly as she could, heading further and further into the battle. She recognized no one so far, dead or alive.

The stark white scarf she wore around her neck fluttered as she ran, she wore it up over her nose, covering the bottom of her face. More of a style choice than anything else, something she used to do during basic training and the few years that followed. She carried it over to her medic days as some sort of salute, or nod to the past Rabbit.

She could hear her teammates yelling over the coms, talking to each other checking in, and making sure they were all alive. Rabbit had checked in a few moments ago, it had calmed him a little bit, but the fact that he hadn’t put eyes on her in hours set him on edge.

They had been through a lot together. Hell, they started their careers fighting each other to be the best, battling for first. It took years to get where they were today, the kind of bond no one else really understood because it was just for them.

Ghost and Rabbit.

Two call signs anyone in their line of work would recognize.

They were the best of the best, they worked almost too well side by side, something everyone on their team had to get used to, well new team. When she left, He followed close behind. It's how it always was, she goes he goes. He goes she goes.

Ghost and Rabbit.

He was waiting for her now, in some crumbling building, weapon at the ready just in case. His fingers itched where they rested on the trigger, his worry getting to him. Ghost would never say any of this to anyone, not even Rabbit. His fear for her life plagued his mind every mission, every gunshot he heard right now he was picturing her on the receiving end.

Ghost knew she was better than that, she wouldn't get caught, she wasn't called Rabbit for nothing, but the thought, no matter how impossible made him want to hunt her down.

“ Eta Rabbit.” He spoke as slowly as possible, He leaned around the corner checking the streets around him. Soap and the rest of the team were crawling the streets somewhere close, picking off whatever hostels they could find, working toward the end of the mission. And he was waiting.

“ Depends.” Her voice was crackled and quiet, but sweet non the less.

“ Elaborate.”

“ Well, considering how much shit I have to climb over it’s gonna add about two minutes.” She answered and all he could do is shake his head. Their bickering on missions never ended, it was one sarcastic comment and then another.

“ Hurry it up will ya?” He ordered more than asked. She didn’t respond, a few blocks away He could hear an explosion go off loud static took over the coms channel and Ghost froze. His grip tightened on his gun, he stood waiting a few moments of silence passed.

The sound of some building crumbling filled his ears but it was like he didn't even register it. He’d go find her, in just a second, he’d give Rabbit just a second longer. Simon waited for her, shifting on his feet slightly.

What felt like hours passed.

“ I think I fucked up my knee.” Her voice spoke from somewhere to his right, the opposite end from where she was supposed to come from.

Ghost shook his head, clearing away whatever thoughts that were tangled there.

“Bloody hell Rabbit, took you long enough.” He sling his gun over his shoulder and helped her down the pile of possible wall. She laughed a lighthearted sound, something that didn’t belong where they were.

“Sorry ‘bout that Ghosty.”

Now all that stood between the team and their evac point was a few blocks and more hostiles, but at least they were all somewhat together now.

Ghost and Rabbit picked their way slowly together, his pace was usually a fast cutthroat run through the battlefield, killing at Mach ten. He had slowed down this much for her, Rabbit limped behind him just a step or two. She knew she was holding him up but she didn’t even try and apologize, he’d yell at her more for saying sorry than for slowing him down.

She checked her med kits and pockets to make sure she had almost everything she fell with, it would be no surprise if Soap needed a stitch or two when they made it out of there. It was almost like an after-mission tradition for them.

Rabbit would ask who needed her first and usually, it’d be Soap who’d raise his hand, sometimes barely with enough strength.

Obviously, he was a good soldier, great even. One of the best, but he was a little reckless with himself out on the field, so it was no surprise when he’d land in one of her beds in the med bay with a bullet hole or cut on him. She’d ask for the story and listen intently as she stitched him up. She’d once asked if it was on purpose just to see her more. Soap laughed and shook his head, leaving with the parting words that Ghost would kill him if he ever did that.

“ Ghost large group of hostiles heading your way, right block.” Gaz’s voice rang out over coms, Rabbit stopped immediately. She’d be more help if she stayed put, her hand pulled a knife out from one of the many holsters and She scanned the area.

Ghost watched her from the corner of his eye as he moved forward a few feet, closer to them. His gun was back in his hands, he pressed up against the nearest building and waited for them. This is what he was used to. Waiting to kill, to rip and tear.

He looked over at her, and she couldn’t help but smile, her scarf had fallen off her face by now, and she didn’t bother to fix it. Ghost nodded such a simple gesture, but she knew it meant a lot more than he wanted it to.

Ghost and Rabbit. Rabbit and Ghost.

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #cod mw2 #cod price #soap modern warfare #soap x you #price x you #ocs #könig cod #first fic #fanfiction #fanfic #idk man

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 8 months

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on a very random note (and hope you don't mind me talking about it ^^;), I do think Studio Bones is doing a great job at adapting Season 4 and I'm really enjoying it!

Though sometimes, I wish that they didn't omit some manga panels because it makes me a little sad that the weight of certain moments is taken away:

Exhibit A: Dazai laughing at Chuuya's impression

Exhibit B: Chuuya talking about Dazai leaving the mafia

Exhibit C: Dazai getting arrested

Exhibit D: Ango visiting Odasaku's grave

and the last one because this moment destroyed me when I read the manga and cause he's my personal favorite:

Exhibit E: Rampo facing Mushitarou on his own

genuinely, I'm really enjoying the adaptation right now and it's not that I don't appreciate the effort put into this <33

And it's true, these are minor manga panels so it wouldn't be too much to change or discard it and yet in taking away such minor panels, it also takes away the grand depth and complexity of what the characters are thinking and feeling in those moments.

It takes away the weight of the scene.

And that's the thing, bsd is a series that has so many complex characters with intricate dynamics, thoughts and moralities that it's a little bittersweet to know that the anime falls short sometimes when capturing certain moments and deprives us of the struggles, humanity and genuineness that these characters have and are going through.

again, nothing against Studio Bones but I often think of the things that could have been :<<

@langdahling

Hey you two! First off, I want to apologize for the huge delay. I was trying to think of what to say in response and I think I always make responding to asks way more work than they ought to be...

But anyways. Here are my general thoughts on the BSD anime, which I'm probably only going to elaborate on here once, and then drop it.

I enjoy the anime, really I do. But it's strange to think how drastic the difference is in the way the characters are interpreted between those who have only seen the anime and those who have also read the manga (and perhaps also the light novels).

First off, let's go over what the anime does well, since I want to ensure we're appreciating what is still a lot of effort from everyone in that studio. Animation, and all the things that need to happen to get a show off the ground, is not easy. Here are some things that stand out to me:

Those backgrounds: you know what I'm talking about. The stained glass, the sunsets, the city shots, the imagery. Beautiful, stunning work honestly.

Use of imagery and clever animation choices: there are some things that are going to change by necessity when adapting from page to screen. The clever animation teams will use this to their advantage - I don't think Bones always does this effectively, but when they do... oh man, is it ever good. I, for one, really liked the kind of projector effect over Dazai's farewell to Chuuya in s5.

Use of colour and light: go back through any scene and pay attention to who has what colours and the way the lighting is positioned. Again, these are those smart animation choices I was talking about.

The music: Score's really good. I wish the music was used a little more consistently (there's some weird choices made... why Wake Up Call for the Tachihara fight???) but the music itself is catchy and sets a good tone.

The voice acting: It's so good. See, even when I wasn't convinced about how the scenes were going to be framed, I never doubted the voice actors would carry it. (I'm talking about the Japanese actors here specifically, but the English dub is pretty good too... sorry I can't speak on any other dubs though...) I really love Kyouka's seiyuu (Morohoshi Sumire) and the way her voice takes on more inflection through the series as Kyouka comes into her own especially.

The abilities and the use of writing: Love the way the abilities are animated. And the use of text to emphasize character intros and key scenes was always good, but I legitimately freaked out when they used it for the Page's narration over Nikolai's speech in Season 4 - good! artistic! choices!

And we're lucky enough to have an adaptation that follows the major plot beats pretty much to the letter! ...so. Why does it tend to disappoint fans of the manga so often?

Well I know a lot of people have their opinions on it. owlyflufff I agree with you - the exclusion of certain panels make for very odd characterization choices - as in, it totally changes the context of the scene and what the character might be thinking. See Exhibits A through C for the best examples. For Exhibits D and E, I personally feel that we got enough in the scene to draw the same conclusions about motive and intent, but that Ango panel... oof it hurts so much. I'm ok with the Dark Era flashbacks personally though: same character motive, just with different artistic interpretation.

langdahling, you're also right though. Pivotal emotional moments aside, I feel a lot of shows (not just BSD) don't know how to let their characters breathe. Pacing is a huge issue in a lot of things I find. You have to let us know who these characters are. Let the characters breathe, and give us, the audience, time to breathe with the characters. It's important. It's really important. It's something the manga does well - it's endearing. Every character gets a little endearing, silly moment. This is necessary for a series that is fundamentally about humanizing its cast.

As for my own opinion on what the adaptation lacks... well, I have a bit of an interesting view because both my mom and I actually watch this show. I, as you all know, am a deranged little weirdo about it who has literally gone through everything BSD I could find and inserted it directly into my brain cells. My mom, on the other hand, has only seen the anime, but is privy to other information about the series um. Because I talk about it non-stop (sorry mom). I happened to be visiting her when season 4 started airing and we watched the first little bit together - the Untold Origins adaptation. To be clear - this adaptation was good. I think it was probably the best after Dark Era. But. My mom turns and looks at me at the scene where Ranpo breaks down shortly before Fukuzawa lies about him having an ability (because I've told her the rough summary of it before) and says "I don't think Ranpo's desperation came across". She said it felt like a breakdown, sure, but it's not the same as the pent-up frustration and fear that was made so incredibly clear in the novel. She said if I hadn't explained that Fukuzawa realized it was kind of his last chance to reach Ranpo, that he had to do something to save this kid, that she would've been left completely bewildered as to why Fukuzawa would tell him such a massive lie. (Never mind the exclusion of his parents, which was why nothing but a lie would work but I digress...) This happened later in the series too. Kunikida was given a prolonged fish-eye closeup through Jouno's entire speech about his ideals instead of the balloon symbolism used in the manga (literally one of the most baffling changes to me - I don't really feel any which way about the fish eyes in general, but imo doing any kind of prolonged like 20 second close up of one character's face during what is a pivotal moment for them is uh... a weird, if not outright poor, animation choice). Poor Akutagawa's death scene being... like that. He dies with grace! He DIES WITH GRACE! That's important!!! He made a choice and was satisfied!!! For all of the Bones and Asagiri Dazai favouritism, he's probably one of the worst examples of watered down emotion - it's no wonder so many people mischaracterize him. Why is he smiling when Jouno arrests him? Why does he look unbothered when he realizes Chuuya's been vampirized? Where is the scene after Q attacks where he conflictedly realizes he'll have to resort to underhanded tactics to win??? Thank god for Miyano Mamoru and his voice acting because otherwise. Geez. And then Sigma. Oh my god. You need that scene where he helps the casino guest. That's his first scene. They condensed his backstory. Sigma's entire character was watered down. And I knew it was going to be before I even watched Sky Casino arc, because this is the core problem I have with the anime in general -

There is a lack of desperation. And it comes, primarily, from the watering down of intense, pivotal moments, and then, the removal of some of the more lighthearted or kind scenes in favour of getting quickly to the action.

I feel that contrast is what's necessary to give these emotional beats weight. And often... it just doesn't hit. It's odd to me, as imo one of the core themes of BSD is desperation. Every character has this desperation at their core - a desperation to succeed, a desperation to live, not having a reason to live and being desperate to find it. It's all desperation - and this really, really does not come across well in the anime. Not consistently. I think the most egregious example is the Sky Casino arc. Both Sigma and Teruko are just as desperate as each other. Teruko stopping the plane was not a guarantee but a play on her part that could very well have resulted in her death. There's heavy implication the bones in her arms shattered in the manga. Her and Tachihara had to take a quick breather after it. That's not in the anime. Sigma's backstory being condensed does a great disservice to explaining why he is so desperate to save the casino - I felt we were primarily told rather than shown. And so the Sky Casino arc, with desperation at its core... was underwhelming. As I figured it would be before it even came out, as the anime already had a history of cutting details out, rushing through the build up, and making odd artistic choices that dampen the emotion of said pivotal scenes. It sucks, really.

And while it's fun to get two seasons in one year, I find myself very, very worried on behalf of the animators and the workers in that studio. I would've been happy to have two in one year... if I thought they were at all prepared for it. But I don't think they were. Season 5 feels very rushed and I know I'm not the only one who's said this. Makes me worried for the pressure everyone's under to churn this out so quickly.

In the end, I rationalize most adaptations of anything as having two (or multiple!) cakes. The BSD anime is enjoyable! And fun! I love seeing my little guys walk and talk and use their cool powers. It's a completely different experience to the manga. Unfortunately, for anyone who's read the manga, it's... a bit of an underwhelming experience, but still. It's a fun watch - even if it's not really what I was hoping for.

#thanks for the ask!#this is probably the only time i'll speak on my thoughts about the anime adaptation and my criticisms tbh.#i just don't want to spread too much negativity about it #but i also think people's grievances with it are completely fair and that these criticisms deserve to be known also #bsd #bsd anime criticism #storyrambles

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diorsbrando · 2 years

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AOT MEN AS FOOTBALL PLAYERS !

purely, completely inspired by this fan art i saw, i SWEAR drool leaks at the corners of my lips every time i lay eyes on it. i meant to post this weeks ago but i got distracted, life is busy, and i came up with like 10 other draft ideas. but here you are! pls enjoy, reblogs are heavily appreciated!! <3

cw ! ━━ college/professional football au!, fluffy things, suggestive themes + scenarios, mentions of sports related injuries

notes ! ━━ here is the artist and fan art for reference, pls go support her work she’s truly talented and amazing: link link link (there’s no art for connie but ima include him here anyway) this wasn’t even supposed to be long but here i am getting carried away once again

ꨄ . . . EREN

based on the picture (linked above), his stance, facial expression and body language, all tell us one thing . . . .eren is the whore of the team.

LMAOOOOOOOOOOO i said what i said <3

to elaborate, he’s like... the most desired out of everyone (he gives most eligible bachelor vibes) and the team has him to thank for all the extra publicity and support they get from a wider audience aside from adolescent, teenage and middle aged men.

he likes to act dumb like he doesn’t notice all this extra attention he gets, especially from women, but it’s obvious that every time he goes to a conference, or he’s on the field, or taking a break on the bench, he is literally basking in the screams and praises of his name or the number on the back of his jersey; it feeds his ego until it’s overflowing and spilling over. that smug smile he wears is always plastered on his face because of it.

also because of all this attention, he’s one of those players that barely show up to practice. he’ll really only show up a couple times a month, and it’s an even rarer sight if you see him at morning practices, the ones that occur when the sun is just peaking over the trees and tall buildings on campus and the sky is rich, navy blue hue. it’s not even because he’s busy with other things like school or a job, he just doesn’t show up because he ‘doesn’t feel like it’. coach erwin smith verbally scolds him for his lack of team spirit and collaboration, but coach levi ackerman simply just makes him run and do suicides until he nearly passes out from exhaustion.

eren still does what he pleases though, and somehow maintains his position of the team’s quarterback. as many absences as he has, he can still keep up and is knowledgeable of team plays and strategies.

definitely the one to play jokes and pranks on the rest of the team alongside connie. more on that soon

back to what i was saying about him being the local manwhore though (as cliche as it is, it fits this version of him), a lot of women and even some men want a piece of mr. yeager and he thoughtlessly entertains any flirtatious encounters he may come across. lowkey he’s kinda superficial, and a liittle shallow, but always get what he wants. if he does end up getting with someone for the long term, the lucky girl wouldn’t fall for his beguiling smiles so easy; they’d humble him, making him a better person and that would make him fall deeply in love with them.

ꨄ . . . JEAN

in the pic jean looks like he was attending a conference of some sort. therefore, i like to believe he never liked going to those things, and his cute lil thick girlfriend me as well as his manager forces him to attend and participate. i hc that he doesn’t really like being in front of flashing cameras and reporters all that much (camera shy <3) . he’d rather have scouts come to his games and hunt him down for questions afterwards.

jean gives me wide receiver vibes idkk. i think he probably wanted to be quarterback but he had to compete with eren for that spot, and eren beat him to it. over time though he’s grown to love playing the position

definitely has his own little harem of girls that would drop their panties for him, but he’s so incredibly loyal to that pretty girl he has laying in his bed back at his dorm or his apartment, so he politely declines or weave around their advances.

he lives for the massages his gf gives when he goes home after a long day of practice & work and/or school. the way her hands work into the tense and stiff muscles on his back or shoulders either leave him incredibly aroused or incredibly sleepy

i feel like he’s one of the more... serious ones, like he follows plays strictly by the book, shows up to every practice on time (maybe even stays late if he has extra energy), the whole 9 yards.

wants to go pro, and he does eventually

if one of those programs should happen where high school football teams, or a group of kids from a rec center shadow his team for a whole day, i feel like he’d be very involved with the younger kids. he’s really eager to teach them all the skills he’s picked up over the years, run a couple plays and give them tips to succeed if they wanna get into the sport or get drafted in the nfl.

i hc that he would do like... commercials for things and get brand deals n’ stuff because he just seems approachable, despite not liking being in front of a camera in that way

unfortunately, the pranks that eren and connie play are on him 75% of the time :( my poor boy. def gets a grey hair or two dealin with them

expanding on what i said before, there was a little teeny bit of resentment he held towards eren because he got to be quarterback instead of him, and he gives ‘ren shit for it sometimes ( ‘ren is offended and acts like he doesn’t know why but deep down he has an idea, and taunts jean about it). but when it’s crunch time and they’re in the zone, they work so well together; they are definitely a dynamic duo and no one can stop them

ꨄ . . . ARMIN

oh precious baby armin <333 he looks so delectable in the fan art i just wanna lick up his neck and kiss all over his face while i bounce on that veiny colossal cock he got in his━

ahem, sorry about that

anyway, yes. armin is definitely very beefy here as a football player and we love that

naturally, eren is his best friend on the team. matter fact, he’s the one that convinced armin to join in the first place. he did really well at tryouts and practice, so they also made him apart of the starting lineup as a (full back) running back

building off this, i feel like him (and connie) are the most agile on the team. sure everyone is fast and has to have a certain level of agility and speed to even be on the team, let alone be a starter, but armin...he’s just slightly better than everyone else in that department

i headcanon that he’s the rookie of the team, meaning he joined a tad later than everyone else, which was strange because usually coaches levi and erwin don’t accept no late comers; if you miss tryouts then that’s it. but that just made everyone believe that he had real potential if they accepted him anyway

armin initially saw football as a hobby, an extracurricular if you will. but the longer he played for the team, the closer he gets to his best friend eren whilst making new ones, the more he started to realize that football was more than a hobby. it was a de-stressor, he really enjoyed being out on the field everyday. it made him forget about all his troubles for a while

speaking of troubles, he’s in college (as i previously alluded to), majoring in environmental science and ecology. he usually has a lot of stuff on his academic plate but he manages it really well and maintains a good academic standing

after his first game, a month after he joined, all the girls flocked to him and sweet ‘min isn’t used to getting attention like that, so it left him a bit frazzled, trying to listen to everyone at once and give them a thoughtful answer, while flashing them a sheepish smile (which only made his new harem swoon even more)

he’d never admit it to anyone, but all this attention definitely boosted his self esteem and his ego. it’s something he now anticipated after a game or practice, and he only got more suave and sly, taking everyone off guard

def the type to invite the boys to train or hit the gym outside practice and then hangout or something afterwards

also the type to get brand deals and be special guests on kids television or award ceremonies to present awards or whatever

ꨄ . . . REINER

oh reiner.. my everything. the kids miss you bb

okay UH when i first saw the fan art for reiner my immediate thought was he is a line backer. like immediately. to me it suits him well because he’s so bigggg n’ muscular and beefy like YUMMMM he’d be tackling mfs

another one of those kinds of players that would take the game a little more seriously than others; like jean he does things by the playbook and does it very very well

part of this is because reiner is that team member that has been playing football for most of his life: as a fun little thing in middle school, played all four years in high school, and intends to play all through college. his dream since he was younger is to be scouted by one of his favorite teams, get drafted, and go pro

spoiler alert: he does. (when they announced his name, number and what team he was gonna play, he was so shocked and almost teared up as he walked up the stage to accept his jersey. he’s so cute. )

reiner just.... looks the most natural in football attire let’s be real with ourselves. like it suits him. he loves the game so much

i headcanon that he becomes the nfl’s “it boy”, like he’s the talk of the organization for a while, people won’t stop talking about him, companies are reaching out to him for endorsements and brand deals bc why not. sports magazines reach out to him as well and he also looks natural posing for a camera as he does on the field

in his future, i can see him being inducted into the nfl hall of fame. that, he will cry at, because it’ll make him feel like he accomplished something in his life, and that people acknowledge him.

sees his college and/or professional team like family fr; all the boys like his brothers

it’s a given reiner will kiiinda be a meathead, always the first to take up offers to go to the gym or stay longer after practice.

likes coach erwin a lot, and is...intimidated by coach levi LMAOOOO

ꨄ . . . CONNIE

ahhh, cornelius constance jamal springer III

he lowkey gives me laid back skater boy turned jock

he plays entirelyyy too much like he gets threatened to be benched every other week

sometimes he does end up getting benched and when he pouts his pink puffy lips, coach levi narrows his eyes at him, slaps him upside the head with his clipboard and goes “if you’d just shut the fuck up during practice and do what you’re told, that could be you out there” and then proceeds to put him in bc levi wants all his boys to play

but this ain’t about levi. he’ll come next

connie def runs the most suicides bc of his aforementioned behavior

unrelated but connie is one of the most agile/fast people on the team, right next to armin. so what’s a few laps? the coaches think. the way the coaches see it, all that talk he was chatting about the latest kickback, they’ll wear him down so much he’ll be too sore to attend

connie’s position... he gives me tight end, maybe even a cornerback . i’d like to think he really enjoys playing offense more than defense.

to be frank, everyone on this list has their own little group of fangirls, and constance eats up the attention he gets. before he started playing football, it was never like this, and he wasn’t all that well known, he just blended into the crowd. but playing for his college...despite it actually being kinda fun, was the best decision he ever made

probably knew jean and was friends with him in high school and just when jean boy thought he’d escape connie (he’d never tell him or anyone how much he’d missed him at their high school graduation) there he goes at the information sessions....then at tryouts...and the locker rooms and practice... and on the field. all the while connie is just smirking at his friend’s annoyed expression

back to what i was saying before, connie is probably the prankster on the team, well, more like comic relief to liven things up. he is definitely the type to do that thing when you wring a towel up tight, all that pressure packed up in a stiff coil, before releasing all that pressure in the form of a loud smack! on someone’s unsuspecting bare ass

jean is the victim of this most of the time

everyone is howling in laughter, even armin let’s out a hearty chuckle

and that thing i said about eren being included in these schemes? yeah if the pranks are on jean, then he’ll gladly oblige because they have this unspoken rivalry between each other. but connie always gets in trouble, eren almost always slipping away at the last minute with a snicker

ꨄ . . . LEVI

levi ackerman.... he looks delicious in the fan art don’t you agree? that piercing and silver chain he got make me wanna drop my panties fr

in this case, i think it’s a given he’s one of the coaches for this team. if this was like good cop bad cop, levi would be.. the ‘bad’ cop

LOL he’s more strict and kind of demands more from his players. the way he carries himself, he’s intimidating and just exudes authority. but the boys got used to it overtime

very punctual. he takes that seriously so the boys try their hardest to be early or arrive on time. levi don’t got time for all that shit, he just wants to do his job and get today’s session over with

in terms of coaching, i hc that levi handles practicing whatever plays are in the playbook, taking the time to make sure everyone knows what they’re doing and that they’re doing it right. that doesn’t mean his patience is extensive though, he will get irritated if someone is doing something wrong too many times. he whips them into shape by threatening to bench them or ‘sarcastically’ joke that he’ll give one of the boys a broken bone, “so now you really will be on the bench because and won’t be able to play.”

heheh, silly levi <3

erwin has to remind him he can’t blatantly make threats like that

i headcanon that he’s also the one that schedule most meetings and press conferences, as well as handle everything when the boys have an away game

now if we’re talking about levi in his glory days...whew baby was dat shit fr

back when he was in college he was one of the star players on his team. he used to be the kicker, the muscles in his legs taut and strong; he never missed btw. but for the majority of his professional career, i’d like to say that he played wide receiver, like jean. he seems like he’d enjoy weaving past the opposing team (his more slender stature coming in handy) and running damn near the entire field to catch passes

the competition couldn’t keep up with him

he was that guy that had never touched a football in his life, but as soon as he started, he was damn good. eventually got inducted into the hall of fame. one of the few times he genuinely smiled at something

out of everyone on this list, him and erwin have suffered the most injuries. one time when he was younger, levi was tackled down and he fell wrong, dislocating his entire shoulder

he loves the boys so much, outside of football, he cares about their well being and what’s going on in their lives, he’s just awful at expressing it

ꨄ . . . ERWIN

first thing that came to mind for erwin smith was ‘head coach’. i think it makes sense considering his ranking in the aot canonverse

referring back to my good cop/bad cop comparison from before erwin is the ‘good’ cop. and good is laying it on kinda thick. bc erwin can still be strict, he’s just slightly more lenient then levi is

if the boys had to choose, eight times outta ten, they’d pick coach smith

in terms of his role on the team, most of the time he’s the one in charge of days where the boys condition their bodies, so like endurance training, increasing their stamina, flexibility exercises etc. truthfully speaking though, him and levi’s roles are interchangeable ; they’re perfectly capable of doing each other’s jobs

but i can see erwin yelling out counts and commands during practice a little too well. sometimes he’d even do conditioning exercises with them bc “what’s the harm in that ?”

side note: he’s tall and muscular and strong it’s crazy fr

also, coach erwin is a milf chaser . kiindaaaa unrelated but it’s definitely true. esp a milf who happens to be a black woman. just imagine he’s goin to a high school game to scout out and new players who show great potential, and then he notices this gorgeous, dark skinned woman a few seats away and he just has to go talk to her . turns out her son is on the field he’s been the one that he’s been eyeing the whole time . he puts his silver tongue to use and flatters her almost immediately. by the end of the night erwin just might have scored a new member of his team and a new stepson

;)) that needed to be said

but besides that, he finds that a lot of single moms often offer him a lingering glance wherever he may go. i mean who can blame them ?

i feel like back when he was younger and he used to play he was a lot like reiner. which kinda explains why reiner admires erwin so much , bc he sees the resemblance too. erwin was the “golden boy” in his days.

in high school, he played quarterback and in college he was positioned as center . bc again, him leading offense and yelling out commands to the quarterback is very on brand for him

levi and erwin first met at a college kickback (yes levi occasionally went to those bc he was on the football team, but he hated every minute of it) . they met at a bar , talked about stuff, discovered they both played ball and their friendship went from there. things got interesting when they say each other on opposite sides on the field the following saturday, their schools playing against each other . they continued to hang out and meet for drinks after that .

erwin is in love with the game it would take something really serious to force him to stop playing . that serious thing, was when he tore his ACL. the way he and the opposing team member charged at each other, you’d think they were in a brawl to the death. one wrong movement and a tackle to the ground and that was it. although his knee was burning with excruciating pain, erwin gritted his teeth and stood up on his own , stumbling to the bench with the help of other coaches and teammates. he didn’t think it was that serious so he didn’t get it checked out right away

it was this mistake that cost him . now he has a long lasting knee pain which prevented him from seriously playing. he can still do physical activity, it just took him a while to get back to it

naturally, he got inducted into the hall of fame early on in his nfl career— well, at least earlier than levi did

and like levi, he cared deeply for his players and their futures, on and off the field <3 he’s such a sweetie

あ taglist ━━ @yamaguchism @aaphroditeeeee @heartsfrommars @poohbea

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novankenn · 4 months

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Saints of the Sword (v1-4)

(I am going to very BLUNT with this statement, even though it seems like it... THIS IS NOT an everyone betrays Jaune fic. There is much more going on including Jaune's own low sense of self-worth.)

Cardin found himself standing before the Headmaster of Beacon. Professor Goodwitch standing off to Ozpin’s left, as the man in question sat behind his large desk. Cardin said nothing and just waited for Ozpin to speak.

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Mr Winchester, and I must say I am impressed with how you are conducting yourself.” Ozpin commented. “I have been apprised of your exploits, and I can tell you are no longer the young, brash young man that once attended this school.”

“Thank you, headmaster Ozpin.” Cardin responded, with a respectful tone.

“I understand you wished to speak with me, but I was under the impression Mr Arc would also be in attendance. Has something happened to him?”

“Jaune is… under the weather, and we decided he needs rest more than to attend this meeting.” Cardin replied. “Give him a few days, and he will be more than happy to speak with you and answer any questions you have.”

“I see. I must ask… if you don't mind answering.”

“Go ahead.”

“How? How did you and Jaune find yourselves working together?” Ozpin asked before adding to his question with a reason for it. “From what I know, and the reports I read… your relationship here at Beacon was rather hostile.”

“It’s rather simple, really.” Cardin answered, “I watched him prove his worth time and time again, and I had my own inaccurate ideals dismantled, during our tenure with the RoughNecks.”

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard of that group.” Ozpin commented, “So your team and Mr Arc joined them, did you? Rather surprising that you would do such a thing… almost as surprising as you and your team quitting Beacon shortly after Mr Arc. Care to elaborate?”

“I saw… things that didn’t sit well with me.”

“I find that rather puzzling, considering your past actions.”

“Those are in the past. I have moved past those misconceptions.” Cardin responded to Professor Goodwitch’s comment.

“So what did you see, that made you leave and join the same company that Mr Arc did?” Ozpin questioned, “What was so troubling to you, considering your… past relationship with much of the student population.”

“I will openly admit, I was not the best behaved of the students here, but even as miserable a person I was… there are some lines I wouldn’t cross.” Cardin offered, “Jaune was weak, and I bullied him for it… but as loathe as I am to admit it, I saw potential in him, the little bastard wouldn’t give up. He never gave up, he always climbed back to his feet.”

“I will agree to that assessment… Mr Arc was rather stubborn.”

“Well, what do you think of Jaune just suddenly giving up? Didn’t that seem… odd to you?” Cardin asked his former teachers, “It did to me, especially when his team and friends didn’t notice?”

“So you chose to leave Beacon when he did? Interesting.”

“I feel we are getting off-topic, Headmaster.” Cardin spoke as he pulled a rather ratty and dog-eared leather-bound journal from the pouch at his side. “This is what I wished to speak to you about. Inside you will find descriptions of all the… visions Jaune has had about Beacon.”

“I see.” Ozpin commented as he reached out for the book Cardin offered.

“You can thank Jaune for us coming here. He was adamant that you be warned.” Cardin commented, “I on the other hand, didn’t care. What happens at Beacon is Beacon’s business, not ours… Though the thought of those who should be defended and protected falling into harm’s way did not sit well with any of us.”

“I see.” Ozpin placed the journal upon the top of his desk. “For someone who had been… so…”

“I do not expect you to understand my decision, or that of my team, but…” Cardin cut off the Headmaster, “Jaune’s strength has carried us through many situations that we should have been… overwhelmed with, and that will be the last I say on the subject.”

“Very well.” Ozpin conceded, “I would like to speak with Mr Arc when he is available to do so.”

“Understood. If there is nothing else?”

“No, that will be all.” Ozpin answered, “Glynda would you escort Mr Winchester to the lodgings we’ve arranged.”

Glynda just nodded, before stepping forward and directing Cardin back towards the elevator.

/== Table of Contents ==/

#saints of the sword #volume one #rwby #cardin winchester #jaune arc #various OCs #team jnpr #team rwby #team crdl #mental manipulation

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total-drama-takes-the-squeakquel · 27 days

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https://www.tumblr.com/total-drama-takes-the-squeakquel/746212368952033280/httpswwwtumblrcomtotal-drama-takes-the-squeak

Hey! I was the one who posted that ‘Carrie is one of the most misunderstood character’ post on the blog! :] and I heard you wanted me to elaborate on that and give you my Carrie takes, so here it is :D (also, I’m really hoping that the post link works.) and if I didn’t elaborate that much, I apologize :’)

-Carrie, like all the other RR characters, is mostly overshadowed by the ones who get the most enjoyable feedback by fans who watched the spinoff. Like sisters, cadets, reality TV pros, you get the point (it’s mostly the characters from the Total Drama series). And as a person who really enjoyed Ridonculous Race, I find it really sad to see many characters being forgotten and never really talked about. :(

-Back when the show was popular, a few people hated Carrie for being ‘selfish’. In my opinion, I disagree. Because throughout the show (and according to the Total Drama Wiki, yes I’m citing evidence just to avoid plagiarism) “Despite her displays of shyness sometimes, Carrie’s not afraid to branch out and befriend with her fellow competitors, showing herself to be a friendly person who loves to meet new people.” To conclude this, she doesn’t just focus on Devin, but will be glad to help other teams if they needed it :)

-Devin was in a horrible relationship with her ex, Shelley.. EUGH I get bad vibes when I hear that name. So yeah basicallyyyy

Carrie >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Shelley

- I hear that many people complain about her design and my honest response is… I just go with the flow, I think all TD designs are fine by me. I personally think Carrie’s design adds a nice aesthetic to it! I never complain about TD designs because that’s just what the artstyle is like.

-I didn’t find her plot with Devin too boring. Instead, I thought it was really enjoyable. The best friends are really entertaining to me and that’s why they’re my favorite RR team!

Overall, Carrie is an amazing RR character that gets overshadowed, and I’d hate to see it happen. As a Carrie fan, it is my duty to make 10280290282080 posts about her and make everyone go insane /j… but really, I hope this is enough explanation for you :)

#total drama #long post #the ridonculous race #carrie td

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whumpshaped · 3 months

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Happy New Year!

A New Year tradition in my area is the Mummers parade, which is...awesome to watch, just as a side note.

I don't know how much you know about Mummers, Mummery, whatever, but it's got me thinking.

Part of the performances, especially for the String Bands and Fancy Brigades, are these HUGE costumes covered in feathers and sparkles. And once a year, today, the entire day is dedicated to performing and competing.

So, a character, who's already not feeling the greatest, still shoving themself into the performance, into this big, heavy costume. Perhaps they're even a Captain, and their costume is the biggest and most elaborate of all (though not just the captains get the big outfits).

They get out to perform, they're on top of a tall prop, and they just.

They pass out.

They fall.

They're direly ill, overheating, too weak to hold the weight of their costume, it's the most important day of the year and they suffer and fall in front of hundreds of people.

How will they deal with that? How will the people who care about them deal with that? While this prompt doesn't have to strictly lead to something Mummers related, most Mummers brigades are largely family and friends based, where members are often brothers and fathers and grandfathers, three, four generations of family out there.

Sorry, rambly. But it's new years, who isn't?

~𐂂

hey check out this cool thing the mummers parade reminded me of

tw sickfic, self-blame

This was the most important event of the year. Whumpee had practised tirelessly for the past months, in costume, out of costume, with the rest of the team, and without. This was the first ever year that the team decided they were fit to lead the choreography, and they couldn’t afford to betray that trust. Especially not in front of the baroness.

Except the overexertion was starting to take a toll on their body. As the date of the performance approached, Whumpee’s anxiety was becoming quite extreme. They were foregoing meals, sleep, any rest at all, and when the weather turned bad, they refused to stay inside instead of practising. With two days left until the parade, Whumpee fell ill.

It was miserable. They used all their leftover strength to pretend they were okay, going through the motions of the choreography in a dizzy haze. They had to do it. They had to go out there and show up for the team. They had to be perfect.

The day before, Whumpee couldn’t get out of bed. They told everyone they were preparing mentally, and the excuse seemed to work. Nobody even questioned them. Everyone was preoccupied with their own worries, they didn’t have time to get suspicious and investigate. And what would it have achieved, even if they had? No, it was much better this way. Whumpee knew they would feel better the next day.

They were wrong.

They saw two of every costume as they staggered into the dressing room, staring straight ahead while one of their friends helped them get into their attire. Their ears felt like they were plugged up, like all the sounds were coming from underwater. They couldn’t focus on a single word that was spoken, and they could only hope it wasn’t information they hadn’t heard a thousand times before.

The sun was too bright, the music was too loud, the prop they had to get up on was too tall, and their head felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton. Muscle memory carried them through the entire first half of the performance, and not even the baroness’s royal presence could penetrate through the fog that enveloped their mind. They didn’t feel anxious anymore. It was almost like the calm before the storm.

Whumpee got on one leg and kicked the other to the side, then reached both their hands up towards the sky—

The world suddenly tilted. The clouds were moving way too fast for a day with not so much as a light breeze, and Whumpee was distantly aware that it wasn’t actually the clouds that were moving; it was them, having lost their balance and falling backwards with nothing to soften the impact.

They gasped in pain as their back hit the asphalt, their head colliding with it just a moment later. If there had been any air left in their lungs, they might have laughed at the absurdity of it. All that practice… all to embarrass themself and all their friends in front of the baroness and her lackeys.

The music didn’t stop, but several of the people on their team rushed to their side, yelling to them and each other simultaneously. Whumpee stared past them, up at the beautiful, winter sky.

They wondered whether they’d ever see it again, after having ruined the baroness’s entertainment.

#asks #deer anon #sickfic #self blame #overexertion #whump #whump drabble

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tobiasdrake · 3 months

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Now that Story Time's over, we can get to work keeping the promise I made to my personal temporal admirer. And also Serai.

Okay, team. We should expect not to have the element of surprise because I just leaned over the edge and shouted a message for the past into the clouds. I do not apologize.

I know we're all a little freaked out about Hollow TIA over there but if we grit our teeth and bear with it, I'm sure we can adjust.

We are here to carry out two tasks: To butcher the Catalyst with extreme prejudice and to commit catastrophic amounts of vandalism. I'm pretty sure we're all familiar with the process of aggravated homicide so I don't think we need to dwell much on the Catalyst's part of the plan.

For the other, here's how we're breaking it down.

Plan A: Find a way to disable the cloud cover and instead restore the Sky Base's original functionality as a climate regular. I call this the boring option.

Plan B: Find a way to pilot the Sky Base and send it crashing down directly into Fort Fleshy, preferably aiming for whatever looks like the most elaborate part of the building. I call this the fun option. But I have reluctantly agreed to try the boring route first.

So I guess we should refrain from being too overly destructive until we know which option we're going with.

Turtle machines with grasping spider claws. Wow, I hate it.

Serai, remind me to set this place on fire before we put it on its collision course. Or... reprogram it, I guess. I can set it on fire while we're reprogram it, that works too.

I do not love how much of this place is open to the air below. Or the way only some parts have guardrails.

More effort was made than with Zenith Academy but there are still safety concerns to be had nonetheless.

Holy shit, I can see the Sea of Stars from up here.

Serai, I thought about this on our way here but your world has an eerie beauty to its atmosphere, despite everything. Like a captivating aquamarine floating in the ocean of the cosmos.

Sorry, I'm getting a little choked up. Let's go paint it red.

Are... are we going to have to go into space?

Hang on. Serai, you're a robot. B'st is a glass golem. Hollow Resh'an is a doll.

...the three of you probably can, in fact, go into space. But what about me and Zale? We do draw our magic from celestial bodies. Can we... like... solstice powers our way into not having to breathe or something?

That would have been way more dramatic if machines could bleed.

Well, I guess we're going to find out. I hope you just made good choices, Serai, because we're committed to them now.

Oh, what!? They have force fields up over all the damaged sections! We're fine, then. Honestly, what's even the point of locking down the sector if it's perfectly safe to access?

B'st, your shapeshifting is hilarious and makes it incredibly difficult for me to hold my concentration. XD

I'm glad to see you're getting the hang of your Living Glass body.

How much higher could there possibly be for us to go?

I can't even see the planet out the window anymore. We're so far up now, I think we might be in space space.

Why are we in space space? In what possible way is this necessary for climate regulation? I think an architect wanted to see how tall they could get away with making the structure before their boss noticed.

And if their boss was anything like Moraine, the answer is "very".

SERAI!? THE WALL IS TRYING TO SELL ME THINGS. Should I punch it, yes or no?

I don't necessarily mean that in self-defense, if we wanted to rob the wall instead.

That is a metal rock. I don't know what I was expecting the Catalyst to be but "metal rock" wasn't it. I was anticipating another flesh abomination.

I'm sorry, Serai. I may have gotten ahead of myself. I promised you a murder, but this is more of a vandalism. I will nonetheless carry out excessive vandalism with extreme prejudice for you. That's what friends are for.

*ahem*

HEY ASSHOLE! OVER HERE! I'M HERE TO FILE A FORMAL COMPLAINT! See, I've been looking all over the place since we got here and I have not seen a single wall worth hunting anywhere. I demand to know where you're keeping the Wall Meat.

Oh. I. Um. I didn't think you'd actually be able to meet me halfway on that. Okay. This is awkward.

But. If you insist.

I WILL RIP OUT YOUR METAL FLESH, GIVE ME SUSTENANCE YOU UNFEELING BASTARD, I KNOW YOU HAVE IT

Nope, I still feel ripped off. These walls suck and have nothing but these stupid fleshless turrets in them. You can't eat any of this shit.

...though apparently B'st disagrees. Alright, knock yourself out, man. I'll be over here, holding out for dessert. Thanks, B'stie!

But, honestly, as much as I'm itching to crunch my staff through that big glass eye thing on its front... I can't bring myself to do it.

This is your moment, Serai. Go ahead and finish it.

...this moment would probably be stronger if machines could bleed but I hope you found some closure in this all the same.

I don't know who that is but we'll fuck them up too. A cornucopia of violence, we are going to unleash upon this dead world.

You were a good friend to us, and to Garl. Pretty much anyone who's even mildly inconvenienced you, I am willing to bury in a shallow grave. The Cerulean Expanse has plenty of space.

#sea of stars #drake plays sea of stars

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krystalkitdemi · 4 months

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Multiplayer part 5

You were relieved to find all of your friends. But you were more worried about 4 as she had gotten a pretty deep cut and she has not elaborated since she had been found. In fact, she had been clinging to Deimos during the trip to the base and through the initial medical check that Doc did. Deimos was patient at first at this new tiny human clinging to him like a monkey from her being your friend and you looking happy that he was carrying her so gently, but he only had so much patience. "Okay, that's enough. Player! Don't you have to patch her up?," The chainsmoking grunt asked. You nodded and tapped 4, who had dozed off while clinging to Deimos, "Hey, Wake up. I need to change your bandages." 4 did not move for a second before nodding and following you back to the medbay. 3 was already there as you had been looking at her injuries and teaching Doc about humans while doing so.

3 perked up when seeing 4, "Is she gonna be okay, 1?" You nodded and had 4 take her shirt off to have a better look at the wound, "She will be, I just want to get it cleaned so that she does not get an infection." 3 put a hand on her own abdominal scar. She sighed then huffed when 4 signed something. "No, I don't think it's cool we both have similar scars. I don't want you to...," 3 silenced herself, "We've been through enough already." "I concur.," You added in while dabbing a sanitizing solution on 4's wound, "Since your injuries are more minor, Can you help 2 unload the truck?" 3 hopped off the table and walked out of the medbay. Doc was still watching you work on 4. You took out some stitching packs. "I really wanted her out of here since she doesn't like medical treatment.," You told doc, "4 is going to need some stitches from how deep it went. Oh, 4, You never told me what happened."

Doc watched as you silently watched 4's hand movements and nod. "Your friend has not said anything.," He commented. "She is. What she is doing is called 'sign language', She is communicating like that.," You explained, "4 is mute. She has been unable to speak for a long time." Doc nodded and seemed to note that. He also noticed that 4 was watching him as intently as he was watching her. She looked at you and made a motion with one of her hands before pointing to Doc. "That's right, This is Doc.," you responded and saw a little smile appear on 4's face. You got 4 to sit still as you carefully stitched the long and deep cut closed. "So you were found by the Nexus. Was it scary?," you asked her and got a 'no' from her before she made an 'a little' gesture. You gave her a small smile, you could tell she was in pain, yet she never had made a sound. Doc leaned in to watch your dainty and clean stitch work. His gaze lifted up to 4 as she was looking at him quietly. Her eyes seemed to light up slightly, her small hand reached out to has much larger one and touched the thick and grey skin. 4 pulled her hand back quickly.

You could tell that Doc got a bit annoyed by her sudden touch. "Yes, their skin does feel a lot different from our own. But you could have had me ask permission before you tapped him.," You told 4 before she put her fist in front of her chest and made a circle, "She just apologized, Doc." "I can forgive her curiosity.," Doc sighed before adding a quiet, 'Only because you're here.' You finished with stitching the wound close and wrapped your mute friend with clean bandages. "4, I hope you don't mind, But I cannot let you go out on missions like this.," You told her, "You're going to stay here in the base while you recover." She gave a nod back and looked at Doc again. You smiled at seeing your mute friend getting excited. You helped her get off the medical table and back out to where the others were. You got her to sit down and addressed the group. You introduced your friends to the guys, making sure to emphasize how much they mean to you.

You then made the announcement that each player will be teamed with a grunt everyday and that pairing will change each day. You would be paired with Hank for the first day, 2 will be teamed with Sanford, 3 with Deimos, and finally 4 with Doc. "Are you serious?!," 3 asked, "He smells like an ashtray!" "Well you act like a bitch.," Deimos shot back. "Hey now, I don't see any harm in it.," 2 cut in placidly, "May be fun to work together." You began to smooth things over with the others and got them to finally agree to the arrangement. You knew that this would be the most fair for everyone, although some were more enthusiastic at this than others. As soon as tomorrow rolled around, everyone left for their missions with their assigned player partners. You and Hank went off to raid an AAHW facility that Doc had been made aware of, 2 and 3 set off with Sanford and Deimos to scout out areas and warehouses for any supplies and clear out zeds. Doc stayed back at base to give any informational support and to be on standby if anything happened, with 4 silently watching him all the while.

Hank J. Wimbleton:

Hank acted like his usual self for you. He was just as brutal and bloodthirsty as he ever was. But he seemed to have more of an edge today, as if something was bothering him more. As the day ran on, he got more and more agitated. He was covered by blood and viscera by the time he was finished clearing out the room, but he still looked angry. "Is there something wrong, Hank?," you asked him. He did not answer, instead turning his head away from you and looking at the bodies he littered around the floor. "Hank. If it is about having to rotate partners, that is to make sure everyone has fair time with each other.," You explained, "You may not like my friends, but you will have to tolerate them." You heard an angered huff from Hank, this was something that was annoying him even more than having to share you with the others. Now he was also being forced to spend time with other players. People he deemed not as perfect or competant as you.

You have to assure him that everything will be okay, that your relationship with him is not in danger in any way. That your friends are there to help with the mission at hand. Hank was still not convinced. His body language alone made it clear that he was not happy with this. You began to reconsider about having the others pair with him one day. Especially 3 and 4. 3 would piss him off to no end and 4 would be eaten alive. You need to think of a way to get everyone to get along until all of you can return home.

Sanford:

Sanford was not very enthusiastic about being paired with your friend, but at least he did not get the overly aggressive one that his buddy got. The buff grunt silently drove with 2 on the passenger's side, leasurely smiling and looking out the window. The teashade wearing grunt could hear the quiet argument that 3 and Deimos were getting into in the back of the truck. "Mighty quiet today, yeah?," 2 asked, "Kinda like back home, 'cept I know that I'm not gonna hear from my family or any animals anytime soon." "It sure is quiet. Almost too quiet.," Sanford replied. "I'm sure we'll be fine.," 2 said and gave Sanford a smile, "Just a small mission, right?" "We usually have player for missions like this.," Sanford retorted.

"You got us as well now.," 2 responded with a friendly smile, "And I look forward to working with you." Sanford did not want to work with this young man, he wanted to work with you. He reminded himself that he would get a say with you once it was his turn to. At least this human did not seem to be too difficult to work with. 2 on the other hand was pretty happy to work with Sanford, given he had been the one who played Sanford for a while in some playthroughs with you and the others. He was quite comfortable with the large and muscular grunt. He figured that he can get along with Sanford even though the grunt did not seem to be very enthusiastic about their temporary teamup.

Sanford watched as his temporary partner was scolding player 3 after the young woman kept getting into arguments with Deimos. The smoker grunt walked up beside his old friend and lit up a cigarette. "Lets get this shit overwith. I want to get back to spending time with player as soon as possible.," Deimos hissed as his sharp teeth gripped onto the lit stick of tobacco. Sanford nodded to his friend's words. He also wanted to get this done as quickly as possible. After 2 finished scolding 3, The young man walked with Sanford over to where they were going to scout. The hat wearing player snuck with sanford, Keeping his hand on a handgun he had taken from you when he left.

2 heard gunshots from further in the warehouse and the angered scream of 3. Sanford immediately loaded his gun and peeked around a corner. "Shit, we got some zeds.," the teashade wearing grunt whispered. "Damn. These things were always annoying to put down.," 2 replied as he readied his firearm by checking how much ammo he had. The two checked around for areas they could restock their ammo before Sanford and 2 started their assult to clear out the warehouse. Much to Sanford's surprise, 2 kept up with him, Even picking up large bludgeoning weapons to beat down the zeds with after he ran out of bullets. The cowboy hat wearing human kept an out out for his partner, striking down a zed that tried to ambush Sanford when he was struggling with one that was trying to bite him. "Ya good, man?," 2 asked as he kicked back a zed. "I am, thanks.," Sanford replied and shot the same zed, killing it. The sounds from further into the warehouse continued, making 2 go look. "Deimos and 3 found the hole.," 2 said, "Hey, you still carry explosives on you?" "Of course I do.," Sanford replied and patted one of the pouches on his belt, "Thinking of plugging the hole?" 2 nodded and pointed to the explosive barrels and construction materials, "We have enough just right here to do so." "Right. Good eye, kid.," Sanford nodded with a small smile, "Get 3, I'll get Deimos." 2 jumped over the barrels he was hiding behind and grabbed 3, pulling her back as Sanford yelled for Deimos. The larger, muscular grunt threw a package of explosives at the weakened point between the hole and the construction materials, causing the stacked materials to cave in and plug the hole. 2 used his own body to protect 3 from the flying rubble.

Once the dust settled, They found their plan was executed perfectly. The hole was plugged, zeds were dead, and now they could look for supplies as they needed. Deimos and 3 still bickered, but 2 felt that they had a pretty good day overall. Although they all needed a wash when they returned to base.

Deimos:

Deimos was not very happy about being paired up with 3. All the way to the warehouses, they bickered and insulted each other. Both hotheads getting so worked up by the other that Sanford and 2 both had to step in and get them to cool off. The backpack wearing grunt scoffed and lit his thumb aflame with his pyrokinesis to light up a cigarette. As soon as the cigarette was lit, it was put out by the lit part being cut off by a quick motion of strings. The red threads Deimos traced back to 3's fingertips. "The hell was that for?," He growled raspily. "Not a fan of smelling like cancer sticks.," The leather jacket wearing player replied. Deimos made a silent snarl, showing his sharp teeth in a show if disdain towards 3.

"You're even more of a dog than I thought.," 3 commented and leaned back in the seat she was in. Deimos hissed, "Says the bitch." They made mocking faces at each other before 2 pulled 3 away. "Whoah nelly, Let's cool down before getting to the warehouse.," The cowboy hat wearing player chuckled, "Let's save the heat for firefight." After 2 scolded 3 for a bit, the humans and grunts paired off with their designated partner for the mission at hand. Deimos took the lead and snuck through the warehouse as Player 3 followed closely behind him. Deimos peeked around corners to check for enemies as 3 kept her eyes darting around for any movement. 3 covered her nose suddenly and gripped Deimos' jacket. "Hey, What the fu-", Deimos started to yell before getting hit with the stench of necrotic flesh. The hissing gurgles and grunts of zeds alerted him of a nearby horde. He knew that he had to find were the zeds were coming into the warehouse from and plug that hole immediately. Deimos checked his weapons and reloaded his guns before sneaking closer to the horde to look for the access point they were flooding into the warehouse from. He let out a small growl, showing his sharp teeth in frustration, Not only did he not have his best friend or the player for backup, he had to rely on the most annoying bitch to watch his back. How she would be able to help him? She was not the player, even if she was a player. 3 had crimson strings freely flowing from her fingertips, weaving together to make strong whips that blades appeared on. She remembered how annoying zeds were. Perhaps dismembering them would make it easier to get rid of them? She may not be too tactical, but at least she could try that. "We have to find and plug the hole they are coming in from.," Deimos whispered to the woman player begrudgingly, "But I don't have anything to plug it." 3 looked around at their surroundings, this warehouse had a lot of building equipment and material. Perhaps enough to plug the hole that the zeds were using to infiltrate this area. Their small breathing time was interrupted by a zed finding them and letting out a shriek, the foul breath making 3 gag in disgust. These monstrosities were just as disgusting as she thought they would be. "How repulsive.," She hissed and let loose her whip like string tendrils, allowing the blades to cut the limbs of the zed off. This gave the surrounding zeds the location of the two intruders. A great horde of stinking and rotting grunts stumbled towards Deimos and 3, grumbling and growling all the while. 3 screamed in frustration and let her blade tipped whips slash the zombified grunts while Deimos shot at them, Both quickly avoiding attacks from their rotting undead enemies.

"I'm going to need a bath after this!," 3 yelled in anger, "And I dont care who I have to push outta the way to get it!" "Get in line, bitch.," Deimos snarked and shot the cranium off of a zed he was fighting. Green flesh, coagulated blood, and rotten viscera covered the ground as they fought the horde. 3's blades were effective at slowing the horde by removing their limbs while deimos took the walking dead out by shots to the head. After what felt likes hours of fighting, they found the sinkhole that the zeds were pouring out of. The Two kept fighting and fighting until 3 felt herself being pulled back by a strong large hand. She heard Sanford shout for Deimos to get back before a small package was flung towards the hole. 3 was covered by the larger player before an explosion was set off.

The explosion plugged the hole as the group looked at the result. It worked out. Now that they had cleared the zeds out, they could finally look around and check for supplies before heading home.

2bdamned:

Doc was not pleased about being assigned to watch over such a small and weak player. Even you yourself called 4 'delicate and unsuited to Nevada'. The team's medic looked back at the tiny creature that he was supposed to keep an eye on, she was cleaning his lab as he asked and sorting the supplies as directed. At least she could follow orders. The worst thing for him, however, was that she didn't make a single sound or much expression of indication as to what she was thinking. Sure, Hank was the same way with how much he covered his face, but Doc could read his body language. He could not do the same with 4. She ws a mystery to him. He felt a certain unease with not knowing how to deal with her. But he could not hurt her in any way, lest you become angry.

He ended a call with Deimos, who was calling in to give an update on the situation and bitch about 3, before noticing that 4 was no longer in the lab with him. Doc got up and took his empty coffee cup with him to look around and see if he could find her. When he did find her, he found that she had already made a fresh batch of coffee for him and had cleaned some more of the base. The petite player was sweeping some dirt out of the door when he found her. Doc had no idea where in Nevada she had found a broom. Her eyes still had a somber expression as a small, almost nonexistant smile appeared on her lips. Doc was about to ask her something before he caught himself, remembering you told him that she was unable to speak. That eliminated communication as he did not know how to read her 'sign language'. 4 looked down at the broom then back up to Doc before pointing to the hallway that led to the rooms the others slept in. "Are you asking if it is okay to clean their rooms?," Doc inquired before getting a nod from the silent young woman, "Do what you want. I'm not going to stop you."

Without even the sound of footsteps, the mute player ran off to clean the rest of the base, almost like she was eager to make herself useful. Doc ignored her for the most part after this, letting her clean and do laundry. 4 did not dare bother him or try to annoy him. Doc noticed that a few hours had passed and everything was eerily silent, even the intermittent sounds of the vacuum cleaner that 4 somehow found was no longer heard. The unliscensed doctor stood and went to look out to check on what was going on outside the lab.

4 was at the stove, standing on a overturned container while cooking something. The petite player looked back to smile slightly at him and made some sign language movements with her hands before stopping after remembering that he could not read her movements. She looked down and returned to what she was doing with a body language that expressed disappointment. It was something that Doc could at least read from the tiny player. She turned down the heat on the stove after seeming to get an idea and hopped off the container she was using as a stepstool. She got a clean piece of paper and a pencil before she wrote on the paper and showed it to doc. He leaned in and read the words on the paper.

"I am making dinner, would you like something in the meantime?"

The masked grunt shook his head, "No. I am not hungry at the moment." He cut down to look at the stitches peeking out from under the shirt, They looked to be irritated from the mute player moving around and working so much. Not that he cared. The tiny young woman looked down, as if disappointed again before returning to her task at hand. Doc in turn, got more coffee that she had made and returned to his desk to await the return of the others.

#madness combat #madness project nexus #self aware m:pn au #mama fox writing #self aware multiplayer m:pn au

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