#<- ah ! new acronym !

[tango-but-everywhere]

the secret silly

Impulse, Secret Life (!!!) episode 1

[ID: a minecraft screenshot from secret life, taken in the cherry blossom biome. Tango is looking at the viewer, walking down the hill toward and to the right. He’s in his normal skin, wearing diamond boots and iron armour, though there’s a texture pack for minimal armour on. He’s holding a shield and a bed. End ID]

[sysig]

I haven't played the original Half-Life all the way through, but I played Black Mesa (the fan remake with updated graphics and whatnot) and apparently they cut the tedious parts of On A Rail down by quite a bit. It might be worth looking into if that's what made the game hard to get through! I really enjoyed it, personally ^^ I'm super excited to potentially see more Stanley Parable posts as well, since I got TSPUD recently and loved it! Congrats on the achievement!!

Oohh, sounds interesting :0 I'm a bit of a stubborn SOB when it comes to Games-I've-Already-Got haha, so I'll probably still try to see this version through, but thank you for the tip! Likely I'll need it if I ever want to subject myself to going back through to look for specific level details that YouTube videos simply will not pause long enough on lol

Congrats to you as well on getting to play Ultra! I still can't swing the price just yet, but I also refuse to engage in spoilers aside from quickly glancing away from thumbnails, darn algorithms knowing what I'm interested in, not giving a care about spoilers! Lol

But you can be sure to expect Stanley stuff, it's a game I love <3

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

(cw: age gap 25/41, nsfw, mdni 18+, sloppy blow/handjob, one (or two) d-slaps, praise, könig is big (i think, that is canon by now), swallowing)

part before: breaking the bed

I ring the doorbell. My cat’s carrier in the one hand, Mimi meowing softly. A backpack in the other.

König opens the door and I look up at him and…

He’s wearing glasses.

Right there on his nose. Black framed glasses. My jaw drops as he smiles down at me, completely unaware.

“Hey.”, he greets me, leaning down and pressing a kiss to my cheek, while his hand shoots out to take the pet carrier from me.

“You have glasses?”, I ask incredulously, letting go of the handle.

The smile falls off his face. “Ah scheiße, I forgot to take them off.”, he mutters, turning away.

“Did you fucking hide them from me?”, I say, still trying to wrap my head around it.

"No, I just need them to read.”, he grumbles as I close the door behind me and follow him into the living room.

He sets Mimi's carrier down and opens the door to let her out, the little kitty traipsing out carefully, getting to explore the new surroundings while we get the rest of the stuff from my car. I didn’t pack that much because it’s only temporary, staying with him until we get the bed situation fixed. There's actually more for the little minx than for me. Her toilet, her cat food, the basket. And then the second box with my stuff that König carries up to the bedroom while I set her basket down next to the couch, and then go to sit down and watch her zoomies.

I laugh, when I see him coming down the stairs again, the glasses still on his nose. The giant with the tattooed arms, all dressed in black, a Death shirt on, the five o’clock shadow, the long hair that he pushed out of his face… and then those black rimmed square glasses. I laugh even more as he shoots me a glare, a deathly one.

He drops onto the couch right beside me, pulling me into him as he grumbles something grumpily in German. I kiss him, telling him that he looks even more attractive with the glasses on. "They are totally fine. So fine even.", I say, pressing another kiss to his cheek, his stubble scratching against the sensitive skin of my lips.

"Really?" He looks at me skeptically. With the glasses that just makes me want to give him another kiss. It's criminal how good he looks with them on.

"Yeah.", I answer truthfully, and I can’t help the little smile coming through. Has he really hidden them from me? Is that… a little hint of insecurity I am seeing behind the serious expression, the cocked eyebrow arching over the glasses?

"No ‘old man’-talk then, huh?", he comments, pointedly.

I laugh. "Maybe a little bit... They are giving you major dilf-vibes.", I say, biting back a giggle.

He furrows his brows, looking at me with a confused stare. "Dilf-vibes?", he echoes, and I explain it to him, of course, a bright mischievous grin plastered onto my face. The only part of the acronym that sticks is that I'd like to fuck him.

"Hm, really? Like right now?", he smirks at me, mischief sparking in his eyes, his large hand stroking up my back. The cocky expression on his face dissipates as I drop onto my knees on the floor, right in front of him, my hands quickly reaching for the waistband of his jeans.

I look up at him, a sultry smile stalking onto my lips, when I pop the button of his pants and lower the zipper. He groans when I take out his dick, his length hardening quickly, as my fingers wrap around him. He slides forward, shimmying his jeans down a bit and spreading his thighs, making room for me between them. I scoot closer, leaning over, and take his tip into my mouth. Sucking on it. Feeling him grow, while my eyes search his.

His head falls back, as I work him, breaking the eye contact, soft moans dropping from his lips. His hand moves up to take his glasses off, but I stop him.

I release him with a pop. “No, leave them on.”, I ask. “Please.”

“You really like them that much, hm?”, he asks, pulling up one eyebrow, but a smirky grin stalks onto his lips, and his hands drop down again, the right one digging into the cushions of the armrest.

“I do.”, I say, my expression mirroring his, as I move my hand up and down his length lazily, which makes him groan again, his hips rutting forward.

I’m getting cocky (no pun intended), just grab him at the base and slap his hard dick against my cheek. It even makes a little noise, so I do it again, this time a bit harder. His jaw drops a little, his eyes widening in surprise, before mischief sparks in them.

“I wanted to do that for quite some while.”, I whisper, still grinning up at him.

He laughs a little bit, the smile on his face smirky and lustful, while his gaze gets heated. “You're not even half as innocent as you look."

"What's that supposed to mean?", I ask him, gripping him tighter, moving my hand quicker now as I jerk him off.

"Oh, you know, Fräulein.", he just says, the last word turning into a moan when I squeeze the tip with my fingers.

Instead of an answer I lean forward again, my eyes not leaving his while I teasingly lick it before I close my lips around him. Slowly moving down his length. His breath hitches, a quiet treacherous sound, his eyes intently watching what I’m doing.

I try to take him deeper, letting the tip hit the back of my throat, and I can feel tears well in the corner of my eyes. I'm not stopping until they're running down my face, the wet drops slowly rolling down my cheeks. His hips jerk up, pushing his dick a little further still as I bop my head up and down his length, at least as far as I can take him. Not even fitting half of him, but that doesn’t deter him.

"Mmh, look at you, swallowing me down like a good girl.", he drawls, his words breathy, his gaze fixed on my lips that are fitted around his girth. The praise washes over me, and I can feel a tingle down my spine.

It spurs me on, I can feel how wetness seeps into my panties, kneeling before him like this. Taking him deeper until I gag around him, strings of my spit covering him, some of it dropping down further.

But there is no use trying to make him fit down my throat, he is just too thick. I pull back, letting myself breathe again, licking the underside of his shaft which makes him shiver. I move to the top, not stopping the nibbles and sloppy kisses, until my tongue is dragging over the sensitive spot, his foreskin sliding back and forth while I jerk him off at the same time. I can taste the salty hints of precum and feel the metal of his piercing as I toy with the tip.

The sounds that drop from his lips are divine. Soft grunts, deep and gravelly, low breaths. Gripping the cushions with his hand, his fingers of the other one running through his hair. His head is tilting back, every so often, but his eyes don't want to leave me. Seeing how I play with his pierced tip. How my hands run up and down his dick. I spit, letting a dollop of saliva drip down onto him before I spread it down his length to lube him up even more.

"Ah, scheiße.", he grumbles, rolling his eyes back.

I work him with both my hands, my fingers sliding over his soft hot skin easily, his dick slick with my spit. They still barely fit around his girth as I move them a bit faster, finding a steady rhythm, until he's moving restlessly, fucking up into my hands.

I bend forward, taking the tip in my mouth. I fit my lips around him, my cheeks hollow. My eyes are meeting his while I look up at him, and his hips buck up, pushing him a bit deeper which has me gag around him.

"Fuck, just like that." The low gravelly whisper is the only thing he says before I feel him pulsing in my mouth, warm sticky cum shooting down my throat. I hum around him, licking everything up as he comes, and I keep sucking him until I can feel him softening in my mouth.

I pull back, letting him slip out, and drop my jaw to show him his cum in my mouth, the white liquid sitting on my tongue. The sight lets him groan again and I swallow it down, the taste lingering.

I get up from the floor and crawl onto the couch again, wiping over my chin in a quick motion. His dick is still out, resting against his stomach, and he pulls the pants up, to let me take a seat on his thighs.

“Do you believe me now, that I really like your glasses?”, I ask him, pressing my lips to his in a quick kiss, then I steal them from his nose to set it onto mine.

He laughs. “I do.” His hand shoots up, his thumb softly grazing over my cheek, his fingers pushing some of my hair back, his eyes trailing my face, every single bit of it.

“How do I look?”, I ask him, trying to pull a serious grimace, like he always does when he tries to mask his jokes.

“Looking good.” He grins at me while I drop the expression and pose, placing my chin on the back of my hands, batting my eyelashes at him. “And way cuter than me.”, he adds, giving my nose a little peck.

“Well, that’s not difficult.”, I shoot back, sticking my tongue out at him.

We laugh a little, and I cannot fight the smile that adorns my face. It’s so simple and casual, the way we’re sitting here, me on his lap after just blowing him. His arm wrapped around me, his other hand softly stroking over my thigh. The warmth of his body against mine, his scent in my nose, my hands tangled in his hair. His presence alone is stirring something in me, the feelings still new and yet familiar at the same time.

Today at work, my thoughts came back to his offer of staying at his place and I had some doubts. Feeling like I was intruding again, even though he was adamant about not letting me sleep on just a mattress in my own apartment, after he broke my bed, and inviting me to stay with him. At least until we got it fixed. And sitting here with him like this, I don’t know anymore why I even thought twice about it.

There’s just something that has been roaming my mind all day. And now I'm thinking about it again, I can't push it away, though it might be a bit of a weird timing. I just...

I hand him back the glasses, he takes them and I sigh. "I wanted to talk to you about something.", I start then.

He puts the glasses on the end table next to the couch, but his head whips in my direction when I speak. "What is it, Kleine?", he wants to know, his arm around my waist pulling me closer.

"Uh, sorry, I'm bad at this but – and we don't have to put any labels on it or anything – but now that I'm also staying at your place and everything..." I pause and he just looks at me, his brows pulled up. Patiently waiting for me to finish my sentence. "We're dating, right? Like, exclusively?"

He nods slowly, his mouth tilting up into a little lop-sided smile, while he's still looking at me all serious. "I don't plan on seeing anyone else, so yeah, I think, you can call it dating or being exclusive, how the youngsters call it.", he says which pulls a little chuckle from me. "Whatever you wanna call it.", he concludes, squeezing my thigh once, a quick reassuring gesture.

"Okay.", I say, snuggling into him, my head resting on his shoulder, content with that answer.

"If you want to see other people though, that's fine too.", he adds after a second of hesitation, and I’m unsure how to interpret the tone in his voice.

The expression on my face drops when I realise what he means. I break away to look at him. "No! No, I mean, I wasn't asking for that reason. I just wanted to make sure, we were on the same page.", I explain. "I don't want to see anybody else either."

I don't have the nerves to tell him, that this had nothing – well, almost nothing – to do with him, but certain people in my past where expectations were built and not met. I just wanted to know to spare myself any unforeseen surprises in that department.

"Don't worry, Liebes.", he says, pulling me into him again. "As long as I'm on leave, you got me all to yourself." Pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"How long will that be?", I ask, ignoring the little flutter in my stomach. Excitement and dread mixing, hearing him say that I got him all to myself, while at the same time knowing that he will need to go back to his job sometime soon.

"Gonna know next week, when they send the details.", he answers, simply.

“Okay.”, I nod, not knowing what else to say to that, instead stretching up to kiss him again. Starting off slow, my lips pressing softly against his. My hand strokes over his face, feeling the scruff on his jaw beneath my fingertips, as we deepen the kiss.

His tongue strokes against mine, a touch that sends a pang of need between my legs and makes me squirm. I snuggle into his broad chest, and with how I’m draped over his lap, that makes his big burly thigh press against my clothed pussy, and I can’t hold back the moan that escapes my lips. A treacherous, obscene sound that he swallows up.

“What was that?”, he asks, mumbling against my lips, before he pulls back.

“Nothing.”, I say, feigning ignorance. Desperately trying not to subconsciously roll my hips over his muscly thighs, searching for more friction.

He just pulls an eyebrow up, not taking my shit.

“Well, you know. Somebody broke my bed instead of making me come this morning.”, I quip, a challenge in my voice and eyes, which has him look at me from under his eyebrows. The gaze alone is sending a shiver down my spine as it’s boring into me, heated and heavy.

“Oh really.”, he states, his voice deepening.

“Yes really.”, I say. “And…” I halt, trying to find the words. “Sucking your dick didn't help either.”

“Look at you, talking all dirty now, huh?”, he drawls, a mischievous grin cutting through his stern expression, seeming satisfied with my little comment.

“Well, you know, we’re getting there.”, I say, grinning at him. “Getting there, even if I’m not getting off.”, I poke at him again, teasingly rubbing myself over his thigh.

"And we can’t have that.", he states darkly, scooping me up in a quick motion.

He throws me over his shoulder which has me yelp: “König!” before he hurries up the stairs to the bedroom.

Continue right on in the next part: breaking me (not literally) or check out the full story in the Masterlist ~

a/n: this is cut short, cause the part right after is not finished yet, and although my wrist (got tendonitis :c) is already feeling a little better, i still need to rest it and this scene i only needed to proofread, i hope you understand &lt;3 also check out @idontknowreallyidontcare who also has a very nice post about König wearing glasses!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I kicked my boyfriend out of my apartment after he hit me?

You don't need to tell me he's an AH for hitting me, but what should I do about it?

I (19F) live in a studio apartment my parents pay for while I'm in college. My name is on the lease and they're guarantors. My boyfriend (22M) has a job but can't afford his own place. He moved in with me three months ago after we got more serious. He's never hit me before.

He got in an accident on the way to work on Friday. He's fine, but the car had to be towed. He called me, hoping I could drive him to work and get the car taken care of, but since I don't have classes until afternoon on Friday, I was asleep all morning. He left me some really angry voicemails but I thought he'd be over it by the end of the day. Apparently his boss was mad about him being late for work.

Anyway when he got home we had a fight. He was mad that slept though my phone ringing after he called me multiple times. (He knows I always sleep late on Fridays.) I told him I'm not his servant and he shouldn't act entitled to my time, which looking back was kinda mean considering everything that happened to him. I don't blame him for being mad. But he did hit me in the face. I panicked and ran out the front door and went to stay with a friend (19F) that night. At the time I was really scared because I've never been in like a physical fight since I was a kid, but looking back it wasn't really so bad. My face is only a little bruised, it's not like he gave me a black eye. BF and I have since talked about it and he apologized for scaring me but not really for hitting me. He was kinda acting like I was weird for running away.

My friend and her roommates all said I should break up with him over this. Some of them said I should kick him out of my apartment, but he's got nowhere else to go. (He's out of touch with his old roommates, and they probably have new roommates now anyway.) And anyway, how could I make him leave?

So WIBTA if I kicked him out?

What are these acronyms?

[hellsite-proteins]

oh you want cursed biochem acronyms? good god i’ve got some absolute Bricks to share.

piRNA - PIWI interacting RNA

PIWI and RNA are also both acronyms

PIWI - p-element-induced wimpy testis

yes they’re nesting acronyms now. yes i hate it.

UHRF1 - "ubiquitin-like, containing PHD and RING finger domains, 1"

once again PHD and RING are both acronyms. STOP NESTING ACRONYMS

PHD - plant homeodomain

RING - really interesting new gene

reading papers for genetics/biochem courses is like. ah how many random sequences of letters can we cram in here before people start calling bullshit. and apparently? it’s a lot.

today i googled GPS looking for 'global protein stability', and was completely shocked when i was reminded that there is a much more common use for that acronym. please share any more cursed acronyms you know in the notes!

letter sequence in this ask matching protein-coding amino acids:

hywantcrsedichemacrnymsgdgdivegtsmeaslterickstsharepiRNAPIWIinteractingRNAPIWIandRNAarealsthacrnymsPIWIpelementindcedwimpytestisyestheyrenestingacrnymsnwyesihateitHRFiqitinlikecntainingPHDandRINGfingerdmainsnceagainPHDandRINGarethacrnymsSTPNESTINGACRNYMSPHDplanthmedmainRINGreallyinterestingnewgenereadingpapersfrgeneticsichemcrsesislikeahhwmanyrandmseqencesfletterscanwecraminhereefrepeplestartcallingllshitandapparentlyitsalt

protein guy analysis:

this structure does a wonderful job illustrating the difference between secondary and tertiary structure. there is a decent amount of secondary structure, with lots of alpha helices of widely varying lengths. however, they do not actually come together to make anything. that is why, when you look at the surface, it is more holes than protein. it seems that unnatural, random proteins with a hydrophobic core may be more likely to aggregate and therefore more dangerous to the cells, but i'm not expressing these in anything anyways, so i still think it would be nice to have a good-looking image.

predicted protein structure:

cartoon representation

surface representation

[allyheart707]

Are you still taking art prompts?

I had an idea! It would be fun to see a little crossover between your fic and your comic!

Ex: Due to some cosmic glitch, Leo connects with LS Donnie instead of EDHPMW (tricky acronym lol) Donnie. Confusion ensues.

Leo: Where's Donnie..?

LS Donnie: I'll do you one better, WHO is Donnie?

Anyway, no pressure. Love to see your updates!

- Later, in a different universe -

Donatello. It was a name that felt as if it had been stuck on the tip of his tongue the second Carol had brought up naming them. He wasn’t sure why it felt so right, or where the warm feeling came from- like a dream long forgotten, but it was the perfect name. Raph, the snapping turtle, had insisted that he was their brother and this name was the second piece of evidence that pointed towards that possibility. The first one, of course, was him being a mutant turtle. 

He still wasn’t sure he could trust the two strangers- especially the other one… Heishi. He had been nothing but a menace since he arrived. It seemed he was trying to get them in trouble. Currently, the slider was desperately trying to convince his brother- Michelangelo- to further break their bed. 

“If we pull this part off here I bet I could use it to make a weapon! Now that would be a distraction!” He pushed Mikey, who looked to his brother for the answers. 

Donnie shook his head- that would almost certainly get them in way more trouble than it was worth. Plus, they just wanted to go outside, not to hurt anyone. Mikey frowned, but turned back to Heishi and shook his head.

“Nu-uh, mm sorry, but they would get really mad if we broke our bed.” Mikey answered, making Heishi groan.

“Hmmm, welllll… what if I promise to show you all my cool warrior moves?” Donnie knew exactly how this would turn out, and groaned as his brother let out an excited squeal.

“REALLY?” He gasped, and Heishi gave him a big grin.

It did not take much to break his little brother, who thought on the new deal for only a second before giving in and nodding.

“Okay! But only if you do it on my bro’s bed- er… Dee’s bed! He likes his bed cuz the cameras can’t see it!” He whispered the last part as he pointed to the bottom bunk where Donatello currently sat, staring at the both of them in disappointment.

“You're going to get us all in trouble, you know.” He offered, but Heishi was already yanking on the middle rung to their bunk, attempting to pull it from the bed.

“Yeah! An’ what if they put those handcuffs on you again?! Or worse?” Raph added, making Donnie nod- at least someone had some sense.

Of course, his brother and Heishi were not listening- both now on his bed, pulling against the rung until there was a resounding C R A C K and they both tumbled backwards- the wooden rung now in their hands. Ugh.

“AH-HA! Now this is a plan!” Heishi shouted triumphantly, holding up the splintered remains of their bunk as if it was something spectacular.

Donnie turned and flopped against his pillow- refusing to see the end of this. ‘Will they fix our bunk?’ He wasn’t sure. When the light broke a few weeks ago- they fixed that but… him and his brother have never broken anything on purpose before. ‘They took away our books… would they take away their papers next? Or their bunk? That is what they broke so what if-’ Donnie shook his head, burrowing it further into his pillow- 

‘no, Carol wouldn’t let them take their bunk. Plus, how would they fit it through the door? It wouldn’t fit!’

‘... wait… how did it get into the room? … was it always here?’ Donnie lost himself to his thoughts as he watched the large snapping turtle pace back and forth at the door and attempted to ignore the delighted chattering between his brother and Heishi.

“Master Draxum says I'm too ‘small and weak’ for big weapons… but he does let me use a wooden sword sometimes! I’m really good with it too!” His words were followed by whooshing sounds and Donnie's bed bobbing up and down with each thrust of Heishi’s “sword”- making Mikey gasp in excitement. Even Raph seemed to be a little impressed, stopping his pacing to watch, big eyes wide in a mixture of nervousness and awe. That only fueled the fire in Heishi. Ughhhh. Curiosity got the best of Donnie and he finally decided to turn his head to watch the ‘greatest warrior’ swing his ‘sword’ around.

He couldn’t stand on the bed without hitting his head, so instead he was moving around on his knees- despite that rather awkward position, he was keeping himself upright which was already a little impressive. He moved with surprising speed, twisting his arms and slashing the sword about as if fighting some imaginary enemy. Every time Donnie thought he would hit the wall or one of the bedposts he would pull away just in time and begin another set of random exercises. 

It was… a little … cool.

Then, as Donnie tried his best to cool his expressions and Heishi swung upwards for what looked like a finishing blow, that the sword exploded in blue light. Heishi screamed, throwing the sword and hitting his shell against the wall as they all stared wide eyed at the bright blue that danced over the sharp wooden stick.

-Meanwhile-

-To Be Continued- (??? If people are interested.)

I thought it would be fun that, for the crossover, they switched media! My comic being written, and my fic being in comic format! :DD

I was so nervous to post this and kinda went blind re-reading it over and over again soooo there are probably grammar/spelling errors I missed. Sorry about that- I might go through and edit them later?

[gaspshichat]

pearl quotes !!

i write down a lot of pearl quotes and sometimes share them in her discord server. i've decided to put every single one i've gathered into one tumblr post. i will reblog the most recent addition every saturday with any new quotes that i have acquired. you can also send me quotes in my ask box or my dms on twitter [username is gaspshichat, like usual]. no guarantees that they'll be added though!

a lot of these quotes are sus and very out of context. that is part of the point! if pearl wants me to delete this, i absolutely will

[before it gets asked, karn is her bestie boyfriend]

~|•🌙•|~

pearl: before we do that let me restock my balls

~

pearl: ooh there's things happening on the ser- A BEACON ????

~

pearl: don't thank me because i didn't approve of it

~

pearl: i hope you guys understood what i said because i didn't

~

pearl: "you killed a frog?" yup! it was for science......let it be known that is a terrible excuse in real life

~

pearl: "do you take iron tablets?" i have them!

~

pearl to keralis: well you're a letdown but i don't talk about that

~

pearl: fix ai, make them breedable

~

pearl: i got the double p! please don't acronym that

~

pearl: "do you use slabs in terraforming?" *zooms in on a slab she used for terraforming* no

~

pearl: "don't sell yourself short" it's okay i'm tall

~

pearl: they don't bite! much..

~

pearl: doc owes me child support!

*long, stunned silence*

cleo: ....okay….

~

cleo: so keralis did the kidnapping, and you did kidnapping by proxy

pearl: ...no

~

pearl: it was a heart of mutton. it was creepy

cleo: it was a meat heart :D

~

cleo: i want to mail horrible things, like animals, to iskall

pearl: oh! that's horrid

~

pearl: "you charge your other mats rent?" yes

~

pearl: i don't know if this is lag or if my balls are just popping in really slowly

~

pearl: these balls ain't going away

~

pearl: let me move my balls aside for you

~

pearl: hello ♪

karn: is it me you're looking for ♪

pearl: no ♪

karn: oh :(

~

pearl: i don't need a big, strong man to kill me

~

pearl: turn down the thing you need to turn down...you know what it is

~

karn: i fractured the world from what i can tell

pearl: ..bruh

~

pearl: what does the button do?

karn: THE BUTTON SHUTS THE DOORS ON US AND SPAWNS A BUNCH OF MOBS

pearl: i pushed the button hehe

~

pearl: cleo made the child

false: ...the child?

pearl: yeah :D it's a bebe

~

pearl: "why are there beach umbrellas at the post office?" *long pause* maybe it's because of all the water?

~

pearl: you caught me mid construction

gem: i know >:3

~

pearl: he's letting his babies loose

~

gem: look at you up there. you're adorable *punches her*

pearl: aH-

~

pearl: i am greatly navigationally challenged right now

~

pearl: i got too comfortable with hermitcraft actually working

~

pearl: ah! moist!

~

pearl: anyway that's completely distracted me away from my really passionate rockies

~

pearl: we have pickles to do !!

~

karn: let's not sit on the balls

pearl: 🤨

karn: *holds up cat toys*

pearl: oh- *starts laughing and hides her very red face*

~

pearl: just shove it in

~

pearl: how do you know what brimstone tastes like

karn: i've lived quite the life

~

pearl: give it a suck

~

pearl: our feet are not equal

karn: why are you bringing our feet into this ??

~

pearl: i could give you the australian bestie word-

karn, oblivious: alright

pearl: -but it's not pg

karn, realizing: ahhh

~

karn: it's a mental thing, you see

pearl: oh

karn: yes, i'm mentally stuck here

pearl: i see

karn: yes, i'm in a position where i don't want to leave-

pearl: that's very intense for a friend

~

karn: it's just as sweet as you

pearl: don't butter me up

karn: too late!

~

pearl: i'm flee with extra flee

~

karn: you okay, my dear?

pearl: *sobbing*

~

pearl: did you pee in the ocean?

karn, instantly: yes

~

pearl: stop wasting your bullets!

karn: sorry ☹️

~

pearl: did you think his ass was his face ????

~

pearl: in what realm is a butthole a face ????

karn: *trying to explain*

pearl: babe :I

~

pearl: take that you stupid ass robot

~

karn: on the count of three. one-

pearl: *starts blasting*

~

pearl: stupid ass spider

~

pearl: a butt is clearly defined by two cheeks, a hole, and a tail!

~

pearl: [karn] is very special. in multiple ways

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

WOW, a Mario Reacts! It's been a long time, hasn't it? Hell yeah, I can work with this!

(no bc seriously, I just finished watching ep. 7 of Arcane before this and I need an emotional break, yeah I know the rest of Act 3 is gonna kill me)

(the following is my live reaction:)

oh hey, Mario! Wassup?

jigsaw, is that you?

oh nvm, hello Swag! nice to see you again since last episode

I'm about to commit a crime [*strikes a pose then walks away*]

I'm willing to work in a government office just so I can come up with an acronym like, gee idk, Y.U.R.I. or something (I should've been a worker in NASA)

NO STOP STOP WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING?!

At this point, Mario, I would just give up

[*clears throat*] mejor me muero, ni modo que sigo con estos porquerías. bueno como dice Mario, bye bye [*drinks some water*] alright I'm back

TADC? ah, just a normal Saturday

no thoughts, head empty

honestly, mood

well, in his own way, yeah

[*echoes announcer voice*] VR, the new era of entertainment

...mr puzzles? nah jk jk

oh, Four's theory may not be wrong here (omg it's jesus)

still can't believe christianity is canon in the SMG4 universe

oh, so I was right! [*jigsaw voice*] "I wanna play a game."

That's actually kinda sweet that he immediately chooses his brother

OH SHIT OOOOH that's gotta hurt

NO MARIO, THAT SHOULD'VE BEEN ME

[*other me pops in*] emo girlfriend, omg it's smg3

no, we're NOT gonna look too much into this, shut up other me

PPFFFTTT that caught me so off guard

say it with me now: YOU CAN'T CONTROL MARIO [*applause*]

I mean, we've been through simulations before, we can take this one too

unironically, I wouldn't mind a 10-hour video of just Mario (and/or the rest of the Crew) just dancing :)

it doesn't even need to have music, I can just put my playlist on and I would totally join in

ooooh, you want to scan that QR code so badly

but also, how did they get a screenshot of my computer?

Mario 🤝 Mario Buddy from the last episode → destroying PCs for the LOLs

AKLDHLKSAFB;KL just the way Mario goes for a fighting stance just so he could run away will never not be funny to me

LET ME IN LET ME INNNNNNNNN

10 hours, welp I got my wish lmao

Mario morphing his face... hmmmm..... [*flashback noises*]

[SMG4: MAR10 Day]

....

don't think about it don't think about it don't think about it

KIRBO NOOOOOOOOO

NO NO NO SWAG NO

same vibes

meme factory? youtube arc? is that you? /j

(yeah I know that the Team uses the same assets ik)

LET'S DO THISSSS oh welp time to vibe

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

what would that be, Swag? Try not to Laugh challenge? I might win tbh

LET'S GO GAMBLING

laughing because of early victory call? very in character for Swag

oooh that's some good animation (y'know, as always)

HOLD UP WAIT A MINUTE

am i thinking too much into this or is this the same military base from last episode?

Alright, my little headcanon: the events of this episode and the last one took place on the exact same day

that's just for me specifically

oh hey, more TADC ref

Also, nice PINGAS STUCK IN A DOOR ref

man Mario can't catch a break dude

Congrats to CMorseu for your art being featured at the end credits 🎉

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Such a good episode! Not plot-heavy, just a silly episode. I'll gladly take it as my late birthday present. And it's great to have Swag back, kinda was half-expecting Chris to just pop out.

I've said this once and I'll say it again: I wouldn't mind if the rest of the year is just filled with goofy episodes. After all, we just came from WOTFI and we do need a bit of a break so the Team could work on the next arc. (From the looks of things, we might get goop!4 *cough cough*)

Loved the bits of animation and Mario's expressions as always.

Now, I know there is some talk about the SMG4 Crew/Mario Does Things being on hiatus and merging with the Saturday videos. If you can even call it that. Personally, I don't mind it. I completely understand if doing 2 episodes per week is a lot for the Team to handle, though I do wish they would give an explanation for it. I think the best solution would be for the Team making an announcement of the change, the reasons behind it, and how it may be different from the regular Saturday episodes. Also make it clear that "hey, the title says this so it doesn't impact the main storyline".

Anyway, it has been overall a pretty funny episode and I quite enjoyed it! Now, if you excuse me, I'm gonna cry my eyes out watching the rest of Arcane Act 3 and bring that angst to the next episode concept :)

OH THE MISERY EVERYBODY WANTS TO BE MY ENEMYYYYYYY

[thicctails]

><((((º>‿︵‿︵‿︵Undercurrent‿︵‿︵‿︵<º))))><

A Merformers x Reader Fanfiction

Chapter 2 ° Coastguard

Blessed be Randy the coffee machine, your holy god of caffeine. May His hazel liquid flow eternally into graceous Bartholomew, vessel of Randy's divine lifeblood; discount noname brand coffee that had expired last week.

Taking another sip of your beloved breakfast drink, you forced yourself to walk towards the greeting area of your clinic, praying to any deity that was listening that you looked at least passably presentable. You'd taken far longer to pull yourself away from the tender embrace of your nearly flat air mattress than you should have, and both your nerves and back were paying for it.

The head researcher of A.E.R.O. was meeting with you today to discuss your collaboration effort with them, and finally tell you exactly what species you'd be getting to work with. You hoped it would be something exciting, like sharks, dolphins, whales, or nudibranchs.

Taking a shaky breath, you shoved your anxiety down into the pit of your gut where it could, hopefully, only be noticed by you as your hand grasped the handle of the door. You pulled, ready to take the first proper step towards your new life.

Ka-thunk!

Ah. It was a push door.

Willing the colour that had suddenly flooded your cheeks to kindly fuck off, you meekly pushed the door open.

A man was standing in the main entrance room, leaning against Desk the desk and scrolling through something on his phone. He was dressed fairly casual for someone in his position, sporting tan cargo shorts, a forest green t-shirt, and a black lab coat, his company's acronym emblazoned in crisp vinyl across his breast pocket. He had tousled light brown hair and deep brown eyes that were framed by square glasses. At the sound of your approach, he lifted his gaze from his cellphone and gave you a warm smile, pocketing the device and turning his body towards you.

"Doctor L/N! It's nice to finally meet you!" he greeted, extending his hand to you. "My name is Dr. Burns, but please, just call me Graham."

Though it had been difficult to tell sometimes, you had not actually been raised by a pack of rabid wolves, so you returned the gesture, gripping the man's hand and giving it a shake.

"It's a pleasure to acquatence your make."

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Hey, God? Could you do a little smiting? Yeah, right here please.

"I- I'm so sorry, I swear I didn't mean to say that." You managed to get out, almost shocked that you hadn't fucked that sentence up as well.

Breaking News! Local PhD holder flubbs basic greeting! Becomes World Champion speedrunner for ruining first impressions and instantly loses any chance of being considered for further employment and any shred of respect this man had for them!

"It's fine. Honestly, I was just as nervous as you when I first started." Graham laughed, startling you out of your own mental spiral, "I was so preoccupied with my own worries that I tripped and fell face first into a pool on my first day."

You stared at Graham for a moment, stunned that he was still talking to by choice and not out of obligation, before a small, strangled chuckle left your throat, sounding more like the dying squak of a strangled seabird than a laugh.

"Come on, the rest of the team is waiting for us in town." the brunette said, gesturing for you to follow him.

You arched a brow but obediently followed after him, trailing after the researcher like a duckling waddling after a pair of boots.

"Oh? I was under the impression this meeting was to discuss my contract." you replied, trying to scrape together a professional-ish sentence while simultaneously praying that you weren't coming off as rude.

"It is, but once everyone got wind that we would be working with someone new, they got a little," he paused, hand waving about as he searched for the right word, "excited. It's been a while since anyone besides Marissa worked close enough for us to talk to them on a semi-regular basis."

"Can't wait to meet them!" you said cheerfully, lying through your teeth.

The idea of having to interact with another human being today had been draining enough, but to have to converse with several? When their opinions of you could impact your career?

Your hands twitched around Bartholomew's smooth, ceramic body, wishing you'd added a few ounces of pure caffeine to your coffee. Maybe you'd get lucky and get struck by a bus.

Unfortunately, God wasn't known for being kind to you, so you arrived at a small diner completely unharmed.

The worn bell above the door dinged as you and Graham stepped inside, the smell of greasy fries and cheap burgers wafting all around you as he led you over to one of the booths, the cracked red leather seats occupied by three other people in various states of dress.

There was a younger woman with russet skin and shockingly red hair that was pulled back in a loose ponytail, a few hairclips keeping her bangs out of her bright blue eyes. She was dressed in a cream and light orange dress, matching knee-high boots complementing her outfit. She was scrolling on her phone, but put the device down when she noticed your approach.

Ah, the mortifying feeling of being known. It never failed to make you uncomfortable.

The other two, who were seemingly in the middle of seeing who could chug a milkshake faster, were men, light skinned and with almost identically brown hair. It was easy to pick them apart, though, seeing as one was built like a brick shithouse and looked as though he was cosplaying some strange cross between a soldier and a Ghostbuster, and the other was a twink that also happened to be absolutely rocking some sun-bleached overalls and a set of the most obnoxiously yellow rubber boots you'd ever seen in your entire life.

"Hey, dingbats!" the woman hissed, nudging her closest colleague, who happened to be the rubber boots guy, "The new vet is here!"

While the two guys attempted to swallow their drinks without getting a brain freeze, Graham gave you a somewhat sheepish smile. "Dr. L/N, I'd like to introduce you to Doctor Sari Sumdac, Doctor Spike Witwicky, and Doctor Blaine L. Parker."

"Mainframe." Blaine said, slamming his cup down with a satisfied sigh, "Call me Mainframe. Only my Mama calls me Blaine."

"I'm still good with Spike." the other man chimed in, extending his hand to you as you and Graham slid into the opposite booth seat. You shook it, quickly repeating the action with Sari and Mainframe.

"So, you're the new guy, eh?" Mainframe asked, "We've been waitn' for Marissa to finally pick someone. She's too picky, if you ask me."

"Not picky enough if she hired you." Sari shot back, and for a moment you stiffened, afraid you were about to have front row seats for a fight, but Mainframe's laughter and Sari's teasing expression quickly calmed your nerves. She looked back at you, her face taking on a more genuine look, "He's not wrong about us waiting, though. A.E.R.O. has been around for a few years now, but you're the first vet we've gotten assigned to work with us."

Your eyebrows shot up, mouth opening slightly in surprise before you remembered to shut it, "Really? Why?"

The gathered marine biologists looked at each other for a moment, before Spike leaned in closer to you. You matched his action, wondering what exactly he had to say.

"Did Marissa fill you in on what exactly A.E.R.O. means?" he asked in a low whisper.

You thought for a moment, then shook your head. Actually, your employer had told you very little, just enough to get you to sign a contract with her. You didn't regret your decision; anything would be better than the place you'd come from, but this secrecy did make you wonder what exactly you'd gotten yourself into.

"A.E.R.O.," Spike continued, "stands for Aquatic Extraterrestrial Research Outpost."

You blinked, leaning back as you turned over what Spike had just told you. Had you heard him correctly? No, surely not. Clearly you hadn't had enough coffee yet.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, chuckling a little "I must still be a bit groggy, because I thought you said extraterrestrial for a moment there."

The four shared another look, then once again focused their attention back on you.

"You heard correctly, Dr. L/N." Graham said, producing an envelope from the interior of his jacket. He quickly glanced around the diner, before sliding the envelope over to you. He continued speaking as you picked it up, hands shaking slightly.

"Five years ago, several objects from deep space suddenly entered our atmosphere and crashed into the Atlantic Ocean. It was presumed that they were abnormal meteors of some kind, but a government owned dive team discovered that they were actually pods of some kind, made of materials not found on Earth.

"They were empty by the time they were found, but not long after they were discovered and retrieved, strange signals began to be picked up by sonar sensors, and sailors around this area began to report seeing bizzare creatures swimming beneath their boats, some of them claiming that their vessels were attacked, which was corroborated by several documented cases of boats coming in with scratch marks on their hulls."

You opened the envelope and reached inside, withdrawing several polaroid photographs. Each one was of a different boat, ranging from dinky little sailboats to bulky fishing trawlers. However, they all shared one unique feature; a set of deep gouges that tore through wood and metal, left behind by something that had to be absolutely huge.

Well shit, slap a tinfoil hat on your head and call you a believer, because there wasn't much in the ocean that had claws to begin with, and certainly nothing with claws large enough to do that kind of damage.

As you began to tuck the photos back into the envelope, you noticed that one of them was drastically different. It was blurry, taken on the coast during what looked like a storm, but not even those hindrances could mask the appearance of the... thing that had been captured on camera.

It was big. Like, really big.

The closest thing you could compare it to would be some kind of whale, but it looked so wholly unlike any species you knew of that you immediately tossed that idea out the window. It had a long, silvery body, covered in large, armour-like scales that almost gave the appearance of it being segmented. Thick, spiny fins jutted out along most of its tail, purple webbing torn and ragged. It's upper half was obscured, as the creature was diving back down beneath the surface, but the very beginnings of its torso hadn't quite been submerged when the photo was taken, and you could see a long row of crimson gills that glowed in the moonless dark.

"What the fuck." you breathed out, shoving the photos back into the envelope before tossing it away from you like you were playing the world's strangest game of Hot Potato.

"Yeah, that was pretty much our reaction too." Sari said, picking up the envelope. "We've been calling that one 'The Meg', since you could almost mistake it for an overgrown shark, if you only caught a glimpse of it.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned softly as you considered everything you'd just been told.

"Let me get this straight," you started slowly, dragging your hand down your face before resting it on your chin, "You and Marissa want me to find a way to study and treat a highly aggressive, barely studied, extremely dangerous alien, let me repeat that for you, alien species with no prior experience and, since you four work at a separate facility, no team?"

A pregnant silence met your question for a moment, before being broken by a very timid, very nervous "Yes?" from Graham, who was rubbing the back of his head.

You looked at him, looked at the rest of his team, looked at the exit of the diner, and considered your options; accept this batshit insane, borderline suicidal offer and risk getting torn limb from limb by sea monsters from beyond the stars, or move back in with your parents.

"Well Christ on a bike, sign me up." you replied, before snagging the nearby coffee pot and, after checking that it wouldn't give you third degree burns, chugged the whole damn thing, determined to get enough caffeine in your body to drown out that little voice in your head that alway nagged that you should have been a lawyer.

[not-thenauts]

✨✨✨*-magically Appears-* ✨✨✨

I have a question! If you do asks still!- :3

Question for Tweak n Dashi:

Do yall argue when you design a new gup or device?

Cause yall seem the type of crew members who fight over a little disagreement in designing-

*•.

Dashi : “We don’t believe in design per se, more like practicality. I’m honestly impressed by the many G.U.P.’s done by you, Tweak.”

Tweak : “Thanks and they work! Ah ain’t gonna stop defendin’ my babies til’ the day I drop!”

Dashi : “I wonder where you get these… ideas from, they’re so out of this world—- and impossible!”

Tweak : “Ah come from two revolutionary worlds. Two very different worlds that didn’t accept me… ya know what—- you’re my kind of world, Dash!”

Dashi : “Aw, thanks. You too, Tweak. I honestly thought you were going to monologue there and tell me your secrets.”

Tweak : “Never. That’s cheesy. Friends for real life?”

Dashi : “You’re so emotional, Tweak. But yes, friends for real life.”

*•.

The acronym for G.U.P. is Grand Utility Pod.

And thank you @harper-sea

[reallyromealone]

Title: merry-go-round of life

Pairing: Ryou x male reader

Fandom: Yu-gi-yoh!

Warnings: male reader - reincarnation - fluff

Notes: (A.R.N) is an acronym for alternative reader name and (A.B.N) is alternative bakura name.

This is written for a friend

Thank you for being my friend kaida.

☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️

They say that soulmates no matter what, will always find one another, time and time again.

Round and round through the dancefloor of time they will see each other and carry on in their waltz of life, with each reincarnation the love grows stronger and more vibrant with each step and breath.

And this time, it started with a bus stop on a rainy spring day where two young men sought shelter from the elements and unknowingly started the clock once more.

Rain pelted the old wooden bus stop as (name) rushed under, clothes soaked as he looked at the heavy rainfall worried "it's gonna last a while, get comfortable" a voice spoke gently as (name) turned to see a white haired teen sitting on the bench, hair drenched and sticking to his face and neck "I saw the weather yet I still forgot my umbrella, could you believe that" he chuckled as (name) sat on the bus seat "I completely forgot to check the weather today, woken up late for class" (name) said to the stranger "ah, another victim to the cursed alarm clock" he said with a slight tease "though rain is needed, the heavens are cleansing the earth after all" his voice tender and gentle with each word, (name) felt pulled in by its calmness as he listened to him.

"So where are you coming from, stranger?" (Name) asked the white haired teen with a soft smile "oh, I came back from a few duels... You know how it is" (name) looked at him in awe as he got closer "that's so cool! You know how to duel?!"

"Y-yeah, do you?"

"Nah, it always looked intimidating ya know? Though I always thought it was cool-- oh I'm (name) by the way! (name) (last name)!" He introduced with a grin and offered his hand to the other who took it gently "Ryou Bakura, it's a pleasure to meet you (name)... I may not be the most amazing player but I do fancy myself pretty decent... Maybe I can show you" he offered as he fiddled with his hands and the smile (name) had on his face was one he wanted to photograph and look at forever.

He wanted that smile on his face every day.

They spoke endlessly, each word they grew more and more fond of one another as the two scooted closer and found they had much in common.

They felt like they had spoken to one another all their lives.

"Oh, the rain stopped"

"It did..." (Name) seemed disappointed that it stopped and he was, he didn't want to stop talking to Ryou... "Could we-- could we hang out sometime?" (Name) asked hopefully and Ryou looked startled but happy as he nodded, giving the other his email on a scrap paper and the two parted ways, both giddy as they rushed to email one another.

Messages were traded, the two sitting on their computers throughout the night messaging and joking around.

They couldn't hang out again till a week and a half later, (name) giddy as he put on an outfit, subconsciously he wanted to look good for the white haired teen, impress him even as their first meeting he looked like a wet rat.

(Name) had his allowance saved along with his part time job money for this hangout, he was not gonna let his new friend pay for a thing! Heck yeah! It was gonna be awesome!

(Name) hyped himself in the mirror before leaving, a stupid smile on his face, not knowing he had done this countless times before.

It was a fall afternoon, (A.R.N) ran down the old cobble road to the forest outside of the old farming village with a stupid smile, a basket of treats in his hand.

"(A.B.N)!" (Name) called with a smile as the young man looked from his book to see the other, a soft smile on his face as he stood up and watched as (name) ran to him, only to tumble over an old branch "are you alright?!"

"I-i was just falling for you, I suppose"(A.R.N) huffed a laugh to the shoe makers son who snorted a laugh "come, let's get you sitting" he whispered to his lover who let him lead him to their secret spot, a spot just for them.

(A.R.N) rested his head as his beloved continued reading out loud to him, this was often how they spent their time, just enjoying their time together.

"I hope you weren't waiting long" (name) said as he got to the cafe they agreed on, (name)s breath taken from him as he looked at the other who had the sweetest expression of slight confusion as (name) stared stunned "are you alright?" He asked worriedly, hand on (name)s forehead and (name) snapped from his thoughts as he took Ryou's hand gently "all's good, just... You look good"

The summer heat was heavy as (ABN) looked flustered as she stared at her wedding dress "thank you, you also look quite lovely" the two dressed in the best clothing they had as they stood at the altar, a tailor's son and a noble man's daughter marrying in a Paris Church... How odd it was to an outsider.

But to them, it was everything "I (ARN), vow to love and cherish you through sickness and health... I will sew you the finest dresses and promise to love you till my dying days" he whispered so sweetly to his love, the other smiling as they kissed gently and sealing their marriage, the church door slamming open.

And a gun was fired.

"Don't worry, I got it" (name) smiled as he paid for their things, Ryou shyly sipped his drink as they sat at a booth "so how are you? How's everything?!" (Name) asked as they got comfortable, Ryou noting how he was like an excited dog as he hung onto every word the white haired man spoke, not realizing at this exact moment he fell in love with Ryou once again.

You wouldn't realize how many drinks you would go through as you spoke to someone you loved, Ryou rambling about dueling.

"Sorry-- you're probably tired about hearing about dueling"

"I have never wanted to hear anything more than you talk so passionately"

The young poet looked flustered as (ARN) stood behind the library desk, watching the others adjust their glasses as the librarian looked so lovingly "you're... You're really talented at that... I think I could hear you talk about it forever" (ABN) looked at the wooden floors of the carpet, the two dressed in sixties clothing as (ABN) finished a poetry class "thanks, I hope to be the next Emily Dickinson..."

"I believe in you"

Ryou felt flustered at (name)s encouragement as the sun set before them "I-I know this might be dumb but... Would you wanna go on a date? If not that's totally fine, I get it--"

(Name) kissed him lovingly, like every forest date and wedding and jazz club and forgotten corner of the library, he kissing him so so lovingly "I would be a dumbass to not accept that"

And just like that, the merry-go-round of life continued, their song still playing and their dance never ending.

Just like every time before.

[fluorescentbalaclava]

training season's over (double chapter)

Chapter 7: Gleaming & Chapter 8: FISH n' CHIPS

Summary:

Gleaming

To describe something as good, desirable or brilliant. A particular favourite of the Guards Division. If something is ‘gleaming’ you’re probably onto a good thing.

FISH n' CHIPS acronyms, Fighting In Someone's House and Causing Havoc In People's Streets.

TF141/female reader, König/female reader

spy reader, forced bonding, slow burn, slow build, military inaccuracies, suggestive language, language, canon typical violence, second chance, domestic fluff, enemies to friends, becoming buddies, referenced torture, hurt/comfort, hugs, bar fights, alcohol, cuddles

previous: chapter six "contact"

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

Chapter 7

How to tell a guy has a crush on you?

You immediately groan to yourself for googling this at your grown age. There was a time when you dated, you even had a boyfriend before all of this. Still, it feels like a lifetime ago, those thoughts were pushed to the back of your head for a while, but after your encounter with König you need answers. 

God, at what point I got so disconnected with emotions?

Ah, the good old WikiHow.

 1 - He talks to you—a lot.

Uhm...maybe?

2 - He makes eye contact.

Definitely, it’s kinda unsettling sometimes.

3 - He gives you his full attention.

Uh... I mean, yes. But isn't this like the bare minimum?

4 - He laughs at your jokes.

This is ridiculous.

5 - He tries to impress you.

Eh, perhaps.

7 - He lowers his voice when he speaks to you.

The fuck?

You cringe at yourself, before closing your computer and placing it next to you. I mean, maybe it’s not romantically? He clearly cares about you, after all, you don't just go through that for anyone, at least you wouldn't. Or would you? Fuck, this is hard.

König was---is your friend. You began to remember the first time you met him; you fresh joined KorTac, lined up in a row with other new recruits. Upcoming missions required weeks long deployments, and you were informed that some of you were needed for them as there was a shortage of staff in the base, due to the many operations KorTac was contracted to carry out, and that the commanding officers would pick a few rookies to fill the spots.

The first two officers went past you, not even giving you a second glance, just picking the biggest people in the row and calling it a day. The third of them, an American, just looked down at you and with a sarcastic tone said.

"I think you're in the wrong place, doll."

Cunt.

The sight of the fourth one immediately made everyone on the row stand straight. You heard someone beside you whisper "colonel". He was intimidating, tall as fuck, with a black sniper hood over his face and clear paint smeared on the fabric under the holes of his eyes, looking straight out of a Friday the 13th film.

He walked in silence, taking the time to examine each one of the remaining recruits in line. Opposite to the other officers, or at least the ones he talked to, he liked rookies. They were fresh meat, easy to mould to his liking. You saw him looking at you, slightly tilting his head like a curious dog, and you made yourself hold his gaze.

That might have caught his attention, because next thing you knew, he was in front of you. Looking down, probably standing too close on purpose only to make you look up even more, putting your neck in an uncomfortable position. God, it was humiliating.

"Name?" He asked, surprising you as his voice was not as deep as you expected.

"Sage, sir"

"SAS?" He asked, pointing at the Union Jack on your chest.

"No, sir. I was hired before I could try for selection. Corporal, British Army." You explained, and you saw him narrowing his eyes while looking at your face.

"You're coming with me, Maus." He said before simply turning around and walking away. Leaving you a little dumbfounded, as well as your fellow comrades, but soon you followed after.

And that was it, just like that you were under his command until you had the requirements to try and become a sergeant. You never asked him why he exactly did it, you didn’t want him to feel like you were questioning him. He was your superior, after all. Google just told you that "Maus" was a common term of endearment in German.

Those thoughts brought back to that day in Uzlovoye, Russia. Everything felt calm enough— just a rural town, you thought. You really don't remember much; you remember getting into what seemed like an abandoned building and having to collect a computer with vital information inside a bunker. You remember hands behind you, König's voice asking for updates through the comm, the growing anxiety in his voice at the lack of response, the hands squeezing your neck, and then everything went black. The next thing you remember was lifting your head, trying to move to no avail, something hard behind you, the feeling of restraints all around your body, and the disgusting smell of rust and humidity.

A knock on your door distracts you.

“Who is it?”

“Me,” Soap voice says from outside the door.

“Come in.”

He opened the door, finding you resting on your bed already in your pyjamas. One with bunnies this time. Looking around, he quickly realises you have already made yourself quite at home. The room is fully decorated now, except for some boxes piling up in the corner. He could even bet you would have painted the walls as well, if given the chance. You can tell he’s also ready for bed with a shirt from some band you don’t even know and tartan pyjama bottoms.

“Came for a tour?” You said it with a teasing tone from bed, looking up at him.

“Oh, sorry” He answered clearing his throat.

“I'm here to formally invite ye to our monthly film night” Soap said with a playful, elegant tone.

"Monthly? How come I'm first learning about this? I've been here for four months already" Seeing Soap standing on the doorway with a cocky grin.

"Sure, ye can get mad at us for not inviting ye...or ye can be over the moon we are doing it now" He said teasingly.

"Fine...just give me a minute."

And now you were there, in the usual sitting position, with Gaz in the middle, you on one side and Soap on the other. Ghost and Price are sitting on individual sofa at each end of the couch. All of them looked more casual, in their pyjamas as well. Maybe next time you could convince them to do a face mask and turn this into a proper sleepover, like the ones you held with your girlfriends back in high school. You brought a blanket with you to snuggle as well as a cardigan, the base felt like a freezer in the winter.

They did a rock, paper, scissors competition to see who picked the film. Something in you got suspicious when everyone groaned when Price won, even Ghost, but you gave his taste in movies the benefit of the doubt.

Fucking hell...

He picked Gangs of New York, and about half an hour later, the only thing keeping you awake was the feeling of your head bobbling every time you were close to falling asleep.

The only thing keeping Kyle entertained was seeing how hard you were trying to stay awake. From what Johnny told him, you apparently had trouble sleeping, often waking at night to sneak to the kitchen. So, to try and help you, at some point he shifted his shoulder a bit, so when you fell asleep, your head fell against it.

He felt how your breath slowly became even and calm, and you soon were sleeping like a baby. At least she can spare herself from this. As much as he tried to keep focused on the screen, trying to at least follow the storyline, you kept leaning more of your weight against him, seeking his warmth, to which he felt his cheeks warming up.

He took a look around, Ghost was watching the screen, Soap was asleep as well, and Price was watching the picture attentively.

His hand was awkwardly behind you, not sure what to do with it, as your body was pressed on his side. After a few minutes of consideration, he decided that to be comfortable, or so he told himself, to delicately put his arm around your waist, careful to be respectful and gentle. You shifted slightly, and he almost pulled away, but you just snuggled more against him, making him confident enough to cuddle you some more.

He leaned back on the couch, relaxing. It was surprisingly pleasant to rest like that. He could feel the warmth of your body underneath your clothes and how your body gently moved with each breath.

The light of the television illuminated your sleeping face, your muscles relaxed and a peaceful expression, quite the opposite of what he normally sees in you. You looked like a powerhouse when you trained, running through the o course like it was nothing, doing series after series at the gym, and relentlessly hitting whatever thing you had in front of you to train: the bag, mannequins, or Soap. 

In your sleeping thoughts, the heat coming from an unknown source was soothing, the aroma of cologne appearing in your dreams and the softness of the cotton of his shirt against your cheek.

He tried to remember the last time he ever was with someone like this. Probably before he joined the 141. Since he met Price, his life has been dedicated to the task force, his country, and saving the world. He almost forgot how nice this was.

The thoughts started to drift even more.

He imagined coming back to someone after work, lying like that while relaxing after a hard day of work, ordering takeout, watching the telly, and then heading to the bedroom. He didn’t realise until now that he craved that, the intimacy of a partner and the closeness of someone outside his friends. So focused on his job he almost forgot the feeling of a warm body pressed against him, the softness of the fabric of your shirt under his hand, your steady breath...he felt slightly flustered at the thoughts crossing his head, but he allowed himself to enjoy in silence. Just two co-workers resting on an evening—it wasn't a big deal. You looked adorable, he had to admit. And he enjoyed the moments he spent with you off-duty; going for the groceries, watching reality TV, or going for runs in the morning. All the stuff he dreaded or felt like chores of civilian life was now enjoyable. They almost made him forget he was a soldier, that he was in a base, and that you are there because you are a criminal. Of course, he would never tell you any of that.

"Kyle" You whispered groggily, snapping him out of his thoughts, and he looked down at you. You couldn’t even open your eyes, the sight bringing a soft smile to his face.

"How long until it ends?" You added it, making him chuckle silently.

"It's almost three hours long, and we're only one hour in, luv" He whispered back, amused.

"For fuck's sake" You muttered in an annoyed groggy tone, curling up on yourself even more while pulling the blanket up, wrapping yourself as you were still leaning against him, going back to sleep.

He could get used to this.

Chapter 8

With a unanimous vote, or so they told you, they decided to take you to the Battleship, a small bar close to the base opened by a retired SAS member mostly for other soldiers to hang out in.

You decided on putting on a long-sleeve shirt with some open buttons on the front that let it hang open enough for your tank top to peek out. As well as just some normal jeans, your tactic boots, and a jacket. You also decided to leave your hair down with clips to prevent it from falling all over your face. And just the tiniest bit of makeup—you were actually excited to see yourself a bit more dolled up than usual. Still casual enough, you think.

When Price sees you, a realization quickly strikes him. Yes, you were a merc, a spy, and you murder people—all crimes he was already too familiar with, and by the looks of it, so were you. But you were only a girl. When you arrived with a soft smile to meet them in the car park, it was like you didn't belong there with them. In other circumstances, you probably would have finished college by now; you would be getting ready to go out with your girlfriends for a drink after a normal day of work and chatter about your lives; you'd have a flat (a new one); and probably a partner. But instead, whatever life choices you made brought you here, going out on a Saturday night with four war criminals, older than you, to a shitty bar on the side of the road. He almost feels pity for you.

Pity he's quickly snapped out of when, apparently, once you got in the Jeep and you were getting comfortable, Soap got in behind you, accidentally pulling your hair with his arm against the seat, to which you winced and almost instinctively threw a very hard push against his shoulder, making him loudly groan but back out.

"Get off my hair," you said, glaring at him, picking up your hair and putting it over one of your shoulders, brushing it together again.

"I'm trying, but it's fuckin' everywhere. Can't ye put on a ponytail or something? Jesus Christ, no need to dislocate my shoulder." He said it with a small wince of pain, rubbing his shoulder.

"Muppets, behave," Price said with a sigh before getting into the driver seat.

It's probably going to be a long night.

He had yet to ask you for what fucked-up reason you ended up enlisting in the first place. But he saw you were uncomfortable enough when he tried to make you call your parents more frequently, and he didn't want to push any further.

He saw on the rearview mirror that Soap and you had made peace, and he was now telling you about how terrible the new recruits were and how they couldn't even handle a few runs around the base, and he was surprised when he heard a “I give them two more weeks” from Ghost, who was sitting next to you.

You seem well enough, considering your situation. He was glad when Kyle came to him, asking for permission to take you along with Soap to the town on a small shopping spree by the sounds of it.

Soap very much enjoyed the little getaway, even if it was for mundane things such as going to the supermarket, the bakery, and a small shop to get your mug. They made you wait in another aisle while Gaz and him debated between getting you the “I’m not short, I’m just more down to earth than most people!” one or the "Don't be a cuntcake" one that had a little drawing of a cupcake. Ultimately, their decision was the right one when you opened the box and cringed at the mug about your height. He really enjoyed getting to taste the macarons you bought. They were a bit overpriced for his liking, but they were tasty, so it was worth it.

"So... thoughts?" Gaz said, walking beside you as you entered the bar.

"It's...not bad," you say slowly, looking around.

It's clearly not your style or your idea of a bar. The decorations look like they were clearly chosen by a retired soldier (in a bad way), and it reeks of cigarettes; you could be smoking two cigars yourself by the amount of smoke you're breathing. Needless to say, it is quite busy, and Ghost and Price walk in front of you, with Soap behind as they go to the bar. Gaz just chuckled, probably sensing that this wasn't really your cup of tea.

"After a drink, it'll grow in you," he says as you start walking to the counter as well.

"Price! It's been a while, mate, what you've been up to?" The man at the counter asked cheerfully, already grabbing a bottle of whisky.

"Very busy months, Arthur. We are catching a break while we can," the captain answered while leaning on the counter.

"He is the owner," Gaz whispered to you.

You glanced at the man, looking him up and down. Checkered shirt, long beard, curly hair, missing a leg. Probably the reason why he retired in the first place.

"Oh, and who's this? Your daughter?" He said it with the same cheerful attitude, noticing you were looking at him and extending his hand to you. You chuckled as you shook his hand, and Gaz and Soap snickered at the comment as well.

"How old do you think I am? No, she's a new recruit," Price said in a mock-offended tone.

"Sa---...eh, Wire" Old habits die hard.

"Sorry, John. And it’s a pleasure to meet you, sweetheart.” He said it with a friendly tone, letting you go and putting a small bowl of peanuts in front of you.

“What can I do for you today?"

"Water, I have to drive."

"Whisky"

"Bourbon"

"Guinness, please"

"Do you have absinthe?"

"I actually do! It's been a while since someone ordered, but we serve it the classic way. Give me a moment." The man behind the counter, seemingly excited by the request, left to search for the necessary tools on the back.

When you looked next to you, your teammates were looking at you as if you had a second head.

"What?" Your tone was already defensive.

"Are you an alcoholic, bonnie?" Soap answered with his own question.

"I like the taste! It’s like liquorice."

"That doesn't help your case, luv," Gaz said teasingly, winning a playful scoff from you.

"Fuck off, it's just to warm up."

After Arthur came back, he made a small show of serving your absinthe, ice-cold water, absinthe spoon, and sugar cube, and you were surprised to even see a Pontarlier reservoir glass. After that, he went to serve the rest of the drinks less excitedly.

Once the first round was finished and Soap gagged after asking to try your drink, the five of you left the counter in favour of an empty table next to the pool, dividing into two teams: Soap and Ghost against Gaz and you. Price opted to be a spectator while smoking a cigar. After Ghost broke the aligned balls, their team had the solid ones, while you were left with stripes.

Alcohol must have really warmed you up because you were laughing more than usual at playful banter and at Soap's stupid dick jokes directed at Ghost regarding balls and pool cues.

Simon grumbled, but deep down, he didn't mind. For a change, it was nice to hear your laugh and to see your cheeks flush as you got hot from laughing and the heat of the place. He could see the men from the other tables ogling you, and although he knew you were perfectly capable of handling them yourself, he couldn't help but shoot glares in their direction when you weren't looking, making them immediately turn around at the sight of a man like Ghost catching them red-handed. A strange feeling of protectiveness was brewing in his chest—something about someone like you in a place like this and surrounded by rough men. It was foolish to think; he was well aware, and he felt almost embarrassed to even entretain the idea. Three months ago, he hated you and everything about you, and he let Price know multiple times that it was a terrible idea to have a criminal on the team.

But now...he had to look away when you bent over the table on your turn; suddenly, the inside of his mask was too warm.

"I need a drink," you announced, bubbly, stretching your back before handing Gaz your pool cue.

"No more absinthe, bonnie, won't hold yer hair while you throw up." Soap said, teasing, making you chuckle.

"I'm getting a coke; don't worry, mom."

"And I'm going to the bathroom," Price announced from the nearby table.

"Does anyone want anything?" You asked as you began to walk away.

"No thanks, luv," Gaz said, as Soap and Ghost only shook their heads as they were studying the table, seeing the best way to proceed as they were losing.

You walked away to the counter, which was across the bar, allowing the three men to keep sight of you.

Soap lowered his upper body over the table, hitting a red ball but missing the pocket, making him curse under his breath. Gaz chuckled at this, and they had a small break while you got back since it was your turn. He saw you waiting for Arthur to be done with another customer when a man he didn't recognize but saw on a nearby table approached you, shamelessly putting his hand around your waist as he stood beside you. The men on his table were watching the scene with a smirk on their faces.

This made him annoyed, and apparently, he wasn't the only one.

"Fucking dogs." Soap said, standing next to Ghost.

"Should we go for her?" Gaz asked, trying his best not to sound too eager. He saw you turn around with a scowl, clearly not happy.

"Lass can take care of herself," Ghost bluntly answered. Although his eyes were betraying him, he was still glued to the scene.

When he turned to look back at you, you were saying something to the man while glaring at him. The men chuckled and said something back, and you rolled your eyes. Your face went back to face the front. Maybe you didn't mind?

Then he saw how the man's hand slithered down your back, and he felt his blood boiling. But before his hand could reach its destination, a quick blow from your elbow harshly met its own destination, connecting with the man's nose. Not only making him pull his hand away but making him fall back with a whine of pain, and now everyone’s eyes were on the scene.

"You fucking whore!" The man said loudly before he got up, clearly aggressive. But you weren't backing up, either.

"Fuck," Gaz said before he quickly hurried up to the scene, followed by Soap.

As they arrived, Gaz got in between the man and you, and Soap quickly held you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist. The man's friends are also holding him back, muttering stuff along the lines of “it’s not worth it” or “it’s just a chick.”

"Put your fucking bitch on a leash," he said angrily, blood pouring from his nose. Ah, a yank.

"Haud yer wheesht," Soap barked at him from behind you, still holding you as you tried to break free from his arms.

"I’ll chop your hands off." Not even you knew you had so much pent-up anger inside you, probably looking for the right situation to explode. Johnny was struggling more than he would like behind you, feeling like he was trying to hold back a bull. Bloody hell, maybe I should do more weightlifting.

"The fuck is your problem, mate?" Gaz through gritted teeth, but before the man could scream back, you were approached by Ghost. The man's eyes widened, and he stayed quiet, all the blood draining from his face.

"L-Lieutenant." He said this while standing straight, trying to sloppily clean the blood off his face with his hand.

"You are?" Ghost asked.

"Shadow Company, sir." You heard Soap muttering 'of course' under his breath, still holding you back.

"T-This girl broke my nose!" He said, pointing at you, making your efforts to break free from Soap's grip increased.

"Yer awfy crabbit, mo leannan," Soap whispered to you, not letting you go, trying to get you to calm down.

"Only because you tried to touch her ass like a fucking mutt in heat," Ghost answered bitterly, looking down at the man who looked as if he wanted the earth to swallow him.

"What’s the problem here?" Price approached the situation, fresh from the bathroom. At the sight of the captain, the man looked like he wanted to throw up.

"Graves men were getting handsy with the lass," Gaz explained, and he heard you groan in annoyance behind him.

"I can take care of him myself." You said through gritted teeth.

The same alcohol that made you giggle like a teenager is now making you thirsty for blood, as well as annoyed that they felt the need to handle the situation themselves, like you weren't an adult and a trained killing machine, just like them. All the frustration, sadness, and anger that you obediently swallowed in the first months of your new life, not wanting to worsen your already poor situation, is now coming back to bite you in the ass. You wanted to unleash every little one of your frustrations on the man in front of you.

"Mo chridhe, calm down," Soap said again. Gentle but struggling, you were using all your force to get out of his embrace.

"LT, help." He said in a strained voice as he kept trying to lock you in his arms, to which Simon rolled his eyes, but he eventually approached you. With ease, he wrapped his arm around your waist and threw you over his shoulder.

"Fucking hell, Simon," you said, now with a view of the 'Lieutenant Riley' written on his back.

"Some fresh air will do you good, flower." He said as he walked out of the bar carrying you.

This was a rather embarrassing situation, everyone was watching curiously. It was not the first time you were carried out of the bar, and certainly not your first fight. Probably not the last, either. You deep down knew that the gossip of the new girl getting into a fight and being carried away by her lieutenant was going to spread like wildfire on the base.

But, your head felt slightly woozy making you accept your fate as fresh air was starting to sound very nice.

"Sorry, Arthur," Price said with an apologetic look, looking at the bartender.

"Don't worry, John; good to see the new recruits still have some fire on them." He was hinting at the direction in which you disappeared.

"And you," Price said, turning around to the other men again. The main culprit is now holding a napkin against his nose, sitting down like a wet dog. John had a severe look on his face, making the men look more miserable. "Name. Now."

You sat in the Jeep with the door open. Ghost was standing in front of you, his mask lifted as he smoked a cigarette. You notice the blonde stubble; the concept of someone as big and intimidating as him being a blonde named Simon was quite funny, but right now you tried to focus on deep breaths, trying to calm your own anger down.

After a few minutes, you saw the Shadow Company men being pushed out of the bar by Gaz and Soap, followed by Price, who seemed to be on the phone. Your anger, far from diffusing, spikes again. You began to stand up again.

"Let them handle it." He says it in a calm tone, putting his free hand on your shoulder and making you sit again.

"I can handle it myself. My ass is the one involved, not yours," you answer, glaring up at him.

"I know you can, and as much as I would enjoy seeing you beat the shit out of them, you don't have to." He says, voice husky but surprisingly gently, looking down at you. You arched your brow at his words, and he decided to elaborate some more.

"Price is most likely calling Graves; they'll probably get a written reprimand, extra shit to do, and they will be banned from our sector on the base."

"I don't need Price to rat them out for me; I can take care of it."

"My point is that you don't have to. Listen: Despite everything, you are still on thin ice, flower. That thing is not a bracelet." He was gesturing to your ankle monitor.

"We don't give a shit if you kill them; in other circumstances, I would have gladly help you. Shadows are cunts, and they all act like mutts after a bone. But getting into a fight with people who are guests in our base is not a good view for the higher-ups, and Laswell and the Captain can only do so much in your defence." You listened attentively, his words making sense, but you still couldn't help but feel annoyed as you saw the man and his friends being escorted to their car, Price still on his call.

"Besides, you don't have to do it all yourself, you know?" He said that, and you directed your glance back to him.

"What do you mean?"

"You don't have to take care of yourself alone. We are a team; we take care of each other." You can't help but show a hint of surprise on your face.

"Are we?"

"Yes."

After almost four months...the bastard.

A smile slipped from your lips, and he kept looking down at you. In another context, he would be pissed at giving in, but he let you savour your victory, you deserved it.

The moment was broken as Price approached.

"Back to base, muppets," he said, opening the driver door, not before watching the car of the members of the Shadow Company leave the car park.

Soap came behind him to ruffle your hair, making you groan playfully.

"You okay, bonnie?" He asked warmly.

Gaz also arrived behind him, handing you your forgotten jacket and a can of Coke he bought you.

"Thanks, Kyle...yeah, I'm fine. Fuck... I’m sorry." A hint of embarrassment got to you as you rubbed your temples.

“None of that, bonnie. Anyone would have done the same. Not me, though; I would have kicked his balls.” Soap said, shrugging, making you chuckle.

“Not for punching him. For ruining the night.”

“Sweetheart, everything is fine. I talked to Shepherd; he’ll chew Graves ear off. For now, they’ll enjoy cleaning the showers with a toothbrush, and they’re banned from the mess hall and the gym, so you won’t see them.” You listened to Price, and you looked back at Ghost, who was giving you an ‘I told you so’ glance.

“Arthur said that you'd get a free drink next time.” Gaz said, also trying to lighten your mood.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, trying to avoid their gazes. You felt vulnerable, accepting help; it felt both terrible and surprisingly heart-warming.

The way back was actually nice, with Price telling a story from when he was a private and they had a few drinks while camping. One of them got so drunk that they made him believe there were lions in that zone, and he was scared shitless until he sober up enough to realise, they were in the German countryside.

The stories were a bit silly, but the way they were telling them was both endearing and entertaining. There was a fuzzy feeling in your stomach, and your cheeks hurt a bit because you were not accustomed to laughing and smiling this much.

next chapter: coming soon!

Thank you to the lovely people following this! <3: @no-lessthan3 , @blush-haze , @eustassh , @valkyrieunknown

if you like it leave me some kudos or suggestions on ao3! <3

[alicepao13]

Hudson and Rex S02E16 - Flare of the Dog

Ah. Title puns. Okay, fine, that's decent, in my opinion anyway. What a good episode, though. I'm a fan of whump. Did I mention that?

"You know that real cops drink their coffee black". You've only had lattes all season, what the fuck???

Jesse is once again manning the office on his own. I hope they're paying him some overtime at least.

If you actually pause the screen when the arsonist is ready to throw the Molotov cocktail, then it's case closed.

RIP Charlie Hudson.

What do you mean, he got away without a scratch (and a busted ankle)? That blew up on his face! Oh, I know. Rex's tongue has healing properties.

I'll take your word for it, Joe. Since we didn't see it at all.

Dude expects to be instantly fine after that. Again, you're lucky you have your face intact.

Why no Sarah, by the way?

Um, are you serious? He just woke up.

I imagine it was the part where you told him to shake it off. Make up your mind, Donovan.

That might be the most thirsting anyone has ever done in this show.

Bud's wife is so sweet. And the scene is so sad.

That's putting it mildly, actually.

A firefighter who appears for the first time in an arson case AND flirts with Sarah? Yeah, who else could have done it? This is how I mostly find the culprit now. Through extensive experience in crime show plots.

"This is a secure area. I'm gonna have to ask you to leave". We are the police, Miss Red Herring.

We're stealing brownies now. Rex and Charlie are so bored.

Nurse: "Looks like you're diagnosed with lateral malingus". Charlie: "Malleolus". Nurse: "Yeah. Mallegolus. Magolus". I'd be feeling so safe in that hospital after this.

You wish. They're actually from the guy who tried to murder you. Charlie's disappointed "Ah" after that is closer to "ew".

Rex, my favorite judge of character. Except for that one time with Eva, although I believe they said that he was drawn to her because she was sick and he could sense it? Something like that.

Rex: What is your wannabe murderer doing in your hospital room and flirting with my wannabe mom, and also can I bite him?

Charlie: *notices the flirty vibe* I was literally gone for like half a day, what the fuck happened?

Oh I forgot that Joe's shotgun survived until S2 apparently. Might not be the same one, though.

Show, don't tell. In what way, shape, or form has that been showcased so far?

Jesse: [Charlie] would agree that this is a Bible verse. Charlie: I'm guessing it's an acronym. Oof. Tough loss.

IMHO means in my humble opinion? Not in my honest opinion?

It won't hurt you to sit your ass down for a few days. Or, well, it will, but it won't be the rest. Just the murderous psycho.

That's cute.

Good news, Jesse. You get to interview someone.

Oh, he's totally doing this on purpose.

*Charlie sees Sarah's caller ID* Charlie: Hey Sarah ☺️☺️☺️ Rex: ☺️☺️☺️ Sarah: I'm here with *longest pause ever* Asher. Charlie: 🙄🙄🙄 Rex: 😠😠😠

"Maybe the police should stick to investigating and the fire department should stick to inspections". Yeah, I bet you'd love that, Charlie. Jeez, the jealousy.

Charlie: Rex lost a partner. Rex: Don't tell my tragic backstory to him!

I think I can see the makeup cover work for John Reardon's arm tattoo.

Jesse: "This is nice. You know, you and I just figuring stuff out together. I like playing the Charlie". Sarah: "I'm the Charlie in this situation". lol. Also, what was it with that look, Jesse?

And now the mafia is involved.

"You could take Rex". Subtle way to get your partner to look out for the woman you like.

Listen, I might be making some shit up but I'm not making this up.

I'd say it actually looks pretty bad but given the very bad makeup work I've seen lately on 911 that should be better than this show, I'll just say this: Either get your actors to agree not to get tattoos in easily visible places or work the tattoo into the story, which is the normal thing to do. There's nothing in Charlie's backstory that suggests he'd never get a tattoo so I don't see what the problem was, and they eventually did it anyway.

"I'm gonna get all the head rubs I can before that guy runs away with my mom."

They took our case! Oh, well, we'll still investigate.

Drama queen Charlie Hudson, everyone.

She declared St.John's to be in a state of emergency for that? Just for that?

Okay, seriously, the "special police" sounds ridiculous. I hope that's not actually a thing, Canada.

Jesse: "And this is where I remind you that every time I go out in the field, something bad happens. I've been shot! I've been drowned!" This is actually a level of awareness that most crime show characters are incapable of displaying. Including Charlie.

"Our greatest weapon is Rex and Rex runs on snacks" lol

Jesse: Rex track! Charlie: Not now, Jesse. Rex: Rex don't track?

You know, yay for the whump and all, but I'm not a foot fetishist and we've seen Charlie's feet get too much screentime.

What's he looking at? God?

Charlie is in danger! *cut to commercial*

Jesse: I'm the Charlie. Rex: Fuck this, I'll just solve the case like I usually do anyway.

I like that in the scene where Sarah realizes Asher is the arsonist, one of our classic background tracks is playing and right on the moment she comes to the realization, it abruptly stops. It's the little things.

Oh, yeah, we're fucked.

Delicious. Finally some good fucking whump.

Asher: "Stop, Charlie. It won't do you any good". Well, he'll die for sure if he doesn't try so it won't do him any bad either.

Ouch. One with the floor.

"I'll toast at your funeral, Charlie". Motherfucker, up until that point you hadn't reached piece-of-shit levels because I've seen too many villains but after that, I wanted to watch you die.

"I'll take care of Rex for you". Like anyone would let you. I half expected him to say "and Sarah".

Sad AU where the reveal didn't happen, Charlie was killed and no one suspected Asher. Asher and Sarah started dating, Sarah adopted Rex, who of course never warmed up to Asher but he brushed it aside as, "he's just missing his partner and he thinks I'm replacing him in some way," which to Sarah doesn't even make sense, because she didn't know that Charlie liked her but Asher had realized it the minute he had stepped into that hospital room. Time goes by, and Sarah is noticing more and more things about Asher that don't add up, odd phone calls, smoke smell when he's not on duty, and such. She goes to Joe to share her suspicions and along with Jesse, they quietly reopen the investigation. The truth is, of course, shocking. That man had been to Charlie's funeral, had dated Sarah for months. There is no good ending, I mean, how could there be in this case? After arresting Asher, he tells Sarah that he's certain Charlie had a thing for her, which makes her feel even worse. Then Sarah goes to his grave with Rex and tells Charlie that they finally got his killer. But even as she tells him, she can't stop thinking of all the times that she'd gone to Charlie's grave with flowers and Asher had insisted on accompanying her and Rex, Rex's low growls and whines every time Asher went with them, and she now knew it was because Rex could tell: Asher had been practically dancing on Charlie's grave. [Sorry about that.]

Oh, I enjoyed Jesse whacking him. It wasn't much but it was something.

And closing the episode by making friends at the fire department and making Rex an honorary firefighter.

We literally never saw them again.

Aside from everything else, I also liked how the rest of the team took up roles that they don't usually do when Charlie was incapacitated. That was fun to see.

[modern-day-bard]

Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction

Content Warning: 18+ Minors, do not interact. This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut.

a/n: Hello! Thank you to anyone who has made it this far 💖 I had planned to upload two chapters each time I update the story, but life is getting away from me currently, and I want to make sure I spend enough time editing each chapter before it's posted. Depending on how crazy things get, I might have to start uploading them on separate days. The chapters are always uploaded on ao3 first (it takes less time), and I will get them over here as soon as possible. Thank you again for reading!

Chapter 9: Dodge

Word count: 2.5k

Gwen

I glance at the door to the studio for the third time in under a minute. What possessed me to agree to combat training? Self-defense, Joel had called it. But honestly, unless I’m plucked out of New York and placed on a battlefield, I’m struggling to see when I would need to use the steps Joel is walking me through right now.

“When I said we could do this in the morning, I didn’t think I’d be watching you attack fake opponents at eight a.m.”

Joel stops mid-slowmo punch. “I let you sleep in.”

“Oh, you let me? Thanks, gracious drill sergeant.”

For a moment, I think he smirks, but it vanishes as quickly as it arrived. Dystopian Warzone Training is far too important to waste time on humor.

“Did you absorb everything I just said?”

“Sure.” I don’t even try to make it sound convincing.

I wasn’t lying about what I said last night. The last time I did anything remotely similar to self-defense, I cried until I became such a disturbance to the other students that my mom carried me out. I’m not sure how much of your personality is fully formed at seven-years-old, but this part certainly stuck. Something about the fighting, even if it was rehearsed, really stresses me out. And the majority of what Joel has done so far is just talk while miming a few moves. Talking about what to do if someone approaches me from behind just makes me want to bolt. My mom and I got ice cream when we left, and I keep wanting to leave and do the same thing now, twenty years later. Or maybe I’d start with a croissant instead.

“Miss Russell?” Joel lifts a brow, and I realize that I was off in dream-land.

“What?”

“I was asking what’s one thing you remember from what I’ve told you?”

“Um…trust your instincts…element of surprise…and remember to SING.”

Joel’s brow furrows together. “I never said anything about singing.”

“No, the acronym. Solar plexus, instep, nose, groin.” I put my hands on my hips, hoping he’ll move on.

“You got that from a movie.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. It’s a good movie, but I didn’t say it.”

“Ah, he watches movies. Romcoms, even. Maybe you’re more human than I thought.”

“How am I not—you know what, no. Miss Russell, let’s run through the basics again, okay?”

I give him a non-committal nod. “Fine.”

“Trusting your instincts and using the element of surprise are correct. Just keep in mind your attacker might use those two things on you as well. Someone of your status is likely to be surprised because whoever would be near you would most likely be in an area that you already deem to be safe.”

Geez. Thanks, Joel. Now my palms are sweaty.

“I can teach you how to punch, as I demonstrated before, but maybe we should start with something else. There are maneuvers that catch people a little more off-guard. A punch is effective when administered correctly, but it’s easy to see coming. Plus, someone of your stature–”

“My stature?”

Joel holds up his palms like a white flag. “What I mean is, imagine the person approaching you is my size. It’s a lot for you to defend against. Simply using brute force to take me down won’t be possible. You’ll need to be quick and effective in your attacks.”

Unfortunately, he’s right. I’ve been trying not to look at Joel because I can’t do so without thinking of my friends’ stupid reactions to him the other night. It’s these gym clothes of his. They’re made to mold to men in a way that makes them irritatingly attractive. It’s not the fact that it’s Joel, it can’t be. It’s just a good looking guy being knowledgeable while wearing another dark compression top. It looks…slutty on him. I never understood when people got crushes on their professors, but if they were teaching me something physical…well, anyway, now I get it. Regardless, he’s almost a foot taller than me, and true to bodyguard form, he is built like a method of protection. Sculpted to shield.

Distractingly attractive, and with the combination of how legitimately nervous I am thinking of potential attackers…my system can’t seem to figure out if I’m supposed to be scared or turned on. The thought of that alone sends a pulse of panic down my arms. This man is a nuisance, regardless of how enticing the packaging might be.

“Hitting with an open hand,” Joel flexes his palm, “Reduces the risk of injury. And you can easily attack from a non-confrontational stance, like the one I have now.”

I look at the beast across from me, standing wide-legged, palms up in front of him. “You don’t look non-confrontational.”

“Well, that’s because I’m with you.”

I huff out one, short laugh. “Was that a joke?”

“No,” His tone betrays him. It was totally an attempt at a joke. “Palms up.”

I roll my eyes, mirroring his stance.

“Excellent. From here you can do a heel-palm strike,” Joel slowly brings his hand toward my nose, and I resist pulling away, “An eye strike,” he brings his other hand toward me with his fingers outstretched, “Or a knee strike.” He places his hands on my shoulders, and I jump.

“I’m sorry.” He pulls back immediately.

“It’s fine. I was just expecting your knee. That’s all.”

“I should have warned you that it’s common to use your opponent as leverage to make a strike like that. Why don’t you try those three on me?”

He stands perfectly still.

I toss my braid behind my back, squaring my shoulders, feeling like an idiot. But to give him credit, Joel’s expression is earnest and patient. I feel mean, bringing my heel up to his nose, but I do it anyway.

“Good,” he says, moving out of the way to avoid my mediocre attack. “Now, eye strike.”

I move a little faster this time, and again he moves out of the way, nodding.

Finally, I bring my hands up his shoulders, embarrassed that I have to go on my tippy toes to reach them.

“So, that might not help you with your leverage,” Joel grabs my hands, startling me just a little. He slows his movements, noticing my surprise. “Try putting them here instead,” He places my palms on his chest, and I can feel his steady heart underneath the wall of muscle. “It’s okay to push back a little while you bring your knee up, just keep the majority of the weight on your back leg so you don’t lose your balance.”

He gives me an encouraging nod, and I bring my knee up sharply.

“Hey,” He pulls back, “Close one.” I swear there is a hint of a proud smile on his face now, but it could be from embarrassment. He moves on quickly. “If you’re able, you can also use my arms as leverage,” He moves my hands, much slower this time, to wrap around his forearms. I shift my weight again, trying to ignore how his arms feel against my hands, how strong…

I hike my knee up as fast as I can.

Joel barely gets out of the way in time.

“I’m going to chock that up to you practicing the element of surprise, instead of a very literal attempt to hurt me. Well done.”

“Sorry,” I shake my head, stepping back.

“Let’s move on,” he says, rubbing one set of knuckles with the other hand. “Those are effective if your attacker is coming at you from the front. If they’re trying to surprise you, they may come at you from behind.”

Suddenly I’m thinking of my bed. If I’m facing the windows, my back is toward the door. Some masked figure could creep in at night, and attack before I would even see them. Or if I’m at dinner, and suddenly there’s something threatening pressed against my back, telling me to get up and walk out with them.

A small part of me remembers this from childhood. Some vague memory about the discussion of fighting, or attacking, or opponents, and it makes my heart rate quicken just as it did back then. At least at the time it was acceptable to just sit down on the mat and cry. I can’t remember the last time I cried in front of anyone. And I could never cry in front of Miller. Especially now that I’m irritated with him for…for…I don’t know.

“I’m going to demonstrate coming up behind you, and I’ll show you how to escape. Okay?”

“Okay,” My voice sounds clipped and hollow.

Joel moves to stand behind me and I feel all the muscles in my back tense up. I take a deep breath, trying to loosen up.

It’s just training, Gwen. You’re fine.

“You ready?”

I just nod.

Thankfully, because of the mat, I can hear Joel move the couple of steps it takes to reach me. His warm hands move slowly to cross in front of me, caging me in. This time, it doesn’t startle me. In fact, his warmth is oddly…comforting. Maybe it’s just the fact that I can’t see his distracting face with his too-sincere-eyes. That, and the fact that we’re not currently talking about all these potential threats I’m now facing. Though I suppose the threat has always been here, I just didn’t realize that anyone had taken action toward making good on that threat.

“In this position, you can’t use your arms to defend yourself.” Joel wraps his arms a little tighter around me. His words tickle my ear, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. A sensation I desperately hope goes unnoticed.

“You can headbutt your opponent, though with your height, it might be difficult. I would recommend that you drive your fist into your attacker's groin. But we’ll practice how to hit on a punching bag later.”

I nod again, actually keyed into what he’s saying now.

He releases me, but keeps his hands on my shoulders, indicating not to turn around yet. “The next one I’m going to show you is the chokehold. I won’t apply pressure, I just want to show you how to go through the motions. Is that okay?”

“Mhm,” I wonder if the small circles his thumb is drawing on my right shoulder are on purpose, or just subconscious. I wish I could close my eyes and focus only on how good it feels. In the split second as my eyes flutter shut, I’m overwhelmed by how good he smells. I’m not even sure if he showered this morning. Can a man smell that good naturally?

“Okay so anyone experienced will have one hand on your head,” He places his palm on the top of my hair, “And the other arm will wrap around you here,” He moves his right arm so that my neck rests in the crook of it. As Joel settles in, his wrapped around hand resting on my opposite shoulder, I feel like I should be doing something. Not fighting him off but… turning toward him. Or reaching behind me, grabbing his waist, pulling him closer.

“From here,” his gruff voice sounds even huskier in this stance, “You need to put space between us, so wrap your hands around my arm near your neck and pull. You’ll need less space than you think to get air through.”

I place one hand on his bicep, and one on his forearm, and pull. I don’t want to be noticing the heaviness in my chest, struggling to rise and fall with his arm resting at the top. Or how my breath catches, though he hasn’t applied any pressure, just as he said. All I know is that I’m not thinking of someone breaking into my bedroom anymore. But I’m not picturing myself alone in there, either.

“I’ll tighten just a little so you can use your weight to get away. I promise you’ll still be able to breathe. Alright?”

“Okay,” I sound short-winded, and I’ve barely even moved.

It wasn’t Joel tightening his grip on me that did it, or the feel of his arms, or the gentle way his hand rests on my head despite our position. It was this damn, low, almost inaudible grunt he let out when he pulled me closer. My back being pressed against him by his force alone, the peace it brought me where moments before a spiral had been taking over. I feel myself start to arch my back—

“No,” I say, tapping his arm rapidly with my hand. He releases me instantly, taking several steps back as I whip around to face him, even though I don’t dare look at him directly.

“I’m sorry, Miss Russell. Was it too much?” His voice is apologetic, riddled with concern.

It actually wasn’t enough.

“We don’t have to do the demonstrations if—”

“I’m hungry.” I blurt out.

Joel pauses. “If I made you uncomfortable—”

“Please, I’m not uncomfortable. I forgot to eat.” I laugh a little, hoping he’ll buy it. “I’m gonna go—” I was going to say I’m going to get bagels, but he would be required to come with me. And I need to keep him and his stupid, chiseled chest as far away from me as possible. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“Don’t you need to eat?” He doesn’t look like he’s trying to tease me, even though I know he can tell I’m lying. His big brown eyes are still full of worry.

“Yeah I’ll grab a granola bar or something,” I say as I stride toward the door of the studio, yanking it open. I don’t check to see if he follows me, and even though I assume he will, I make it all the way back on to the elevator and into my foyer without hearing his footsteps. Once inside, I lightly slap my face.

“What are you thinking, Gwen. You can’t stand him.” I whisper, shuddering on my way to the bathroom.

But I know what I was thinking. I was thinking of those concerned eyes, and that natural, musky smell. And how I found myself wishing that Ryan-Brian the other night had hair like Joel’s so I could pull the ends of his waves as we kissed. I was thinking about those broad, broad shoulders. And how, despite other people in my life who claimed to care about my well-being, he had been the only one to tell me the truth about the break-in.

You don’t know his motivations. You don’t know why he’s really here.

The cynic is clawing at the hormonal part of my brain, imploring me to stick to the plan. Get him out of here.

But as that thought floats through my mind, it’s not determination that latches on to it, but fear.

I don’t want him to leave.

Rationally, it must be because of any legitimate threat that could come my way. It’s not because it’s him. I’m just unsatisfied right now. And I know just who to call to remedy that situation and refocus.

So, before I can hear Joel walk through the elevator doors, I turn on the water, and proceed to take the coldest shower I’ve ever had.

Next Chapter

Previous chapter

Masterlist

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

So, recently found someone tried pressing charges on me for this. However, cops laughed at him for it.

Am I the AH because I reported my manager?

I(F24-27) met this manager(M 27-30) when I worked at my last job. This manager was being lovely and started dating a newly high-school graduate. His girlfriend got fired for stealing not just merchandise, but money from the register. She was promptly fired and he claimed they broke up for it, but got back together. The summer after she was fired, an employee's dumb ass fell for a phone scam and the store lost thousands of dollars. She was fired too, but it was under his authority that she did the phone scam since he was "too busy" to do it. It was apparently some register program maintenance? Yeah, a manager is suppose to do that, but he didn't. My manager went on vacation for the entire month of his birthday, during that time I sent him a happy birthday and told him he was missed and we awaited his return. Months later at the end of the year, his girlfriend saw the messages, and when I arrived at work he basically threatened my job and called me some colorful things. I cried then and there and he refused to apologize to me cause he was so happily taken and blah blah.

So here's what happened. Because he refused to apologize to me, I cried the entire day. We had recently gotten a new store manager, and he was concerned and asked me what was wrong. I told him what happened and even showed him the messages I sent my manager from months back. He said he didn't see anything wrong with them, that even he himself would have sent similar messages if someone was gone for that long. So, he wrote him up for it. So, apparently I was the bad person for that? I mean, he said some messed up things to me. Keep in mind, this was the week before the new year. Ok, after the new year started, there was a lot of investigations going on, thanks to our previous store manager since someone blew the whistle on her and found out she did a lot of sketchy things. My manager was being investigated for this too, for dating someone who got fired for stealing and the phone scam thing (I think it's because the store lost more than 10,000, I seriously wish I was joking). So, apparently me reporting him for what he did to me was wrong by his logic. So, months went by of the several investigations, even some auditing company got involved (I know scary!), and by May, this manager went on a couple of week vacation. He had posted online him playing a drinking game and another employee who he worked under and was a minor too, was present in what he recorded and posted online. Now, my beef is he had admitted to me he provided alcohol for his gf when she was a minor and her friends, then I see that crap. I ended up reporting it and I guess I cost him his job? He literally went to another company after it happened. I know I'm not the moral police and other people aren't my responsibility, but I just didn't feel right seeing that. He was 29, what is he doing hanging out when 17-20 year olds? The only legal adult was his gf, these were her buddies she made when she was in high school. I'm not sure where the 17 year old came from tbh? I just know she was working at our store and was 17 at the time, but that's besides the point.

So, I found out recently a little before covid started when he contacted me he was trying to get evidence to press charges on me. I mean, it didn't happen and I'm still confused how I could have had charges pressed on me. When he contacted me I called him a POS, groomer, and other colorful things. Sorry, everything I knew about him and what he did to me made me feel bitter against him. I don't know if what I did may have broke laws? But who cares, this isn't what this is about. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

One Captain's Daughter - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / OC (Amara Blackwood-Mitchell)

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Light Angst, Daddy Issues, Arguing, Complicated Family and Relationship Dynamics; Female OC from Third Person POV

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Chapter Summary: Amara Blackwood-Mitchell arrives in Miramar for her next assignment. And she can't stop running into familiar faces along the way.

Heading to Miramar, California—the sight of her parents’ ill-fated romantic story that led to her pathetic existence—was not on Amara Blackwood’s preferred to do list for the month, but she couldn’t argue with the Pentagon.

And that’s Amara Blackwood to you. Not Amara Mitchell. Not when the Pentagon was involved.

Her sensible professional heels clacked against the pavement as she walked quickly towards the base offices . Her dark ponytail swayed just a bit as she flashed her ID and badge to the guards on duty. The lock clicked open, and Amara nodded in thanks to the guards before heading inside the refreshingly cold building.

Amara glanced at her watch as she entered the elevator. She was early, but she was quite sure that the military preferred for her to be early rather than late. And besides, Vice Admiral Simpson, or Cyclone as she was told to call him, wanted her to come to base as soon as she landed in San Diego. There was no time to waste in his eyes. 

Luckily for Amara, it was late enough in the day that the halls were relatively empty. Cyclone had emailed her their meeting spot ahead of time and with a quick scan of the directory, Amara found the secluded conference room at the end of the hall. She knocked lightly to announce her presence before pushing the door open.

“I hope that I’m not interrupting, but I . . .”

Amara trailed off when she locked eyes with a startled Pete Mitchell. The door shutting behind her was the only noise in the room for a few moments as the father-daughter duo locked eyes for the first time in a couple of months. Amara looked away first, pursing her lips, and turned instead to Cyclone and Warlock.

“I hope that I’m not interrupting anything, Vice Admiral Simpson, Rear Admiral Bates . . . Captain Mitchell,” she added as an afterthought. Her grip on her folders subtly tightened. “But I was told to come here as soon as I arrived in town.”

“You weren’t interrupting anything, Miss Mitchell,” Cyclone assured her with a curt nod, “and thank you for coming.”

“Of course, sir. But it’s Blackwood, sir. Miss Blackwood,” Amara corrected softly.

“My apologies. But were you ever given a callsign before, Miss Blackwood?” Cyclone asked Amara. She tried to withhold a grimace at Cyclone’s question. And she ignored the fact that Maverick's gaze was burning into her side. “For clarity purposes on base.”

“. . . Honda . . . sir," Amara grunted out.

“Ah,” Cyclone replied, recognizing the nature of the callsign. He glanced knowingly over at Maverick before returning his gaze to Amara. “I suppose that would make.”

And why did it make sense?

Because ‘Honda,’ unlike many callsigns, was an acronym. For Hands Off: Her Navy Dad is an Aviator. Or, to translate into layman's terms: fuck around and find out.

Amara hated her callsign because it wasn’t about her, but her father instead. Didn’t she deserve her own callsign if they were going to force her to have one? This was exactly why she never ever wanted to become a naval aviator—the second that they read ‘Mitchell’ on the paperwork, any chance at a fair chance went out the window.

“Honda, we were just discussing Maverick’s role in the upcoming mission,” Warlock spoke up, causing Amara to nod.

"Of course.” Amara walked over to the table and opened her folder. She handed over two packets of new paperwork to Cyclone and Warlock before straightening up. “All of the proper authorizations have been put in place, but the Pentagon is still concerned about the specifics of the mission.”

“What specifics?” Maverick asked her.

Amara paused to steady herself before slowly turning to face him.

“The Pentagon just wants to ensure that the team that they send in can get the job done correctly,” Amara replied stiffly.

She turned to her dad and straightened up a bit, clearly unhappy with how she was blindsided about the set up of this particular job.

“I see,” Maverick trailed off.

“Yes,” Amara agreed before turning back to Cyclone and Warlock. “But the Pentagon, under direction from the Commander-in-Chief, has updated their required parameters for this mission, which you can find in the marked sections of these packets.”

“Can I see these parameters?” Maverick questioned, walking over to Amara.

“Very well,” Cyclone replied gruffly, clearly not a fan of Maverick.

Amara pulled another packet out and handed it over to Maverick, though she didn’t spare him another glance. As Cyclone, Warlock, and Maverick flipped through their packets, Amara’s eyes floated up to the screen where the images of the twelve naval aviators that her Uncle Ice had personally selected for the mission were displayed.

Her eyes landed on one pilot in particular with a mustache that she would have ridiculed far more if she didn’t know the story behind why he had it.

Of course, it wasn’t bad enough that she had to run into her father here, but also Bradley, who she hadn’t seen in even longer. And under even worse circumstances, if that was believable.

“If you have no further questions, Maverick, you’re dismissed,” Cyclone stated, leaning back in his chair. “We just have basic policy and protocol questions for Honda that won’t impact your role in the preparation for this mission.”

“I don’t,” Maverick replied, handing the packet back to Amara. She took it without a glance up at him. “Until tomorrow, sirs.” Maverick turned to Amara, who continued to refuse to meet his gaze in front of Cyclone and Warlock. “Honda.”

Amara acknowledged him with a nod, but nothing else. Instead, she simply focused on Cyclone and Warlock. She pushed any thought of her father or Bradley out of her mind and just focused on the job at hand. That was why she was here in the first place.

Rehashing old shit was not what she was here to do, nor was it what she wanted to do.

~~~~~

Amara walked out of the base office building with the intention of immediately going back to her temporary residence and take a long, hot shower to get the residual cross-country flight grossness off of her. And maybe stop for a quick grocery trip on the way there.

But, alas, she would not get her quiet night.

Pulling out her keys, Amara looked up and immediately frowned when she spotted her father leaning on her rental car with his arms crossed over his chest. How he even knew that it was her car, she didn’t know, but either way, he very clearly wasn’t leaving without talking to her. Amara paused for a moment, letting out a low sigh, before walking over to him.

“Captain Mitchell, did you have additional questions on the mission?” Amara asked, trying to remain professional in public.

“Amara, please,” Maverick sighed, standing up and taking a step forward. “I . . . you never told me you were on the West Coast.”

“Yes, well, I wasn’t on the West Coast until about four hours ago,” Amara replied, glancing down at her watch. She returned her gaze to Maverick. “Besides, I was under the impression that you were probably still sitting in a Nevada base hospital after that little stunt you pulled.”

“You heard about that?” Maverick asked, wincing at her statement.

“Oh, yes. And there was nothing better than watching my boss storm around the office cursing ‘that dumbass pilot Mitchell’ for the better part of three hours. Of course, that was during the stretch of time where they thought that you were vaporized somewhere over the desert, and I was fielding calls from one rather unsympathetic and pissed off Rear Admiral Cain.”

Amara’s lips wavered a bit, which only made her force them into a harder line. Maverick didn’t need to know that she’d silently cried in a bathroom cubicle for half an hour about the fact that he was potentially killed in a stupid test run that could have easily been avoided. And about the fact that she couldn’t call anyone to talk about it since the whole thing was highly classified.

“I shouldn’t have pushed it,” Maverick admitted, causing Amara to withhold a scoff.

“And yet you never learn,” Amara replied, a bit more forcefully than she intended. “You just get Ice to bail you out and then you go off and do the exact same thing again.” Amara’s eyes narrowed into a glare that reminded Maverick all too well of the ones that her mother sent him back in the day. “You do realize that your luck is going to run out sooner rather than later, right?”

When Maverick didn’t respond, Amara had her answer. Shaking her head, Amara brushed past him, wanting nothing more than to just be alone and curl up under a blanket until she inevitably had to leave it the next morning.

“Amara, please—”

“—It’s Miss Blackwood or Honda in professional settings, Captain Mitchell,” Amara corrected, turning to shoot him another look.

“Then let’s go off base,” Maverick suggested as Amara tugged her car door open. “Please, Amara—Miss Blackwood. Let’s just talk. If we’re going to be working together and remain professional, we should talk. Now. Before the whole thing starts.”

Amara pursed her lips together again, narrowing her eyes at her father. He was clearly pleading with her, and he had pulled her whole ‘professionalism’ card and thrown it back into her face. And she had to admit that he did have a point. It was better if they got the residual awkwardness out of their systems now. Without too big of an audience.

“Fine,” she sighed, sliding into her car.

~~~~~

The Hard Deck was still quiet when Maverick and Amara walked in.

Amara tossed aside her professional suit jacket and exchanged her heels for the ratty Vans that she’d had for years. With her pressed button down and black pencil skirt, she was still going to stick out like a sore thumb at the bar, but there was nothing that she could do about that now.

“Let’s sit at the bar,” Maverick suggested, leading the way to the corner.

They sat down quietly on the padded barstools. Amara noticed the sign behind the bar but didn’t comment about it. Perhaps it was cruel to then watch her father slowly place his phone onto the bar top, which she could have easily prevented, but life was about the little things.

“You've got to be kidding me,” a familiar voice called, causing both Mitchells to look up. Penny stood in front of them, staring down Maverick with a mix of emotions that Amara really did not want to identify. "Pete."

“Penny?” Maverick returned, in disbelief.

Amara withheld an eyeroll and simply reached for her drink. She knew all about her dad's history with Penny Benjamin from Carole, Ice, and her mom. And she met Penny several times over the years. They got along fine, though Amara didn't really have an interest in developing a stronger or lasting relationship with her dad's on-and-off girlfriend.

“You remember my daughter, right?” Maverick spoke up, gesturing to Amara. Penny smiled good-naturedly at Amara, who returned it with a polite nod.

“Yes, of course. It’s good to see you again, Amara.”

“You as well, Penny.”

“You were a lot younger the last time that I saw you,” Penny stated, causing Amara to chuckle.

“Yeah, I think that I was still in high school the last time,” Amara replied, thinking back over the years.

“What are you doing in town?”

“Working for the Pentagon,” Amara explained, deciding to just leave it there.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

"Well, I'll leave you two be," Penny replied, glancing over at Maverick, before making her exit.

Amara waited until Penny was out of earshot before turning to shoot Maverick a mildly annoyed look.

“You’re still playing games with Penny Benjamin?” Amara sighed, shaking her head. "Really?"

"What do you mean 'really'?"

"You've been going back and forth with her since before you even met Mom," Amara pointed out, taking a sip of her drink. "Make up your mind already."

"Life is complicated."

"I'm aware," Amara replied dryly, staring across the bar.

Maverick stared over at his daughter for a moment with a slightly subdued expression. Taking a sip of his own drink, Maverick cleared his throat before turning back to Amara.

“How is your mom doing these days?”

“Fine. Susan’s trying to get her to retire,” Amara replied, staring down at her drink. “Or at least take a step back so that she doesn’t overexert herself.” Amara set down her drink and stirred it around with her straw. “But you know Mom. She’s stubborn.” Amara turned to her dad. “You both are.”

“I suppose that I can’t fault you for being stubborn too then,” Maverick quipped back.

“Learned from the best,” Amara replied honestly.

“You’re still living in DC then?” Maverick asked after a brief pause.

“For now, yeah.”

“For now?” Maverick repeated, looking a bit confused. He tried to connect the puzzle pieces in his mind and let out a low sigh when he came up with a guess. “Please don’t tell me that you’re moving because of . . . what the hell was his name again?”

“Caleb,” Amara stated, shooting her father a look.

“Right . . . Caleb.”

Amara withheld an eye roll at Maverick’s tone. Caleb, her last relationship, had been her boyfriend for about seven months before she inevitably ended things. Maverick only met Caleb once when he was in town to visit her and Charlie and it hadn’t gone the best.

“You can drop the fake niceness,” Amara told Maverick bluntly. “I dumped him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” Amara laughed, shaking her head at him. “You hated him.”

“Your mom didn’t like him either,” Maverick replied, causing Amara to turn her head sharply towards him. She narrowed her eyes slightly.

“Do you and Mom just gossip about my love life behind my back?” she demanded in an annoyed tone. “You have nothing better to talk about? Nothing?”

“It comes up in conversation occasionally.”

“Bullshit.”

“It does!”

“Great,” Amara muttered, shaking her head. “And if you must know, the reason why I’m considering leaving DC is because I might move into the private sector. Or maybe a different career field entirely. I don’t even know anymore.”

“Really?” Maverick asked, looking surprised at the news. “Why?”

“Better pay, more flexibility. Of course, there are drawbacks too, but . . . I just don’t think that the Pentagon is my big and final calling.” Amara stared down at the bar top, moving the condensation from her drink around with her fingertip. “At least anymore.”

“When would you switch?”

“Don’t know. I’m still not completely sure that I’d do it anytime soon,” Amara replied, shrugging her shoulders. “But we’ll see.”

“So, you’re in town for the duration mission then?” Maverick asked, shifting the topic of conversation.

“Yeah,” Amara replied softly. “I’m supposed to wait around in Miramar until they return before submitting my full report.” She took a sip of her drink and lowered her gaze. “I’m mostly just here to remind cocky naval aviators that the Pentagon isn’t allowing them to do whatever they want with taxpayer-funded planes.”

“Aviators? Plural?”

“Well, there’s a whole other generation of cocky pilots to manage. I’m sure that you’ve read their files by now,” Amara spoke, glancing around the bar. “Besides, you don’t become a TOP GUN pilot by not believing in yourself. Some people just believe in themselves a little too much.”

"I know the feeling," Maverick replied, causing Amara to turn back to her dad.

"And that's why if you want to keep your current job, you need to stop pissing off admirals,” Amara warned Maverick quietly. It was his turn to avoid her gaze. “I’m serious. Cyclone doesn’t like you already. If Ice wasn’t his superior, I’m quite sure that he’d find a way to get you off the mission in a second.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No, but it was heavily implied.” Amara shook her head and let out a breath. “He’s the definition of by-the-book and you’re the definition of throwing-out-the-book. And I can already see you plotting how to scare the aviators tomorrow.”

“I’m not plotting,” Maverick insisted.

“Yes, you are. You have that look in your eye,” Amara replied, gesturing to her own eyes. “The one that Mom says that I inherited from you.” She glanced over at the naval aviators gathering around the pool table. “You’re going to put them through the ringer.”

“You know any of them?” Maverick inquired, turning from the pool table back to his daughter.

“Just the one.” Amara trailed off, leaving her implication hanging in the air. Maverick nodded slowly, looking down at his drink.

“When was the last time you talked to him?” he asked quietly.

“Two years ago. About,” Amara replied truthfully, swirling the remaining liquid around in her glass. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah . . . it has.”

Maverick paused for a moment, clearly caught up in the memories and never-ending cycle of guilt. The same cycle of guilt that Amara had called him out on numerous times as an angsty teenager when she was feeling particularly abandoned by him and his need to escape his emotions. It usually followed some kind of dumb decision on Maverick’s part that resulted in Charlie getting a call.

Amara knew that her father carried a lot of burdens that he never felt like sharing with anyone else—because that would mean actually talking about his problems—but he always had a particularly shrunken expression when he was thinking about Goose and Rooster. It was his own version of the thousand-yard stare.

“Can I get you guys anything else?” Penny asked, walking over.

“He probably needs another round,” Amara vouched for Maverick, “but I’m all set, thank you.”

“Another round?” Penny questioned Maverick, who smiled and nodded.

“I’ll be back,” Amara replied, glancing between Penny and Maverick.

She didn’t particularly want to watch her dad and his on-and-off-again girlfriend flirt, so it was as good of a time as any to take a trip to the bathroom. But, as she was washing her hands, Amara heard the bell ring and instantly knew that Penny caught Maverick with his phone on the bar top.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” she muttered to herself, drying her hands.

Making her way back out to the bar, Amara didn’t miss the sudden rush from the crowd to get their orders filled. Including one particularly smug aviator—Jake Seresin, if she recalled correctly from the files—who was definitely going to regret his attitude tomorrow.

“You sure you don’t want another round?” Penny asked Amara as she approached. “Your dad’s paying.”

“Yes, I heard,” Amara replied, shaking her head in disappointment. “But I’m all set. I should probably go grocery shopping and work on my files before tomorrow.” Pulling out her wallet, Amara handed over a twenty to Penny. “For our drinks. I’m sure that he’d be happy to cover the rest of it.”

“I thought that I was buying you a drink,” Maverick pointed out, turning to his daughter.

“You’re assuming that your card is going to work,” Amara reminded him, putting her wallet away. “I distinctly remember being on the phone with the credit card company for you a couple years ago for the better part of two hours while you were temporarily docked in Hawaii.”

“I’ll get the next one then,” Maverick offered.

“If you can finish paying off this tab first, that is. You’re lucky that it’s still early.” Amara finished off her drink before setting the empty glass back on the bar top. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” she suggested, pulling her purse strap onto her shoulder.

“Yeah. Thank you for coming. And for buying.”

“Bye, Dad.”

Amara bid goodbye to Penny as well before turning for the door. The bar was quickly filling up and she was glad to be out of there before it got too rowdy. Or before her father inevitably made an even bigger fool of himself. Mostly the second reason.

Amara walked down the sidewalk, keys in hand, and slipped into her car. She closed the door and then began the task of finding the keys to her temporary residence in her purse. And then there was the matter of trying to locate her sunglasses in the disaster of a passenger seat mess. Amara briefly glanced up in time to see a familiar Hawaiian-shirt-wearing mustached aviator walking down the boardwalk. And what did she do next, you ask?

Get out of the car like an adult and say hello?

Simply just stay where she was and wait for him to pass by without incident?

No and no because those would have been too normal of a response.

No, instead, Amara flattened herself down, ignoring how the emergency brake and gear stick dug uncomfortably into her abdomen and hoped and prayed that Bradley didn’t see her. Because that was an adult response to the situation.

Great balls of fire, she was so fucked.