#but she’s always identified more with the idea of rook. a man of the people. someone who was born and bred there | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

magebastard · 4 years ago

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(ok thank you so much @possumsunshine for making this big fat wayhaven detective questionnaire i had FUN doing it)

QUICK READ OF YOUR DETECTIVE

Name: lane m. wheatley

Pronouns: she/they

Sexuality: bisexual

Love interest: mason

Best friend: unit bravo all of them

Main skill: people

Secondary skill: science

Main personality trait: genuine

Secondary personality trait: easygoing

Why did they join the Wayhaven PD?: wants to protect people

Relationship with Rebecca: bad so bad laughably bad

Relationship with Bobby: ex

Verda or Tina?: verda

Murphy bite?: neck

Murphy’s fate?: captured

Rescue LI or Rescue Sanja?: mason she panicked

GENERAL

Name: lane marshall wheatley

Nickname: detective (affectionate)

Birthday: december 8th

Age: 27

Pronouns: she/they

Sexuality: bisexual

Hair color: honey blonde

Eye color: dark brown

Height: 5’1

Piercings: a few holes in her ears and her septum but she very rarely wears the septum ring

Tattoos: a rat on her left thigh, a stick and poke that says dunkin donuts on the inside of her left ankle

Clothing Style: smart. blazers and slacks. very shiny loafers. big bulky wristwatch. christopher moltisanti from the sopranos.

Apartment Style: dark. but fully furnished by bulk trash day

STATS

Personality:

Charming | Intimidating

Impulsive | Cautious

Sarcastic | Genuine

Friendly | Stoic

Easygoing | Stubborn

Traits:

Heart | Mind

Optimist | Pessimist

Team Player | Independent

Skills:

Main Skill: people

Second Skill: science/technology

By the Book | Bend the Rules

KEY DECISIONS

Reason for joining the Wayhaven PD: wants to protect people

Murphy bite: Wrist | Neck | None

Murphy’s Fate: Captured | Escaped

Rescued: Love Interest | Sanja

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP

Love Interest: mason

Why them?: ok time to be A Bit Much™️ but she immediately identifies herself in mason. like felix and nate are open and kind which she tries to embody, and adam respects her so long as she does her job which she understands and appreciates. she doesn’t understand or relate to any of them in a romantic sense. with mason she sees that ‘oh, he likes to hook up and flirt. he’s kind of grumpy but that’s fine i also pretty much exclusively only hook up and flirt. so that could happen.’

Bold, shy, or mixed?: bold

What were their first impressions of each other?: for lane, mason immediately pissed her off. she was very stressed out by the case and rebecca’s sudden appearance and adam’s attitude, so her patience was so thin and she just didn’t care about much beyond solving the mystery of the murder. she thought he might have seen her in a weak spot and pointedly ribbed her because of it so she was like “i literally just need to learn to ignore this man.”

for mason, it was a weird mixed bag, because he could pick up on lane’s reluctance to work with a team—especially rebecca’s team. with that impression in mind, he sees her cast all of her personal feelings aside for the sake of solving the case and protecting the town, and he relates to that instinct. other than that, he was generally annoyed that they had to work with her

What do they find attractive about each other, mentally or physically?: everything for sure but specifically their favorite features -

for lane: mason’s freckles and his long nose and hands. mentally, it’s his honesty and sense of humor

for mason: lane’s eyes, cheeks when she smiles, legs. mentally, it’s her open mindedness and protective nature

What do they do to spend time together?: they go on walks, lane tries to find mason’s favorite music, they watch movies, they go on long drives, they sit at the lighthouse, they watch sunsets together, they stare at the moon

What is their favorite memory together?: they make a lot! the first time they quietly sit together on the roof of the warehouse becomes especially important to them both over time

What are their love languages?: touch, quality time, lane is half in/half out on words of affirmation

How do they handle being apart from one another?: ok deep romance mason feels the brunt of hypersensitivity with also the ache of loss so he mostly sulks and sticks to his room. lane kind of walks around on autopilot. not really realizing it, but definitely experiencing heavy brain fog and going home and berating herself for being needy but also crying

Do they argue? How do they handle arguments and disagreements? How do they make up?: they don’t really argue! mason doesn’t really think not to speak his mind and lane is very communicative and easygoing. they bicker when one of them ends up in avoidable danger, but it usually ends with a quiet “i need you to stay safe.” something w that sentiment

What does their future look like?: traveling and a lake house. staying with unit bravo through thick and thin. lane turns when she’s 29, and they stay in wayhaven until she turns about 45 and eyebrows start to raise.

Anything else you’d like to share: they do get married. it’s a very small and very private ceremony that doesn’t really matter much to either of them but conceptually being husband and wife feels very funny and novel and also just makes sense

BEST FRIEND RELATIONSHIP

Best friend: i cannot choose but for this instance i will go with nate

Why them?: they talk a lot about literature and food and music and lane bids on antique furniture for nate because he doesn’t know how to use ebay. it’s a very precious friendship for them both

What were their first impressions of each other?: lane is weary of nate because he’s so charming that she worries that maybe he’s TOO confident. it passes when he gives that exasperated vibe off over felix being overtly outgoing in like a “oh he’s the parent” kind of way. he also has this comforting presence and she worries that he assumes she needs to be comforted. nate is weary of lane because while he’d never assume that someone is incapable at first glance, lane looks like a stiff wind would blow her over and that she hasn’t slept in a year. also his first genuine sight and impression of her is this tiny person taking a coffee pot apart piece by piece and grumbling very angrily to herself.

What do they do to spend time together?: nate purchases period piece luxury furniture and sometimes it is not in the best condition so lane and nate restore old furniture together. they debate about shakespeare and different genres of music. sometimes they play together. they swap recipes and while nate doesn’t gossip much, he always listens to station drama over tea/coffee.

Anything else you’d like to share: nate is the first person lane talks to about becoming a vampire. she knows he has his own reservations and she needs to hear them. also lane, nate and felix paint each other’s nails every few weeks. adam has an open invitation that he cashes in maybe twice a year.

OTHER RELATIONSHIPS (Feel free to go in depth!)

Relationship with Rebecca: bad! they are strangers to each other and also very sad reflections of one another. rebecca makes lane feel so small without even trying

Relationship with Rook: rook was as beloved in wayhaven as lane is now, if not more so. she hears about him in stories that every adult in town seem to know. he’s her hero and she’s always a bit devastated that she never got to know him. lane had a crisis of identity in her sophomore year of college and suddenly the stories she’d always heard felt like a calling to try to be good like rook. this ends up being why she declared her major in forensic science and started working towards becoming a detective like he was

Relationship with Bobby: it’s pretty much fine. neither of them were great when they were together and lane feels a bit bad now because she definitely used him. he did the same, for a few reasons. they’re okay now, but lane kind of feels kind of weird about the 8 months they dated.

Relationship with Verda: they are science best friends. they drink wine on the porch on summer nights, and lane babysits the kids when sol and eric need a night off

Relationship with Tina: very close. your best coworker friend who you start spending time with outside of work and then you realize that you are almost spending all of your time together with them actually. lane’s spent the last two years worth of holidays with the ponames

Relationship with the Mayor: not great! she’s very ‘by the book’ but always takes the chance to snark him. used to egg his house as a teen

Relationship with Capt. Sung: she sees him as a weird general manager at work and can be fine with small and idle chatting when they run into each other at town functions

Relationship with Haley: haley and lane hooked up a lot when lane and bobby broke up. they were band kids in high school together and it’s a very important friendship for lane

Relationship with Elidor: she is so comforted by this fae man. they talk science, they chat about personal dreams, huge hugs.

Relationship with Tapeesa/Vieno: lane has a friendly relationship with vieno! they call her buddy and she internally is like “i am! i am your buddy!”

Relationship with Unit Alpha: dunks on maaka for making fun of nate and adam. they’re pretty blunt and open and she likes that energy a lot

Relationship with the Maa-alused: a lot of guilt over them losing their home. lane gets the vibe that falk was flirting but she didn’t want to assume but also she was into it. devastated by the fact that she could have saved sanja if she hadn’t let her feelings cloud her sense of logic.

Do they have any other important relationships, past or present? (Relatives, friends, etc.?):

this is. a lot. (CW death and vehicular trauma) there was a boy who lane grew up with, who lived in the house across the street from her childhood home. by far, her best friend. they started dating freshman year of high school, and ended up in the same university, still together. lane was a comm major until her sophomore year and the two of them started a band in high school that became the band that lane was in for years.

in their sophomore yr of college, he proposed and lane said yes, of course, they had NO plan or any idea outside of the band of what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives. that same year, they ended up in a car crash and he did not make it. this is what triggered lane to kind of lose a lot of her sense of identity. she found comfort in stories about rook and decided that—with no direction, who would be better to emulate than her hero? her partner’s name was david, they were soulmates and ya she still misses him

other than that, the two other guys that were in the band who she has not seen since the funeral. i have this idea in my head of writing the scene where they visit and meet unti bravo which would be entirely for me and my own little rat brain

PERSONAL BIO

Describe their personality: very laid back and open/honest. easygoing

Strengths: very detail oriented, can spot the faintest whiff of a pattern and connect dots with sparse evidence. emotionally driven to the point that she pushes herself beyond her limits to do a job well. very technologically savvy

Weaknesses: emotionally driven lmao cannot separate herself from a case once she’s started, feels personally responsible for everyone she could not save. bottles up her anger until she has no choice but to deal w it via crying.

Where in the world is their Wayhaven?: somewhere on the east coast. near a wawa

What is their personal history?: lane is a town stray. she had her house with nannies and agency babysitters who weren’t invested in her emotional growth and well-being, so her defacto family is uh all of wayhaven. neighbors, mailmen, friends parents, shop owners. she connects as much as she can with everyone in town. she drifts a lot between them, and after the accident she realizes that she would do anything to protect these people

If they weren’t a detective, what would their dream job be?: if rook were never a detective, lane would have probably leaned less on stories of his heroism. she probably would have stuck closer to her friends and tried to commit to making music her full time job

Anything else you’d like to share: she picked up smoking very young and it’s genuinely surprising to people that she has never questioned why she does it or that she’s never had any intention of quitting ever

RANDOM FACTS

Zodiac sign: sagittarius

Hobbies: furniture restoration, making music, walking, cooking/baking

Likes: a funky little bass line, marlboro menthols, giving piggy back rides, painting walls, being a lab tech and assistant for verda, sitting on the kitchen counter in the middle of the night

Dislikes: arguing, loud noises, when it gets too hot outside, when it gets too cold outside, when she catches someone in a lie and they continue to deny it

Drink of choice: black coffee w a little cinnamon mixed in the grounds

Starbucks order: 6 shot latte w soy

Favorite food: grilled eggplant

Favorite color: this color is called black bean it’s this

Favorite music: not to be annoying but truly all of it there is something she can enjoy in every genre but early 2000’s rnb and hard core punk probably

Favorite genre (and favorite movie/book/etc): she loves a rom com but also thrillers. her favorite movies are muppets treasure island and ratatouille

Favorite season: spring!

Anything else you’d like to share: her car’s name is Hank

#c: lane wheatley #not gonna put this in tags because it is mostly for me #smoking cw #food cw #drink cw #twc #aaaaaa thank u again for making this #cw death mention #cw vehicular trauma #alcohol ment #why am i nervous about posting this lmao

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tundrainafrica · 4 years ago

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Title: En Prise (2/18)

Summary:

Hange already had the innate analysis skills and the quick wittedness to excel in the classroom. Chess should have come easy for her. As she processed her fifth loss to the man in front of her, she started to understand that there was more to the game than meets the eye.

College AU! Levi is a little too good at chess and Hange gets roped into studying the game further.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Link to other chapters: 1

Notes: Netflix has this new show out called “Queen’s Gambit” which makes chess look like I pretty good driver for a story. Attack on Titan has its fair amount of chess motifs as well and that’s when I knew a Chess AU has to exist somewhere in the fandom. With that, Levihan AU came into existence.

Hange found herself going on walks at the same time everyday when the air was a little cooler, the sunlight a little dimmer. She followed the same route she made on her first day. She never did enter the bar though, slightly conscious of the fact that she would be obligated to buy something if she did and at that point, she had no money to spare.

She settled for looking through the window as she walked, disappointed every time to find the same disappointing scene of empty chairs and an empty table on that one corner.

The first few days, she had attributed it to life. Maybe his day job just gets busy. No one can earn just playing chess.

A few days went by though, then the weekend, and he never did come back. Maybe he wasn’t a regular hustler? Maybe he was a dream? Hange quickly abandoned that last thought, her empty wallet attested to the existence of that boy.

She decided that the night before classes would be her deadline. That late afternoon, she allowed herself one long look at the window, long enough at least for the owner to come out.

"May I help you?"

"The chess player who sat at the table on the corner…" Hange did not have to say too much else.

"Ahh you’re talking about Levi. Sadly I can't say when he'd be back. He usually only comes back at the most once a month to play."

"So he's been doing this for a while?"

"Since he was much younger.” The man answered. He turned to Hange and sighed. “Look, He's a good kid. He pays for food and compensates any damages."

But he hustled me. Hange sensed the contempt she kept in her tone, as she asked the first few questions. He must have noticed it as well. It was apparent in the man's tone that he at least had some emotional attachment to the young boy.

"So this Levi guy… Would you know where I can find him?"

The owner shrugged. "Never told me. The kid doesn’t talk much."

He talks enough to hustle at least. Hange thought to herself. She could not help but remember that he had talked a fair amount for her to at least have been surprised at the bar owner’s comment. It was a particularly glaring fact since chess was a game which is supposed to be played in silence.

"Thank you. Will check back again next time then." Hänge was quick to turn around as she felt a wave of disappointment. She had no idea what type of face she was making at that moment but she bent her head down just in case.

"Do you really need the money?”

Hange looked back at the owner, the loss of her money once again painful.. “Excuse me?”

“The money he hustled from you, I mean.”

“Yes. I do.”

“Will you starve without the money?”

“No.”

“Then give the boy a break. That boy has gone to my bar long enough, something tells me that the games are all he has.”

En Prise

School was a good distraction.

The fact that chess was a part of her curriculum was the only thing that made it difficult for her to completely forget the man who had welcomed her her first night. One relieving yet somehow disappointing thing to note was her professor in PE seemed more interested in making them read up on openings and present them on screen.

Zoe, you'll be assigned the Pirc Modern.

She had expected at first to be playing and maybe reliving the frustration of losing again and again in blatantly winning positions. Studying opening theory turned out to be a respite for Hange and she found herself treating the game like any other subject.

Every night, she prepared for her lectures in chemistry, then biology, then statistics, always ending her days by opening an online chess database and replaying games on the modern opening.

Her days in her chess class would start with quizzes to identify common formations. Hange was surprised to find that most of them had names.

Every time they called out the openings and presented them on the board, Hange was brought back to the large shelf in the bookstore, with what could have been a hundred books about chess. As the students read out of index cards explaining the theories behind the first opening moves, Hange was made aware of the thousands of possibilities just by the first five moves.

Of course they would have books about these.

The first pawn moves. Where they place the knight. Where they place their bishops. Where they castle.

Every decision, every move mattered. Somehow, chess was starting to make her as excited as biology and chemistry did for so long.

The Pirc Modern opening is an opening for black as a reply to the king's pawn opening for white. It is characterized by an opening reply where black plays the pawn in front of their own queen one step forward, with plans of casting king's side with a fianchettoed bishop for added protection.

When she researched her own opening and saw it played out on the board, she could not help but think that that was one of the openings Levi had played against her that night. The thirst for some sort of conclusion at having lost so miserably to that particular opening she had to study came over her and she approached it like an opponent.

It was a relatively straight forward opening. All the first ten moves were booklines and even if white did change the move order, the game usually ended up with the same position. When Hange had played it herself, she had gone through what she had deemed most logical and had gone for the center early on. Her research introduced the possibility of something more aggressive, an idea to close the center, castle queenside with an idea of a pawn storm towards the king.

That was the idea she introduced during her own presentation.

"That's a great idea Zoe. May I remind you though that you only needed to discuss the first ten moves and the resulting position."

Hange looked up at the board she flashed on the screen, only to realize then that she had presented thirty moves all leading up to the rook exchange sacrifice on the h file and the inevitable mate.

"Oh really?" Hänge looked back at her classmates to see that most, if not everyone were all focused elsewhere, the most attentive being those staring blankly at the screen. "Thank you for listening then."

Hange packed up her laptop and made her way to her place at the side of the room.

"It looks like everyone has already presented their openings. Since we don't have much time anymore, just prepare for next week. We'll be playing actual games then."

"Nice one Zoe. At least we don't have to actually play yet."

Hange was packing her bag when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She looked back to see that the student had already passed her through the crowd of students. It was nothing new. Most students were usually in a hurry to get out since the physical education department where they had classes was a good ten minute walk away from most other classrooms.

Other students with no classes right after, probably just preferred not to be there and it was obvious. It was one of the easier classes which did not require much physical work nor did it require the difficult choice of whether to take a shower after class or be sweaty and stinky the whole day.

The opening presentations proved to be a pleasant surprise for most people as it turned out that most students did not have to actually think beyond making a presentation and reading off index cards to actually pass the class. It had been at least a month since the start of classes and even she had forgotten for a second that chess was mainly a game of war and not just a subject for research and analysis.

Hange guessed that most of the students at the most would play the openings they had to present about. Just in case, she prepared.

On the nights leading up to her next class, she had started to memorize the most common replies to each possible opening.

Those nights, she actually dreamt of the characteristic checkered board.

En Prise

"Zoe. I want to introduce you to someone."

In the midst of the bustle as students were assigned partners to play with, Hange was surprised and utterly confused to find that her name had not been on the list passed around. She had not completely processed the unexpected turn of events when her professor approached her about it. "Yes sir?"

"This is Moblit Berner. He'll be playing you today."

Hange looked up to see her professor and behind him, someone who looked to be a fellow student. Oddly enough, he was not among the faces Hange had gotten used to the past month she had been attending chess classes.

Chess is chess. Hange did not think too much of it. The pit in her stomach that made itself when she could not find her name on the list, disappeared soon after she lead her to the nearest board and placed a white pawn in front of her.

"You'll be playing white.” He looked up at her.” You can call me Moblit by the way. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too."

Moblit started to tinker with the clock. "You've used a chess clock before I imagine."

“Actually… No.” Hange had played enough games online to know chess games were timed. That was the first time though she would be playing a timed one with someone right in front of her.

For a moment Moblit’s expression changed to that of utter surprise. “Let me set it up in front of you then.”

“We’ll be playing a rapid game. Twenty minutes with a five second increment for every move.” He positioned the clock to Hange’s left, angling it so she could watch as he scrolled through different options. “Meaning when you move, you get an extra five seconds.”

“You ready?” Moblit held out his hand for Hange to shake. That was only the second time she has ever played a live game. The last time Hange had played one was with Levi. Back then, there was no clock. Her opponent hadn’t even bothered to shake her hand. Hange found herself a little more pissed off at Levi’s audacity.

“Ready.”

Hange opened up with the king’s pawn. Moblit responded by moving his own king’s pawn one step forward.

The French Opening.

Hange had read a fair amount about it to know it was not played by aggressive players. Another familiar one opening Levi had played against her. He had quickly sacrificed a piece for a pawn though and that opening that generally transitions to peaceful middle game, quickly transitioned to an aggressive attack for Levi.

Moblit played by the book lines of the Tarrasch opening. Hange was aware of the quick mating attacks that could follow his more mild approach towards the position.

He castled kingside and Hange only had to look at her five miserable loses to Levi to see the potential for a mating attack. A few moves into the start of the middle when Moblit played his flank pawn forward, Hange saw an opening for a mating sacrifice.

It was like something possessed her for a split second. Hange took the pawn sticking out from the formation with her bishop. Hange only came to terms with the gravity of the sacrifice when she made eye contact with Moblit who did not look at all like he was taken by surprise at it. He took the bishop with his pawn.

Hange froze. Was it the wrong move?

It was like all the variations which Hange had thought up just a few seconds ago disappeared from her head. She was blank. She tried to push herself to think beyond that. She desperately looked up at her opponent, for inspiration, something random, unexpected to break the block that materialized in her thinking space.

Moblit’s face was unreadable. His movements were slow, careful. Although Hange recalled a slight tremble in his hands when took her bishop, with the way he looked at the board, Hange could not help but even doubt her own memory.

She looked back down at the board, trying instead to focus on what her next plan would be. Too taken aback and frustrated by her own impulsive decision though, Hange was frozen on the spot.

Her mind had become a blank slate. And that blank slate was what led to a losing end game. When the smoke had cleared, Hange was a clear two pieces down with little to no compensation.

Hange raised one out her hand in surrender. “Thank you for the game.” Hange said.

Moblit’s eyes were wide in surprise as he took Hange’s hand. “You’re resiging?”

“There’s no way I could win now.”

“The attack was amazing. To be honest, I was a few moves until mate. It looked like you just held back at that last part. If you just brought your knight into the attack. I would have had no way to defend it.”

By the time Moblit had mentioned that last part, the pieces were close to fixed and Hange could not imagine their last position for the life of her. The embarrassment and frustration at having frozen on the spot and having lost so miserably, had her wanting to forget it at that moment. In truth, she knew would have wanted to analyze it in time. The researcher inside her was scolding her for having given up a good opportunity to learn and discover.

That only left Hange more frustrated at the recent developments. Hange pushed aside her chair and grabbed her bag more roughly than she had intended. She actually felt bad for Moblit who had jumped at her movements.

She peeked at her phone. Ten minutes before class is over. “Just tell coach what happened.” Hange said as she walked out.

She had already exited the building and was already strategizing the fastest way to the library where she could prepare for her next class. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked back to see Moblit.

“What do you want?” Hange asked.

“Do you know why your professor made us play?”

“Are you his friend or something?” Hange gave Moblit a onceover. She did not recognize him as a classmate at all.

“I’m part of the chess team actually and we need to recruit an extra player so I asked your professor for help. He said you’d be the best one there. And you play pretty well, so you might be interested.”

“I’ve never played competitively in my life. You’re better off finding someone else.”

“I think you’re good.” Moblit paused for a moment. “Okay not good good, but good enough to hold your own against seasoned players at least. Just give the team a chance.”

“And how many times a week do you train?” Hange asked, an attempt at proving her inability to commit more than anything else.

“Four times a week.”

Hange thought back to the amount of classes she had, the research she wanted to undertake. “Would I even have time for this.”

“Athletes don’t have to take PE classes so that’s one class off your plate.” Moblit suggested weakly.

That proposition was far from weak in Hange’s eyes though.

En Prise

The chessroom was a small room hidden along the hallways that snaked through the sides of their basketball courts which connected the locker rooms to the stadium. For prestigious universities, with famous basketball teams that expected hoards of fans every season, the gyms were large enough to at least house those confusing mazes of hallways. In fact, Hange soon realized as she followed Moblit through the hallways that she would have never found it through directions alone. Someone really had to guide her through the first time.

From the entrance of the basketball court, the only way to get there was the narrow hallway that opened up from a doorway she could have mistaken for a janitor's closet.

To her surprise though, the narrow and dark hallways came with echoes of clicks and clacks. As she walked through, the clicks only got louder. Moblit did not look at all bothered by that sound. As Hange followed him into the room at the end of the hallway, she was quick to understand why.

The room was notably spacy when compared to the narrow hallway she had just gone through a while ago. To the corner of the room were four players, three boys and one girl, playing what looked like speed cheese. The source of the clicks, from their quick taps on the clock. The source of the clacks, the sound of pieces hitting the mat spread out on the table.

One particularly large clack rang out as one of the boys in the closer boards slammed his king on the board. "We're playing again!"

"You lost three games in a row already. Just stop trying to sacrifice pieces so recklessly. You're not Levi."

Levi…

"So this is our chessroom." Moblit said as he guided her in. "And this is our team."

That name was pushed to the back of her mind as Moblit brought her to the table to introduce her to every one of them. Their names went into one ear and out the other though, that one mention of Levi was fighting for control in her mind.

"You mentioned a Levi?"

"Why? You wanna play him?" The blonde answered, looking particularly annoyed at the mention of that name. "Why don’t you play one of us first?."

"Actually, I have no plans of playing---."

"In fact, I've been practicing Levi's opening lines---" The blonde ended up biting his tongue as the girl next to him pushed him away.

"Sorry for the rude introduction from Oluo over here. My name is Petra. " The girl said.

"She's our new recruit." Moblit answered.

"So you finally found a replacement." The blond man on the other side stood up and walked toward Hange. "Nice to meet you. Name's Eld."

"Wait what… replacement?"

"Gunther here can't play the season because of grades so we had Moblit try to find us a quick replacement. You have experience playing competitive chess?"

"Online?" Hange suggested.

"You got someone here with no experience playing competitive chess and her first day you bring her is when we have a simulation match with Levi. You might end up having to look for a new recruit after today." The man who had bitten his tongue a while ago looked like he had quickly recovered enough to at least laugh at Hange without wincing. "Have you at least prepared mentally to get your ass beaten by him?"

Levi… "I feel like I've gotten my ass beaten by this person you're talking about already." Hange replied. There were only so many Levis in the vicinity who play good chess right?

En Prise

Levi had a disinterested look about him which made Hange wonder what went through his head half the time. She could not help but note that that was probably why he played chess so well.

She could never tell if he was taken by surprise. When Levi entered the chess room and made eye contact with her, Hange had to focus most if not all her energy into placating that flash of recognition and softening that boiling feeling inside her. Was it anger? Or was it excitement?

Either way, it manifested as frustration at seeing the Levi's poker face. Did he recognize her?

“This is Hange Zoe. She’ll be joining our team from today.”

"You owe me money!" Hänge said, louder than she had intended. From her peripherals, she could see Petra jumping in surprise.

"I don't remember owing anyone any money." Levi replied, his tone as disinterested as his face.

"You hustled me." Hange accused.

"I don't hustle people." Levi said calmly.

"This guy is your teammate? This guy plays competitive chess? He hangs out in bars and hustles random people over chess games.” Hange challenged. “And you get this dirty guy to represent our school?

Petra looked uncomfortable. As Hange scanned their faces, she could see they all were looking for something else to focus on.

“Erwin asked me to play all of you today since he can’t make it to training.” Levi turned to Hange. “ WIll you be joining us today?” He had said it so politely and calmly yet had completely ignored her accusation only a second ago. That was enough to get Hange’s blood boiling.

“She’s our new recruit. I think it would be a good experience if she plays too.” It was Moblit who had answered for her.”

“Wait, play with this dirty man? He might steal my money again.” Hange protested.

Levi sighed. “Zoe, let’s make a deal then, if you beat me here, I’ll give you back the money you bet. How does 500 dollars sound?” So he did recognize her.

500 dollars. That was more than what she had lost for sure. “There must be some catch to this.”

Levi shrugged. “Just stop with these accusations so we don’t waste anymore time. Erwin’s gonna get angry if we don’t finish the game today.”

Hange could only watch as Levi and the other players pulled out a long table from the side and set up chess boards and placed the chess clocks on the table.

Hange sat next to Petra. The latter grabbed the chess clock from Hange’s left side and set it up. “55 minutes with a 10 second increment”

“Everyone has to play their best opening for white. Erwin’s orders.”

“It’s not like you’re actually gonna play a bookline anyway so what’s the point.” Oluo commented.

Everyone ignored him.

Hange watched from her seat as Levi walked through all the tables. From her place she could see that Eld had moved already. What move he was playing, she could not tell. Levi quickly replied to Eld’s first move.

Beside her, Hange could see Petra had played her queen’s pawn forward.

“You have more than enough of an advantage to beat me Zoe. I’m playing five people and you have nothing to lose.” Levi said as he arrived in front of Hange’s board. “Make your move.”

Hange pushed her king’s pawn forward.

Levi stared for a second and raised one eyebrow. A disinterested and judgemental look plastered on his face. Hange could not help but doubt her opening. Is there something wrong with e4?

Levi replied with b5, the pawn in front of his knight. Hange had never seen that in her life but what she managed to a see a few seconds later was the clear line from bishop to pawn.

She could take it and develop her bishop at the same time. She had read it before. Focus on developing pieces at the opening stages.

Was the pawn free though? One thing Hange had learned from losing to Levi multiple times though was that Levi could easily turn a piece down position into an attack for himself.

“Hurry up and move Zoe. You’re the only one still in the opening.” Hange jumped to see Levi standing in front of her.

Hange looked to her clock. 30 minutes. She’d been thinking for at least 30 minutes. Or at least trying to think. Her mind was still blank.

“Do you still want your money back?”

That was the provocation Hange needed. She took the pawn with her bishop.

Levi quickly replied by placing his bishop on the square where the pawn was only a second ago.

The clock was ticking for Hange again. Develop your pieces. Hange played Nc3, a normal developing move to defend the pawn. Levi quickly played f5. The past few moves Levi had not left her board and as Hange looked to the others, she could see they were all deep into middlegame positions.

She looked back at the position in front of her. Another free pawn.

“Don’t you have other boards to play?”

“One less board to play if I finish one now.”

Hange took the pawn on f5.

“I’ll teach you how to win a game a rook up.” It took Hange a few minutes to notice it. After Levi had moved his bishop to the take the pawn on her right wing, at the same time threatening to take the rook, he walked away, leaving Hange with the problem of how to save a trapped rook and the futile loss that came with it. It also gave Hange enough time to reflect, to ponder on the fact that Levi had alluded to one of their games only a week ago. Levi had been down a rook for most of one game yet managed to win.

Hange developed her knight in front of the king, having completely given up on defending the rook. From then on, she had focused on simple development. That was what Levi had done after all, when he was a rook down.

“You gave up pretty fast.” Levi commented only a few moves later.

“I’m still playing.” Hange said. The pieces were all set up but Levi was a clear rook up. From then on, Levi had not left her table in the simulation match. Levi’s material advantage only increasing from that point. The same pattern, it was definitely not as slow as it had been back in the bar when Hange was always a piece up. The advancement of Levi’s forces on the board were rapid

She found herself spending a few seconds looking at the board of Petra to see the material advantage was equal.

She couldn’t even do that much. Hange found herself playing faster and faster. It could have been from frustration or from the desire to have that humiliation end. Levi only entertained that in her as he matched her speed.

“It’s good manners to resign when you’re losing Zoe.”

Hange did not even have time to organize her forces. A black knight had planted itself in the middle of the board and the black queen was staring down at her uncastled white king.

Hange did not need to look up to feel it. Everyone’s eyes were on her and Hange chose to wait. Eventually, Levi walked away from the board and she could hear the clack and the click as he moved the pieces and pressed the clock. Then more footsteps then the clack and the click again.

Levi never did go back to her board. He didn’t need too. Hange only had to look at the clock next to her to know the game would be over soon.

“Resign.” It was Petra who resigned soon after her clock hit zero. Oluo resigned a few minutes after.

When Hange finally looked up, she could see Moblit, Oluo and Petra gathered around the board between Eld and Levi. Eld had his hands to his head while Levi just stood waiting, looking as disinterested and uninvested as he always did.

From her angle, she could not see what had happened on the board, but as she heard the sound of a piece slamming into the board, soon followed by Eld standing up, she knew it was over. Levi had beaten all of them in a sweep.

“It’s getting late.”

Petra and Oluo had gathered up their pieces into the middle of the chess mats while Moblit and Eld

“Just keep a record of your games. Erwin will look through them.”

“Record?” Hange only noticed then, that there papers on top of the board as well.

“I forgot to tell you... I’m sure Erwin won’t mind if you didn’t have one, it’s your first day after all.” Moblit said, his tone apologetic.

“I’ll help her replay the game. You three can go ahead.”

Soon, it was just the two of them in the room.

“Do you even know how to record games?”

“I learned in PE class but it gets confusing.”

“I’ll write it down for you to save you time.” Levi said as he set up a board in front of her. He soon replayed the game one by one, pausing to write on the board every few moves, not even bothering to ask her if he had recalled it correctly.

He had set up on the board the moment his bishop took her rook. He replayed her next move when she had developed the knight in front of her king, making sure to tap the piece multiple times on the board before writing it down. The face he made as he did that, only clued Hange in to the fact that it was probably the wrong move. “You gave up too easily.” Levi commented

“I was a rook down.”

“If we switched boards I could have won this position.” Levi said as he continued to play quickly through it. He stopped at one familiar position, having opened a clear path for the knight to plant itself on the middle of the board. “The game is already lost at this point. There’s no need to analyze it.” Levi explained. He wrote out the last few moves on the paper, not bothering to play them out.

“You didn’t need to point it out.” Hange said as she watched Levi push the pieces towards the middle of the board. “Thank you for doing it though.” The words were difficult to say. Hange only found the strength to say it as Levi returned the board to the box on the side of the room.

“It just bothers me. For someone who is so willing to play ten games in a row, you give up too easily on the board.” Levi shrugged. “At least, I got some money out of it.”

“So you admit you were hustling me.”

“You were winning in all your games. You just managed to fuck up in the middle and lost some money, that’s all there is to it.”

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hange

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blackwaxidol · 4 years ago

Note

Whats Drone's relationships like w other people? She sounds very unemotional and you said she has frontal lobe damage? How does it effect her life? (You don't have to answer any of these I was just curious)

under the cut because this became a scatterbrained tangent very quickly and i don't remember if i answered every question concisely or not

Drone's inability to express emotions properly makes her a little frightening to some guardians but in truth she simply cannot identify what exactly she is feeling. she finds it difficult to recall memories whilst actively doing something, so she might stop in place as she remembers pertinent information.

she experiences a machine-bastardisation of walking corpse syndrome. moments will pass where she is suddenly, biblically convinced that she is dead and "still down there with the others". it can be difficult to look into the mirror and immediately recognise who or what she is.

it is not too difficult to make her laugh, or happy, but people do not understand this well enough to attempt it. her laughter is strange and modulated but it is pleasant to hear. she is always thinking and contemplating ideas, but does not always know how to share this except in frenzied bursts of activity where she might write something down and not share it with anyone. she learns by mimicry, and it helps improve her motor skills in a way simple field operations do not. her hobbies form from spontaneous ideas or from seeing something interesting.

in terms of relationships, she can be frustrating to get to know. she is skittish, but making a friend is a nice feeling to her, even if she is unsure of how to navigate this new connection. drone is best amongst people she knows well, such as Valin or Rook. she feels a sense of love for them she does not comprehend well. it is easier with Valin, he has the patience of a man who has lived for thousands of years. drone cannot always find the words she needs but instead quietly expresses her love through physical action and gifts. it takes prompting, but she can certainly talk about what is on her mind. mostly as late night conversation, she is something of a night owl. the presence of night makes her more confident in a very Hunter fashion. watching the sky turn dark blue is almost invigorating to her, and that is when she will talk freely. i suppose in this sense she can be selectively mute.

she enjoys things like beautiful neon lights and the lighting of an aquarium contrasting against a dark room. leaving the blinds open at night so the lights of the city bleed into the bedroom is something that she loves very much. it's never fully dark in her apartment and she is fine with it. she loves the way the moonlight glows on Valin's skin, the way his eyes glow so brightly in the semi-darkness of the room, the soft patterns of Light that define his figure even in impossible pitch black. she has some simple tastes too i suppose, she likes the acrid taste of whiskey and she likes sex. she is truly comfortable with Valin and to someone who does not understand her it is incomprehensible to see how she would know to love someone. but she does.

#oc: drone #answered #apologies if these are not the answers you wanted #but i like to talk about my ocs very much #long post

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aratilightwood · 5 years ago

Text

Old ghosts of years past.

Little Mina has a surprise guest and Kit’s worried.

Set: 31st October 2015.

...

Kit Herondale was wide awake when he heard murmurs drifting down the hallway, from his little sister’s bedroom.

He should’ve been sleeping.

After training nearly every day, for at least six hours, it surprised him that he hadn’t become accustomed to his new lifestyle.

A lifestyle that was only fit for a Shadowhunter.

It had been a long day.

It was a holiday that was dedicated in remembrance of the dead, as well as, marking the celebration of ghouls, goblins and anything that went bump in the night. Mundane children ran around the neighbourhood in costumes and knocked on strangers’ doors for candy.

Kit remembered Halloween as it had been when he lived with his father. His school friends often insisted on going ‘trick-or-treating’ when he was young, but Johnny Rook always refused to allow his son the freedom of enjoying the day.

It was common knowledge that some Downworlders, particularly faeries, used the day to their advantage. They disguised themselves as children wearing fancy dress to deceive mundanes, and demanded something more valuable than sweets.

Kit wasn’t aware of it at the time, but he soon realised the most precious thing Rook hid from the outside world was him, and the faeries that instilled such cautiousness were the Riders of Mannan.

It’d been three years since the battle in Idris, and still the memory of the confrontation haunted him.

Yes, they were killed.

But there would be others, intrigued by his true lineage and determined to exploit the mysterious magic surrounding him because of his relation to the First Heir.

Now, he tried willing himself to slumber so he could wake up early. Jem had planned a hike for them across Dartmoor National Park the following day.

Tessa and Mina had made egg mayonnaise sandwiches, before placing them inside two backpacks with drinks. His sister was insistent on making the food herself, nevertheless Tessa stood beside her daughter to ensure no eggshells fell into the mixture.

Kit even laid the clothes he was going to wear on an armchair beside his bed, the night before.

It was the largest park within miles of Devon, and the more he thought about the long trek ahead, the more he curled under his covers and buried his face into pillows.

He wanted rest.

He needed rest.

But Wilhelmina Carstairs was unwilling to cooperate.

It hadn’t been the first time she kept him awake during late hours of the evening.

Their bedrooms were located on opposite ends of a hallway, but there was no mistaking she hadn’t slept either.

She was, no doubt, talking to her ‘friends.’

Kit often dismissed this as a, ‘child’s imagination.’

But Jem and Tessa had been sceptical, considering these ‘imaginary friends’ were occasionally described wearing period clothing dating back more than one hundred years ago.

Annoyed with his unrest, he tried covering his ears to drown out her incessant giggling by placing the duvet over his entire body.

Min Min, please let me sleep, he thought.

When sleep hadn’t come, Kit sighed with frustration. He sat up with a flinch when his feet landed on the cold floorboards and rubbed the weariness from his eyes.

The t-shirt he wore had been crinkled after hours of continuous pivoting, from one side of the bed to the other.

Jem had bought it for him two weeks before, claiming the store manager said it was a superhero’s symbol and Kit loved Marvel.

It was only after he unpacked it, when Kit realised the red colour and ‘W’ came from a D.C comics heroine called, Wonder Woman, instead.

He wasn’t fussed.

To spare Jem’s feelings, he said he loved his new t-shirt and would wear it paired with comfortable black joggers.

He stood up then and walked barefoot, across the room and turned the doorknob to step outside.

The hallway was dark and still entailed some elements of the Edwardian era. Century’s old wallpaper adorned the interior, a few portraits of an old Shadowhunter family were attached to the walls while sconces hung low and emanated witchlight instead or fire from a candle.

They’d contemplated redecorating when they first moved in, however Jem claimed it wouldn’t have felt like home.

The grandness of Cirenworth Hall often reminded Kit of the fictional Hogwarts castle.

When he first made this remark, Tessa replied with, “Read those books.”

To which he responded, “Saw those movies.”

Jem, as always, contributed in the only way he could with, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Now the closer he walked towards Mina’s bedroom, the louder the voices inside became.

Her door was painted white and it was opened slightly ajar.

The room was mostly dark, and only the moon emanated brightness from outside the large window. It cast a ray of light down on the bed, as if to present the little girl sitting on top of it in the most theatrical manner.

Mina was dressed is a cream onesie she wore on most days because of the bitter Autumn weather. Her hair was loose and ruffled, reaching just below her shoulders as she swept it aside to prevent it from obscuring her vision. It was like she was performing on stage, waiting for a playwright to give her next lines.

But sitting on the edge of the bed was a figure of a man - a ghost of a man.

They were immersed in their conversation, so much so, they failed to notice the boy peaking in through the door.

Kit felt overwhelmed with protectiveness and prepared to walk inside to cast the phantom away, until he began to identify the mysterious guest.

The man appeared to be around his age, seventeen or eighteen. He was wearing a clean Victorian suit, white in colour. A tribute to those who were mourning amongst the Nephilim. It contrasted with his black hair that tangled in untameable curls.

Kit remembered another day, standing on the imperishable fields beside a boy in similar clothes and features that took his breath away, before he boggled and shook his head to chide himself.

Memories served one no good, especially if they were painful. Kit trained himself expertly over the years to leave his past behind, by locking such thoughts away in the furthest recesses of his brain.

Focusing on the situation at hand, he began recognising the voice of the phantom, as it spoke in warm and friendly tones.

Will Herondale of course, Kit thought. This is the same bastard who kept me awake the other night, singing about something ghastly called, ‘Demon pox.’

Only when Kit had asked whether Will’s own death was caused by the disease, did the ghost disappear with a shriek of outrage vowing to return and haunt him for all eternity.

“So, can you go anywhere in the world? Anywhere you like?” Mina piped up, capturing his attention.

“I suppose I can - ghosts don’t get tired of travelling,” Will replied.

“Shadowhunters get tired. Dad wants to take Kit out for a long walk tomorrow. But he doesn’t want to go.”

“That’s because he’s a lazy sloth.”

“I like sloths. They’re cute. Like Sid in ‘Ice Age.’”

“What’s that?”

“‘Ice age’ - it’s a movie. A great movie. Do you want to watch it?”

“Maybe another time,” Will said with a smile.

“Of course if we go downstairs, we’ll wake everyone up!” Mina giggled mischievously.

“That wouldn’t be a good idea. I got you into trouble last time.”

Kit remembered.

A few weeks ago, Mina had woken in the middle of the night, and made her way to the library. She opened a famous book called, ‘Alice in Wonderland,’ and began reading it out loud. No one would’ve woken up, if her hand hadn’t clumsily upset a bookend that was holding a row of tomes on the windowsill. When the heavy books fell and toppled onto the floor with large thumps, the entire household woke up.

Tessa had walked hastily out of her bedroom with Jem on tow, both in pyjamas, as Kit came out of his room calmly to assess the situation.

They had stood in the hallway looking at each other’s bewildered faces, when realisation hit them.

“Mina,” they’d said in unison, before running towards the library.

When they entered it, they were met with an innocent looking girl curled up on a bench, looking guiltily down at the mess she created.

Only Kit saw a glimpse of a transparent figure vanishing into the darkness, leaving him horrified yet curious.

Tessa had been firm with Mina, but Jem couldn’t remain angry with his daughter for very long.

When it was evident little damage was done, Kit was instructed to pick the books up while the rest of them returned to bed, much to his dismay.

Mina had stuck a tongue out to him cheekily while he pulled a face before they left the room.

“I remember! That book was great,” Mina exclaimed, drawing Kit away from his thoughts.

“What? ‘Alice in wonderland?’” Will questioned. “It’s a classic.”

“What’s your favourite snack?”

“Caramel apples.”

Kit snorted.

Mina scrunched her nose with distaste, “that’s too sticky and messy.”

“What do you prefer, then?”

“Candy floss!”

“Like the time when your parents took you to the funfair? You got a big sugar rush, became overexcited and wouldn’t settle down all night.”

“You were there? I didn’t see you!”

“Of course I was. I can choose when I can and cannot be seen.”

“Can you see other ghosts?”

“I’ve seen your aunty Jessamine.”

Jessamine? Kit thought. The ghost from the London Institute?

“Jessie! She comes to visit me sometimes,” Mina said happily.

“I bet she takes good care of you.”

“She does! Do you see others?”

“Most of the people I’ve known have found peace.”

There was an awkward silence.

“Who do you love most in the world?” Mina asked to lighten the mood.

There was a pause and Kit listened more intently.

“Two people. Two of the best people I have ever known.”

“Do I know them?”

“Would you believe me if I said you’re closer to them, than you could ever imagine?”

Mina gave it a long thought.

“Is one of them Kit?”

At that, Will laughed out loud and Kit pretended to gag.

“I think you’ll be able to figure it out when you’re older.”

With that, Kit retreated to his own bedroom for his long-awaited rest.

One day, Mina would understand.

Her parents would eventually tell her exciting stories of the war against automatons, the great demon invasion and the endarkened. But most importantly, they would talk of the epic and beautiful relationship they shared with one man they, too, loved most in the world.

Just not tonight.

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naromoreau · 6 years ago

Text

Blind Date

Thank you so much to my amazing friend @outranks for betaing this and encourage me in every step to write this. Also a big thanks to the lovely @starsandskies for giving me her insight of John which I greatly appreciate. _________________________ Pairing: Rook (Not a Deputy yet) x John Seed Rating: SFW, no warnings. Pre-Game events

To abandon her old life was the hardest decision she'd taken knowing fully well it was the only way to get out of that shroud of toxicity. David had sworn with words that had punched her in the gut, not to leave her alone until she'd finally forgive him, something Rook knew was not gonna happen in the next month. Year. Hell, probably never. It wasn't as much the act as the treason, the lies and deceit that now felt like venom sluicing down her throat. It was wrath and it was consuming. It shouldn't hurt like this, she was better off, yet head tripped over heart 99 times out of 100.

Not knowing where to go, calling Kim had seemed a brilliant idea. Much to her chagrin they hadn't seen each other in a long time, despite have been partners in crime in school, and pretty much sharing the tiniest detail about each other’s life once they were away. Those phone bills had been sky up high. Even after she married Nick, who was everything Rook could’ve asked for Kim, they were still as thick as thieves.

So, in seconds Mrs. Rye had had everything decided, coaxing Rook to move back to Montana where they’d be waiting for her. It sounded like the perfect set up. Away from the constant hubbub and chaos New Jersey was.

Her old Chevy roared up the highway, as the corn fields passed in a blur. It’d been a hell of a long trip but somewhere between the sight of the far away mountains and the mauve streaks of the sky, Rook felt a bit more at ease. She spotted the sign of Fall’s End at the distance and decided to drop by the closest grocery shop to buy the stuff she needed to prepare her killer spaghetti bolognesa to thank Kim and Nick to allow her to stay with them. Her mouth watered at the thought.

The car skid to stop just outside the only visible store Rook could find. The place was small, crammed with supplies and the man in charge was attentive and polite. She glanced around. There was just another person aside her, who now fidgeted with something standing next to a pile of toilet paper. Rook looked at him as she passed by and her brows arched. He was definitely the most handsome man she'd seen. Just a little taller than her, trim and lush beard and brown hair slicked back. When he tipped his head up, a breath caught in her throat. Blue eyes clear as country sky stared back at her, icy hue making her words stutter in her mind.

The corner of his lip quirked slightly in a smile that she decoded as a form of remote acknowledgement of her presence, so she nodded and made an stately retreat.

Right. Pasta.

It was ridiculous. The way her knees trembled a little when she finally seized the pasta and the tomatoes. She didn't know the man. For all Rook knew he could be married, engaged, or plainly not into her. And really. She was just tangling her thoughts when the reality was they were nobodies to each other.

Rook sighed.

The only thing left to pick was the parmesan. Memories of her mom's recipe huddled in her mind once she stood in front of the cheeses and picked the one she remembered.

"You don't want that, darling, it's nearly… inedible."

It was that man. His voice was sinfully sweet, a tinge of pleased satisfaction falling thick from his tongue.

"Excuse me?"

The fact that he just called her 'darling' before insulting her childhood memories, kicked her sudden infatuation to the back of her mind.

"That… cheese you just picked-- it's definitely heinous, a crime to use it in a good bolognese," he said, looking inquisitively at the ingredients she carried clutched to her chest. "This one on the other hand…" A tattooed hand offered her a different one, as she watched a smug grin come alive on his face.

"Thanks. But I think I'll go with this one."

A wave of annoyance was starting to shatter her polite smile, as she sidestepped him, walking to the check out.

"Suit yourself, dear."

Rook knew it was far better to ignore the taunt, but again, she wasn’t known for being the smart type. “Are you a professional cheff perhaps?”

The man just laughed. A short, sharp sound that made a shudder wrack her spine despite her best efforts. “I’m a lawyer.”

Huh. “Ah, well, yeah-- thanks.”

“I’m not wrong, dear.”

She clenched her jaw, waving a goodbye as his final words brushed her on her way to the register.

She was about to leave the store, when the same honeyed voice greeted her from the store’s TV.

"The salvation is within your reach, join us at Eden’s Gate--"

‘Lawyer my ass’. The man was a fucking preacher.

“Fucking televangelist.”

Apparently you couldn’t trust people in this town.

___________________

Hope County was as idyllic as a bucolic painting but far more interesting. Her life in Rye's household was proving to be oddly cheerful even if half the time Rook was forced into the pleasant inaction of a well-tended guest. The grey dawns creeped one after the other and slowly, slowly, she started regaining a little of her previous balance. Thick amounts of anger, heavy as tar, fizzled out with every day she spent trudging across golden barley fields.

That was, whenever Kim and Nick had to go to business in town, leaving her on her own. Otherwise, Rook was always hedged by activities ranging from helping Kim to administer the property, to assist Nick with never ending tuning and 'reparations' of his plane. Which Rook suspected had a bit more mileage than was safe, not that she would’ve voiced that thought in front of its owner. The man was head over heels for Carmina, the seaplane.

"Pass me the torque wrench, Rookie.”

Rook heard Nick’s huff from beneath one side of the plane, where he was bent trying to determine the source of the jarring sound of metal scratching metal everytime he turned on the engine.

She fumbled in the tool box until it produced what she was looking for. "Here."

"It was just routine crop-dusting," he mumbled more to himself than Rook, "dunno what coulda got wrong."

"Bet you'll figure it out soon enough."

"I'm fuckin' counting on it, tell you that-- A friend and I go on testing flies on the weekends, y'know?"

"More like dick measurement contests, but with planes, you mean." Kim chided in carrying a tray of sandwiches and three beers.

Nick almost jumped on the spot, hitting his head with the open door of the plane. "It ain't like that, Kimmie, you know that."

"Yeah, right." Kim rolled her eyes an sipped her beer, an amused smile tugging her lips.

"John's a good guy," Nick said.

"Who’s John?" Truth was that Rook wasn't as interested as to actually want to know, but she didn't want to seem rude, after how amazing they'd been with her. Asking didn't cost anything.

"A guy who moved here 'bout couple years ago," Nick said, "nice guy but keeps pretty much to himself except for--"

"The dick measurement contests," Rook and Kim offered in unison with devilish twin grins, the words a slap on Nick's face.

"Very funny you two," Nick groused.

Kim sauntered to Nick and kissed him, softly, nothing more than a chaste peck on the lips. The way Nick clung to her waist, receiving every bit of what she was giving with complete rapture, as if they hadn't kissed almost a hundred times already that day, struck Rook right in the middle of her current train of thoughts. Even in their best moments, David had never been like that, had never shown an ounce of the joy that reeked from Nick every time he held Kim.

He'd never loved her and now she knew it. Suddenly Rook felt ill.

"C'mon," Kim said with a dreamy smile, holding Nick's hand, "let's have some lunch."

-------------------

A month went by in a heartbeat and Rook started thinking about getting a job and settling there. Coming back to her roots, in a sense.

“I’m glad to see you smiling again, honey,” Kim said after putting in the oven the result of their hard work.

She had been trying for the last half hour to teach Rook how to make the perfect crust for an apple pie, after she ate six slices and demanded to know the magic behind it. Now they both sat at the isle, sipping two cold ones.

“Yeah, kinda hard not to in a place like this-- I mean it’s… breathtaking.”

Kim smirked. “It has its ups and downs, like every place I guess. You never meet too many new people.”

“But I mean that’s good in a way, right? You get to deepen your relationship with the ones you already know?”

It was so different from the rhythm of living in New Jersey. Always fast. A ceaseless flow of new things that after a while were always not enough. Like David. And maybe that’d been the problem.

“You thinking about that asshole, huh?”

Rook just sighed. “I mean-- maybe that was the problem, we moved in together too fast, I don’t know--”

Kim set her beer down, and placed one hand over one of her own. “No, sweetie. The guy was always an asshole, trying to pretend he wasn’t one. Knowing him more-- less, it wouldn’t have made any difference.”

Rook let out a soft, dry chuckle. She knew that, but trying to understand how all went to hell in a handbasket was helping her to realize this time, she wasn’t the failure.

“I should’ve listened to you, Kimmie.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not your signature move,” Kim said, voice tinged with amusement.

Rook laughed, the joke unspooling the frayed, worn out tension curling up inside her.

“How do you meet good people?” Rook asked, not really expecting an answer.

“I guess-- I guess it’s a matter of you know-- just knowing people.” Kim arched a brow. “Do you wanna start dating again?”

“See, I don’t know. Yes? No? I don’t--” Rook sighed. “I just wanna know people, like you said, and maybe then-- who knows.”

Kim nodded along her stuttered monologue, her eyes glinting with what Rook identified as a sudden idea. She knew Kim’s ideas were to be feared or celebrated. “What about John?”

“Who’s John?” It took Rook point-three seconds to realize who Kim was talking about. “Nick’s weird plane friend?”

“He’s not weird and he’s a good man.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that. I mean--”

“He’s really good looking,” Kim said, pointedly.

“So you think I can be convinced with the promise of a pretty face, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Seriously, Kimmie, you think so little of me,” Rook said with faux offense, sporting a half-grin. She wasn’t totally opposed to the idea and she trusted Kim above all. Maybe this could be a good onset, and it didn't matter if things went sideways or if the guy ended up being a self absorbed prick that just took a swim in a barrel of cologne: it was a step in the right direction. “Fine, but make sure he’s into this too. I don’t wanna spend time with a guy who feels I ambushed him.”

“No worries, honey. I’ll take care of everything.”

__________________________________

She admired the view in the mirror for a few long seconds, trying to convince herself it was not such a bad idea. Rook had never considered herself beautiful, but she was pleased by her reflection. The plain navy blue dress she'd packed almost without thinking, seemed fitting yet comfortable which was exactly what Rook wanted. She didn't want him to think she was trying too hard, especially if he wasn't going to return the favor. The silky fabric caressed her fingers as she glided them over the skirt, trying to fix any visible creasings. The nervous squirming in her stomach intensified as she went down the stairs, to meet the Ryes.

"Ain't you a sight for sore eyes, honey," Kim chirped, with a big grin on her face.

Rook tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear, painfully conscious of her own blushing. "You think so?"

"Bet your money on it." Kim gave her a reassuring smile, before holding her hands. "Nick's gonna take you there-- John insisted you two should have dinner at his ranch which I think is nice, 'cause the Spread Eagle is good and Old Gary is a nice guy but the place isn't suited for a proper date."

Rook quirked a brow. "He has a ranch?"

"Yeah, I think you'll like it."

This was it. The physical display showing she was kicking her past to the curb, ready to start anew. Rook blew air hard, shaking her head and her carefully combed curls.

"It'll be fine, honey, and you can always call either me or Nick if you want an early pick up for whatever reason, m'kay?"

Rook nodded before hugging Kim.

"Thanks, Kimmie-- for everything."

Kim's eyes glinted, smiling warmly. "Go have fun."

-----------------------------------

Rook shivered when a current of wind blew up, her dress whipped around her body by it. The night sizzled with warmth, suiting for the end of July, yet Rook clutched her arms as if it was freezing before stepping through the threshold of the house.

The door had been left open, a clear statement of how peaceful and quiet this side of the County was or of how much John trusted his neighbours. She could feel her heart drumming under every inch of skin, from her toes up to her temples. Her eyes swiveled down to the perfectly set table at the side of the great living room, and she let out a small gasp of surprise. It was definitely far more intimate than any scenario she'd expected.

The room was dimly lit and she almost missed the man standing next to the fireplace with his back turned.

When she took a step forward, the click of her heels against the floor seemed to snap him out of his silence and he swirled to face her.

Oh. Oh no.

"Ah, Rook, it's such a pleasure--"

The words were cut in a dry halt, while a glaze of confusion set on his face. Apparently he was as dumbstruck as she was.

Rook was trying her best to not let her jaw hit the floor, because "plane John" was the "parmesan guy", as she referred to him in the abridged version she'd given to Kim. In Rook's book the guy was a total jerk and a liar. Definitely not someone she wanted to spend the evening with.

He recovered quicker than her. "I didn’t know you were staying with the Ryes," he said with a saccharine voice.

"There was no reason for you to know it,” she said with her chin held high. "I'm sorry-- this was a mistake--"

"On the contrary, my dear," he said, taking a few steps in her direction, his eyes drinking in the sight of her, "I believe this is a very right encounter."

Rook gulped despite herself. He had no damn right to be this handsome: perfectly tailored black trousers and white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he could've passed for a model if he wanted to. She bit her lip to cut the spell.

"You lied to me," Rook blurted out. 'And insulted my choice of cheese,' she wanted to add but it didn't seem like a proper claim.

His brow creased. "I beg your pardon?"

"You told me you were a lawyer but I saw you on that televangelical infomercial."

She didn’t know what she was expecting but it certainly wasn't him huffing a laugh. "So you jumped to the conclusion I should've been lying because lawyers aren't men of God?"

Rook wasn't feeling as confident in her assertion as a minute ago, nevertheless, she retaliated. "Actually the opposite, I think."

John finally broke in an honest, clear, ringing laugh that was as annoying as it was enticing. What a contradiction this man was.

"Well, normally you'd be right, but it does happen that I am both," he said, walking to the table and reaching a hand in her direction. "I can tell you all about it if you stay with me for dinner."

Rook weighed the options in speed mode and agreed. After all saying no over the parmesan, would've been a whole new level of petty even for her.

She took the hand drawn in her direction and her cheeks flushed when he closed his fingers around it. It felt warm, and a little rough, and something wild fluttered in her stomach at the contact. It'd been ages since she'd felt like that, like the central focus of attention, like he was the lucky one having her there.

Her heart tumbled again when he reluctantly let go of her hand to pull the chair for her. A small gesture done with the ease of something that came natural, not just for show.

"Thank you," she said.

He nodded and flashed another dashing smirk in her direction. Thank God she was sitting because by now her knees were jello, courtesy of those striking blue eyes.

"I have to say I wasn't expecting my date to be the beautiful stranger I met a month ago," he said in a frank tone, sitting at her side. "I often wondered if you were still around."

Rook almost let out a goofy giggle. She shouldn't have let it rattle her that much but the fact that he called her beautiful, aside from making wonders for her ego still hurt by the betrayal, in that matter of factly tone, just brushed aside some of her doubts about him.

"Do you say the same to all your dates?" She quipped.

By some magic trick her question made his composed manners crack a little. A light blush spread over his nose and cheeks. "I haven't had a date in years if I have to be honest."

For the first time that night, she smiled at him. "Then we're in the same boat."

"Better to say, the same plane," he said serving her a slice of a handmade lasagna, the smell making her stomach rumble of hunger.

"I bet you are as head over heels with your plane as Nick is with his," she scoffed.

"Not true, darling," he said, "as much as I like Affirmation, my plane that is, things are just meanings to an end." He leveled his gaze with hers, almost breathtaking under the candlelights. "I reserve love just for people."

Rook shuddered under his veiled words and for a moment found herself wondering how would it be to be loved by him. It was silly, and utterly naïve. She was floundering in spirals of ifs when the truth was he was only being polite and she was being delusional.

"Shall we?" She asked gesturing to her plate, swallowing her inconvenient thoughts.

John's eyes lingered for a few seconds on her, his mouth quirked in a smirk. "Of course."

-------------

By the end of the meal Rook had learned everything there was to know about John Seed the lawyer and PR of Eden's Gate Project.

She wasn't a woman of faith, considering herself mostly a respectful audience rather than willing participant but John had been so convincing she'd agreed to join him for the Sunday service next week.

A pang of regret assaulted her for thinking bad of him for so long when in all honesty he seemed a good person, if well, a bit overeager about his beliefs, culinary and religious alike. The whole night had left her under the impression than despite his candor on the questions she asked, there were a lot of things unsaid especially surrounding his upbringing.

She knew he had siblings, part of Eden’s Gate as well, and that his whole life now revolted around it. He seemed too perfect to be truth and when the night was over, she found herself wanting this wasn't just a one time thing.

"I had a really great time," she said taking her phone out of her purse to check the time and dial for Kim.

"It was a pleasure-- no, a delight, to have you with me tonight and I hope is not a bold assumption to think this was not a one time only thing-- or am I wrong?"

Rook's heart pounded heavily in her chest. "No, you’re not," she said with a soft smile.

This man was certainly in his own league. When her eyes finally fell to her lockscreen, she bit back a scream. It was 2:00 a.m.

Probably seeing the distress on her face, John leaned forward, a hand placed over hers. "Is something wrong? "

"It's-- it's 2:00 in the morning!" she yelped, "I can't -- damn, I can't call Kim right now, it'd be so rude."

He huffed a short laugh. "Don't worry, darling. I'll take you there."

He stood up, offering her a hand that she took quickly, thinking about how inconsiderate she'd been with the Ryes. At least she had her own key.

"Thank you, so much, I don't -- I don't wanna bother you though, it's quite far."

"Nonsenses, my dear. It's my pleasure."

She hadn't realized he was still holding her hand, when he stopped right at the threshold of the house.

"I know--" He chuckled, and cleared his throat, clearly nervous, and Rook's knees bucked at his proximity, "I know I have no right asking this of you, but-- may I kiss you, Rook?"

There was a slight waver in his otherwise confident request, Rook found endearing. She would've been lying if she said she hadn't toyed with the idea more and more as the night progressed, imagining the scrape of his beard over her chin, the hard press of his mouth over hers--

"I'd very much like that," Rook answered, thanking her stars she wasn't croaking out of pure nervousness.

She felt her cheeks burning as he closed the distance between them, painfully slow, blue eyes delving into hers as if to pry into her soul.

His hand slid up, thumbing at her jaw, fingers resting against her neck, warm and gentle. Rook's heart galloped when he leaned in, not diverting her eyes from those magnetizing blues. Her breath came in shallow exhales when finally his lips brushed hers, soft and slightly damp. Tentatively first, shy eagerness that untethered with every second passed.

Rook closed her eyes, taking in the sensations, flitting and stark, careening through her. Kissing someone hadn't felt like this in a long time if not ever. A kiss capable of send jolts of pure exhilaration and new-formed vertigo to the farest corner of her being. She could feel every inch of his chest pressed to hers, warm and solid, his tongue sliding along the seams of her mouth, and every movement drove her further away from heartache, further away from the feeling of hollowness. So quickly, so effectively. It felt so right. And it was scary.

She broke the kiss, gauging the impact of how screwed up she was.

"Is everything alright?" John asked, lips swollen, breathing coming out in small puffs. The whole sight and the pitch of his rough voice wreaking havoc on Rook's gut.

"Perfectly." She allowed herself a genuine smile that he promptly returned, holding her hand and finally guiding her to the black SUV parked at the garage.

"Thank you for that, my dear," he said with a pitch that made her half-formed hopes, gain reality. "Now, let's take you home."

Hope County looked beautiful and daunting at night. Dark blue scattered with silver glimmer of distant stars.

Sitting at John's side Rook felt alive. She could even say she forgave David. She didn't care at all about it anymore, because if it meant coming here, and coming here meant meeting John, then it wasn't all tragedy.

Living here was going to be perfect, and she was going to seize every second of it. In that moment John turned his head to look at her and she was struck by the sheer glee waving back at her from those clear blue pools. A light squeeze of her hand as a silent reassurance.

Of what? Rook wasn't sure yet, but she was determined to find out.

#far cry 5 #far cry 5 fanfiction #john seed #deputy rook #john seed x f! deputy #pre-game events #john seed x female deputy #john seed x rook #not yet a deputy

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kiruuuuu · 6 years ago

Text

Smoke/Mute oneshot in which two nerds fall for each other. Also, as usual, part of it devolves into utter chaos :) (Rating T, fluff fluff fluff + humour, ~9k words) - written for my kindness war with @nutbrain 💖💖 Take that! I do hope you enjoy it and I hope you also know how much I adore you. Please never change 💗

Mute raises an unimpressed brow. When Sledge told him he was about to meet their ‘chemistry whiz’ who apparently matched Mute’s own penchant for anything science, he’d pictured something…

Well, not something like this. Not an aged goon too short for the t-shirt he’s wearing (yet filling out the sleeves nicely nonetheless), not someone folded onto his chair like an ape, and certainly not someone with a haircut better suited for the military than a lab. He’s an odd mix of latent energy, smug grin and laziness, and Mute immediately decides not to like this show-off.

He’s always been picky and so far it’s served him well – while other friend groups publicly fought out private issues, complained about betrayal, miscommunication, ignorance, Mute sat in his corner with his one or maybe two friends and simply watched. Focusing on his own success, he’s always fared better than if he tried to get along with those around him, and the results don’t lie: mid-20s, and he’s just been recruited into one of the world’s best special forces. He works well enough in a team and is aware his superiors can’t demand more than that, even if Aurelia expressed the wish for him to socialise more than he’s used to. Her right-hand man briefly tried to bond with Mute over their shared heritage but backed off as soon as he earned a carefully blank stare. He knows more than he lets on, Six does as well, but for now they’re leaving Mute be.

Going by his gut feeling, trusting his first impression has rarely failed him, and so he fells his judgement while the hoodie-clad thug in front of him greets him cheerfully. “How ya, nice to meet you, I’m told you can backseat engineer a tad and help me with my project. Been a right bastard recently, innit?”

Mute blinks. Self-centred, he writes on his mental list, outgoing – the horror! –, big mouth, carefree. None of the bullet points make him want to spend more time in this guy’s presence than necessary. It doesn’t help that it’s entirely unclear who or what has been a right bastard, whether it’s the project, the dude, maybe Mute himself, who knows? He sounds like one of Mute’s former classmates who dropped out to sell weed and graffiti abandoned stations at night. “Yes”, he replies hesitantly to buy time. “So… what is it you’re working on?”

In an entirely misguided attempt at getting Mute settled in at the base, Sledge has spent most of the day sending him back and forth between operators with increasingly mundane tasks which Mute identified much too late as intended conversation starters which usually resulted in two lines of awkward small talk and a task done mostly in silence. He nearly refused to step anywhere near this last SAS member but when Sledge mentioned the magical word science, Mute’s interest was piqued. Seems like this will be just another disappointment, however, because this schoolyard bully surely isn’t -

“A Lewisite derivative less prone to hydrolysis and ideally as long-lasting as Adamsite while being less identifiable. I don’t want those bloody terrorists shooting up on dimercaprol immediately to counter the effects.”

Well. Mute briefly considers whether he’s merely saying this to be funny, maybe learnt it by heart to impress a few birds in the pub, but when he spots the emblem of arsole on this guy’s jacket like the crest of a prestigious school, he realises that he’s dead serious. “You realise that’s illegal as fuck?”

This earns him a bright smile. “Yep!”

“So you want to poison a whole group of people”, Mute clarifies, just to be sure.

“Lethally poison them to death until they die”, the man confirms with an amused nod and again, it takes Mute a moment to register he’s not being facetious.

He throws a glance at the chicken scratch notes spread out on the table separating them. They look chaotic yet detailed, and most of all they look like a challenge. “What did you say your name was?”, he wants to know distractedly and almost misses the lazy grin spreading on the guy’s face.

~*~

Mute still doesn’t like him. Contrary to how often they hang out, Smoke certainly ranks nowhere near his favourite people to spend time with which might seem unfair but he’s just – annoying, really, won’t stop bragging or talking too loudly, keeps taking and using Mute’s stuff without asking and is much too handsy for his tastes. He never properly learnt personal boundaries and is forthcoming to the point of rudeness, at least in Mute’s opinion, but for some reason gets along well enough with most of the other operators. It baffles Mute how easily he navigates social situations, does so without a care in the world and, while Smoke gets yelled at often enough, he also gets what he wants a surprising amount. Mute was brought up to be reasonably polite, withdrawn, not a bother, and Smoke is… the opposite. He goes out and declares for everyone to hear, so someone is bound to listen. It’s enviable, in a way.

But no, Mute’s personal ideals resonate much more closely with Glaz’, and Twitch’s, and Rook’s, and together they form an alliance of loyalty and trust and meet up just to be themselves. It’s a relief not to worry about what comes out of his mouth and even more of a relief to realise he’s actually found friends in Rainbow. He doesn’t consider Smoke a friend, not really, more of a necessary evil which just won’t go away and so he’s developed coping mechanisms.

This, too, sounds harsh in his head. He has to admit there are moments when he genuinely enjoys Smoke’s company.

“Why are you so quiet, lad? Cat got your tongue?”

Compared to Thatcher, Smoke is an angel. As awe-inspiring and competent as the SAS legend is, he seems to take personal offence to Mute mostly keeping to himself and has set out to coax the social chameleon, the starry-eyed, hopeful young man out of Mute who’s been dreaming of being a part of the whole his entire life yet was too awkward to figure out how. Little does he know that under Mute’s taciturnity hides an even more misanthropic nerd who’d be happy surrounded by nothing but technology for the rest of his life. Not all who talk little have little to say, but not all who talk little secretly want to star in High School Musical.

“Mike, you must’ve spent the first twenty years of your life in silence”, Smoke pipes up from where he’s lounging on one of the other tables in the workshop, letting one of his legs dangle and playing a freemium game on his phone, “because with how you dither on, you sound like you’ve something to catch up on, now that you’ve one foot in the grave.”

Mute has to admit: he’s excellent nuisance repellent. He hides a grin as Thatcher’s attention shifts. “I certainly would spend twenty years in silence if it meant you’d have to shut up yourself.”

“Gladly, if it’d make you stop molesting the youngins. I saw you chase Manu around yesterday, she should really get a restriction order.”

“All I wanted was to help her calibrate her gun -”

“She’s bloody GIGN, granda, she was born with a Magnum in her tiny baby hands. And whatever you do, she’ll never calibrate your gun.”

Despite knowing Thatcher genuinely only wants to help, Mute leaves the two to their usual banter, content in not being a part of it: they both seem to enjoy their bickering and it’s best not to make himself a target. Besides, Smoke thoroughly relishes being insulted, if his and Mute’s early interactions are anything to go by. Smoke called him young, Mute replied with ‘as young as you wish you were’ and since then, he’s been a puppy following him around with a delighted expression, fawning over every harsh comment directed at him.

“Oi, babe”, Smoke addresses him and Mute wishes he’d mind the nickname, yet whenever he remembers the other ones which were in the running, he can’t. “You think Mike here hates molecules whose atoms are all in covalent bonds?”

The question comes so out of thin air that Mute needs a second to process it. “I – what? Why?”

“Because they’re unionised.”

Mute stares at him for a bit longer before it clicks – it’s Thatcher and he means the other pronunciation of unionised and dear Lord, the joke is fucking atrocious, it’s impressive how awful it is, and before he knows it, his sides start hurting. Air eludes him as he does a silent laugh which hurts and Smoke has never looked this stupidly proud before. Not even after he made Glaz throw up by shovelling vanilla pudding out of a mayonnaise glass into his own mouth.

“What”, says Thatcher, looking completely unamused. “Are you laughing at me?”

Gasping, Mute shakes his head and waves him off, and Smoke is still grinning triumphantly. “Copper carbon potassium”, he mutters and sets Mute off once more because only he would call someone who massively outranks him a cuck and hey, that gives Mute an idea. While the two continue barking at each other, he pulls up the periodic table on his phone and starts putting things together.

Seconds before the two actually come to blows – and Smoke would have the advantage, Mute has seen him in the ring and he does not mess around –, he announces: “Fluorine argon thallium iodine carbon potassium erbium.”

Watching Smoke repeat it in his head and translate it feels like waiting for a firecracker to go off, and he’s not disappointed when it does and the other man dissolves into full-bellied laughter which nearly throws him off the table.

“What does that mean?!” Thatcher is getting more and more agitated.

“He called you a fartlicker”, Smoke chortles and Mute doesn’t even get to defend himself, explain that it wasn’t at all aimed at Thatcher, before the very same rolls his eyes and simply storms off.

“I didn’t mean him”, Mute complains and crosses his arms when Smoke saunters over to plant his arse on his table instead.

“Oh, I know, but now he’ll be pissed for a week and leave you alone.”

“I’ll apologise.”

“Are you nuts? Don’t feed into his ego. Vain bastard.”

Mute scoffs. “Says you.”

And oh, the surprised face he earns is entirely warranted. He doesn’t suppose anyone looks at Smoke closely enough to notice him glancing in the mirror a lot, or that his mismatched and ill-fitting clothes are carefully chosen and that he takes pride in his appearance. He certainly makes sure his muscles show at least. “Yes, well”, Smoke murmurs, having lost the thread of their conversation and idly running his hand through his short hair. “Oh, speaking of – I should have this cut.”

“Don’t. I like your hair.”

Smoke shoots him another astonished glance and pets his semblance of a hairstyle. Mute does like it more now that it’s grown out a bit, and he bets Smoke could look cute with it even longer. “You really should stop catering to people’s egos, they might get used to it.”

“Trust me, I’ll be the first one to mercilessly argue you into the ground, should the situation call for it.” It wouldn’t be the first time either, not after Smoke claimed drinking through a straw not only made you more drunk but also faster, that alcohol is a good way to stave off the cold and that people eat five spiders in their sleep each year. At this point, he’s half suspecting Smoke of digging up misconceptions purely so he can witness Mute tearing them apart.

“Now let me check whether you can spell ‘turdsniffer’ with the periodic table.” He takes a seat next to Mute and together, they try to come up with the best insult they can. Mute is extremely happy with CoCKBaSiN, Smoke proudly presents BUMnOsEr, and by the time they land on AmErICaN SnOBScAm, both of them are having trouble breathing.

“If everything else fails, we can always call people C4H4AsH”, Smoke concludes and points at his jacket. “A good old-fashioned arsole.”

Of course. Mute is beginning to wonder whether he ever washes this particular piece of clothing. “And no one will be the wiser.”

“Except for us. Because we have such good chemistry.”

“Alright. You can stop now.”

“If we were a laser, we’d be set on stunning.”

“James.”

“Is it getting hot in here or is this just our bond forming?”

Mute corrects himself mentally: there is no way in hell this idiot could ever be cute. “Why do I even talk to you.”

“No idea”, Smoke retorts cheerily. “But I’m glad you do.”

~*~

Unsurprisingly, he needs a little help from those who know him better than he does. They’re having lunch together, Rook in his everlasting hunger went out voluntarily to buy them fancy sandwiches and is still complaining about the place being out of baguettes whereas Twitch happily wolfs down her ciabatta without a peep, and then Glaz says mid-munch: “We’re having a spa day on Sunday. Has Julien asked you already?”

“Can’t, I’m setting skips on fire”, Mute shrugs and grins at Twitch’s horrified expression. “Not literally. But we have some hypotheses to check and usually, it ends up with us burning our notes because everything went arseways.”

“Arseways”, Rook repeats quietly to himself and Mute is relieved none of them know enough about English and Irish dialects to notice just how much slang he’s picked up from Smoke along the way. He’s made the mistake of greeting Montagne with an automatic ‘how are you’ before and ended up with intimate knowledge of the man’s health-related problems.

“You can always ask Jordan for help, just mention the setting on fire part and he’s in”, Twitch suggests reasonably and for a second, Mute actually considers it. He doesn’t mind Thermite, the man is sociable enough to fill silences before they turn awkward and perceptive enough to leave Mute alone when he needs it. Still, he was looking forward to a weekend of loud music, a few drinks and greasy takeout which he allows himself so rarely, with no space for anyone else. And while his friends’ plan of just chilling probably would drain the tension out of him just as effectively, he’s not going to ditch Smoke after he already agreed.

“You’re seeing James a lot recently”, Glaz comments in between bites.

Is he? More than he used to, Mute supposes, but it’s gotten better. The bragging has diminished or stopped bothering him so much seeing as Smoke usually includes him in it these days, and they’ve found more common ground – music was a big one, ultimately there’s not much of a leap from hardcore punk to avant-garde metal seeing as they can meet somewhere in the middle, and gaming is another. Even the fact that Smoke only ever wanted to play the games in which he’s better than Mute has subsided. They compromise more, Mute realises: Smoke tests his limits less often and Mute doesn’t judge as much anymore, the verbal pushing and shoving has turned into good-natured playfighting. It’s not about who’s right, it’s about having a good time, and on the rare occasions on which they bring up serious topics, Mute doesn’t get as worked up anymore and Smoke knows when to take a break to sort his thoughts.

“I like him”, he summarises his musings with a nod.

“And I remember the time you called him a copper nitrogen terbium argon”, Rook chimes in.

“Silver. Ag is silver, not argon.”

“I will literally never be able to remember this.”

Another reason why Mute is glad to have Smoke – there are some inside jokes they share which just don’t translate to his real friend group. “He’s much more bearable these days.”

“He’s worn you down”, Twitch corrects him with a smile and he doesn’t object. “Why don’t you ask him if he wants to join? He’s nice enough and he can’t be worse than Jules.”

“Hey!”

“Sure.” Mute shoves the rest of his brie with cranberry into his mouth and gets up to track Smoke down. The words echo in his head: he’s nice enough. There’s a few descriptions he’d deem fitting for the Brit but nice isn’t one of them – above all, he’s opportunistic. If there’s nothing in it for him, he won’t do it, but fortunately ‘entertainment’ has proven to be reliable bait for him, rendering him predictable. Mute likes this. He knows what to expect, knows when Smoke will play along, and also knows he does so willingly. Smoke doesn’t mind being tricked or manipulated into something provided it’s done overtly.

When he finally stumbles over him, he’s not alone: Fuze is talking rapidly at an irritated-looking Thatcher with Smoke at his elbow, and judging by everyone’s body language, it’s a topic which should’ve been cleared a while ago. Meaning it’s about being team captains. Since Fuze can express his displeasure best in his mother tongue, he tends to seek out colleagues who know it well enough, Thatcher unfortunately being one of them – Smoke seems to be his moral support, though he appears less supportive and rather more bored to tears.

Fuze has been a thorn in Glaz’ side for a while, ever since he dropped a comment about Rook which left his younger teammate secretly shaken and uncertain, and Mute has to fight down the urge to provoke the Uzbek whenever he sees him since. He can’t stand anyone messing with his friends, especially not on a topic like this. And with Smoke standing there, hip cocked and expression unguarded, he gets an idea.

“Hi, sweetie”, he mutters quietly enough to be convincing yet loud enough for Fuze to hear and puts an arm around Smoke’s shoulders.

He might be slow on the uptake sometimes, but right now Smoke’s spontaneity triumphs. Making it look natural, his face lights up and he wraps an arm around Mute’s waist, pulling him closer and greeting him with a soft: “Hey, babe.”

Before them, the Uzbek momentarily loses his train of thought before continuing his rant.

And oh yes, if there ever was anyone perfect for this kind of stunt, it’s Smoke. He spends half his time touching Mute already anyway, fixing his clothes, fiddling with his phone (including taking it out of his pocket), feeding him usually questionable things, leaning into him out of laziness, peering over his shoulder while steadying himself on him – the list is endless and has long stopped bothering Mute though he rarely initiates contact himself. Right now, he’s very glad for this familiarity between them.

Seemingly uninterested in the proceedings, Mute pushes a hand into Smoke’s half-long hair and starts petting it. It’s as soft as its glossiness promises but if he’s honest, he wouldn’t have minded one bit if it was coarse or greasy because the face Smoke makes all of a sudden is priceless. He didn’t expect his features to go slack like this, for him to melt into this touch completely, and he has to suppress a chuckle. It seems he’s finally found an off switch. The longer he massages his scalp, runs his fingers through black hair, the more the grip around his torso loosens and the more Smoke sways in place. He looks like he’s got trouble keeping his eyes open and it’s, well, it’s endearing in an unexpected way. And Mute already knows he’ll shamelessly exploit this knowledge in the future.

Still, he hasn’t achieved his goal of pissing off Fuze enough for him to stop hissing at Thatcher, and so he pauses his ministrations to watch in amusement as Smoke returns to this plane of existence very, very slowly. He blinks, shifts his weight and presses his compact body more against Mute’s in the process, and he’s so dazed and adorable that the one thing which most likely will achieve the intended effect doesn’t even seem like such a bad idea anymore.

So Mute leans down and kisses him.

Fuze trails off mid sentence.

It was just a brief touch of lips on lips, but despite his stupefaction, Smoke possessed the presence of mind to tilt his head into it, slide his eyes shut and capture Mute’s lower lip between his own for a second and hey, that’s much better than him shoving his tongue down Mute’s throat as a joke or maybe him slobbering all over Mute because that’s kind of what he was expecting. When it’s just nice instead, he makes no move to hide his smile and straightens back up to catch Fuze’s eye innocently.

And while Smoke’s hand drops lower and starts groping Mute’s butt, the Uzbek’s expression darkens. He spits one last sentence at Thatcher and turns around on his heel to stride away with purpose.

Wordlessly, Thatcher just looks at them.

“What just happened?”, Smoke wants to know meekly, visibly overwhelmed with the situation and Mute could really get used to this.

“Fuze was being a scandium astatine tungsten holmium rhenium”, Mute explains matter-of-factly.

Thatcher shakes his head with a grin. “Little shits”, he murmurs, but to Mute’s ears it sounds grateful. He leaves them to it, still holding on to each other for some reason.

“You wanna take a spa day with us instead of vegetating in the lab this weekend?” He’s gently massaging the base of Smoke’s skull now and notices his eyelashes flutter. Cute. It’s cuter than it has any right to be.

“What, give up gaming till morning for sitting around and talking about feelings?”

Mute snorts. Is that what he thinks they do in their spare time? “I’ll pet your hair if you say yes.”

“… when are you guys meeting up?”

And he can’t help but give Smoke a quick hug while laughing before relaying the details.

~*~

“Mark.” A hand on his shoulder, him curled around a warm body, and a pleasant dream lingering – he’s not at all ready to wake up. “Mark, get up. It’s late.”

He huffs a sigh, hears it echoed from the small creature next to him and stretches before cracking open an eye. Sledge is regarding him with a fond smile, whereas Diana, pressed against him on her side, pretends to be still asleep. The living room is empty save for a myriad of bottles and glasses and oh, that means everyone’s gone already. Sledge has already changed into sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, pads around barefoot and tidies a little while Mute sits up on the couch, strokes the corgi lady’s soft fur with one hand and checks his phone with the other. u home yet?, Smoke asks and it’s just like him to remember Mute’s schedule despite being on the other side of the world.

was sharing body heat at Seamus, gonna head back now, he replies and pictures Smoke’s slightly irritated expression. While he’s never had an issue with Glaz, Twitch and Rook, Mute’s newly-developed friendship with Sledge caused frankly amusing uncertainty which surfaces either in territorial aggression or thinly-veiled jealousy. He ignores Mute’s assurances that the Scotsman has a long distance boyfriend somewhere seeing as no one has ever heard him mention him (but Mute knows the signs), and instead tries his best to keep Mute’s attention, unaware that he’s competing with Sledge’s dog more than anything, and that no one could ever surpass the small fluffball.

“How’s James?”, Sledge asks in a tone so natural that Mute wonders when it became so self-evident that he’d know about every detail in Smoke’s life.

“Bored a lot. Now that they’ve cleared out the base they’re just staying in the hopes of catching some stragglers who didn’t get the memo. Unlikely, but Six is right in saying if there’s a chance, they should take it. He’ll probably be back some time next week, or so he hopes.” It’s past three now, so no wonder everyone’s gone already. Since he lives in walking distance, Sledge probably figured he’d let him sleep off all the alcohol he consumed much too fast earlier – without Smoke around, it’s only half as fun, thus Mute drank like he was getting paid for it and must’ve passed out while cuddling with Diana.

His phone buzzes. It’s a singular question mark and Mute can’t help but grin at its passive aggressiveness. found the perfect snuggling partner, he replies and figures there’s no need to be cruel, so he attaches a photo of the corgi now rolled up into a ball.

“Want to take some of Moni’s salad with you?”

Mute perks up at that and trails after the Scotsman into the kitchen. Normally he’d have left straightaway, but he’s got nowhere to be tomorrow since Rook and Twitch want to go clothes shopping and Glaz was prescribed some quality time with the rest of his team, and Smoke is unavailable. They’ve both wrecked their sleep schedules over the past weeks due to time zones, and still there’ll be a period tomorrow when Mute won’t be able to contact him. He’s not looking forward to it. If he asked, Sledge would let him sleep over and probably entertain him the entire day, but it’d be inevitably coupled with a few stern words Mute imagines normal dads to direct at their children, and he’d rather avoid parental guidance. He’s old enough to make his own decisions now. Like taking photos of himself naked and deleting all of them a second later, because no. Just no.

“I can’t believe there’s some left over”, he states to distract himself from what he’d even do with nudes.

“There wasn’t. She set some aside for me earlier because she knew all of you would devour it.” And though Mute knows Sledge is kind and caring, he can’t help but wonder whether he’s feeding him specifically because Twitch snitched about him accidentally skipping meals. He should ask her tomorrow.

what about me?, Smoke wants to know and Mute almost hears his pout in his head. If he’s honest, it’s not even close. Diana is affectionate to a ridiculous degree and has never accidentally elbowed him in the crotch so she’s the clear winner – but he has to admit there was an evening they spent pressed against each other on Glaz’ couch which was uncomfortable until Mute stopped fighting against Smoke and simply put an arm around him to save space, and he barely caught anything happening on screen for the rest of the film because there was also a casual hand resting on his thigh -

“Do you miss him?”

Mute realises he’s been staring at his phone for entirely too long and Sledge is already done putting some of the delicious potato salad into a container for him. His cheeks start heating up but he can’t deny it, so he nods. It’s been a few excruciatingly long weeks and though Smoke’s expressive enough in texts, it’s just not the same.

“Have you told him that?”

And here we go. He rolls his eyes, snatches the salad with a muttered thanks and goes to put on his shoes. she smells better, he types out just to be a brat.

He pauses in the door when Sledge calls his name and expects him to meddle some more, already prepares his defence: Yes he knows, yes he should tell him, but what if he doesn’t reciprocate, and it’s such a commitment, and it’s been a while, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, and what if they don’t want the same thing -

But Sledge just says: “Get home safely. Good night.” He probably figures Mute knows all of which he’d like to say instead.

On the way back, his eyes are glued to the screen once more. They exchange good-natured banter, gossip a little over some of their colleagues’ work ethics, and then go back to complaining about the whole mission which currently separates them so inhumanely.

I sware tho when im back ill spend one day eating one day sleeping and one day gaming

Those are three different, consecutive days I assume?, Mute clarifies. If so, that sounds like a party I’d like to attend.

babe ill invite u to any party esp if its just us two

Mute is beaming. Smoke is probably expecting him to pick his message apart, make a crude joke about parties in his knickers, plan ahead for when he does come back or maybe even switch topics entirely, and on any other night Mute would indeed go for one of these options. But he’s still giddy with a slight buzz, remembering the dog’s warmth and wishing it was Smoke’s instead, that he instead makes an offer. Provides bait, in a way. Gives Smoke a chance.

Do you enjoy spending time with me that much?, he asks.

And though he firmly expects Smoke to laugh it off maybe or just take a while to reply, it’s nearly instant and so open it tugs at his heartstrings. yes, Smoke writes. Nothing else. Mute’s cheeks are starting to hurt. There’s no sarcasm, no dismissal, just a yes and he couldn’t have hoped for a lovelier answer.

That is, until he receives the next message and realises he was wrong, oh so wrong.

iodine lithium potassium uranium, it reads.

And while it’s not perfect and a little awkward, he couldn’t care less because today is the best day of his entire life. He actually tears up a little, scans the words over and over again and ignores their turning blurry, tries to come up with an appropriate reply – it needs to be just as honest, that much is clear, Smoke is taking a leap and Mute needs to make sure he catches him, and that’s when he runs into a lamp post.

It’s a miracle it hasn’t happened sooner, going by how little attention he paid to where he was going, but that doesn’t make it any better. He hits his head on metal, hard, clutches the valuable potato salad with one hand but drops his phone with a loud clatter and a curse. A quick glance establishes that yes, it’s actually broken, pieces having flown off, screen cracked, and still he doesn’t care.

Because Smoke likes him. Likes likes him. And looking back, it was glaringly obvious, wasn’t it? But somewhere among the countless hours they spent together, Mute had convinced himself that a friendship is all it was and that he should feel guilty for the surreptitious glances every time Smoke took off his shirt in his presence, that he shouldn’t mess with their dynamic and maybe Smoke only allowed him to touch his hair and no one else because… well, there was no good reason, now that he thinks about it. It’s remarkably long by now, Smoke hasn’t had it cut once and Mute vaguely remembers complimenting him on it. It suits him. Mute wants to bury both hands in it and hold him still while snogging him silly.

The phone is a goner. Doesn’t even turn on, so he puts it in his pocket, rubs the pounding spot on his forehead reminding him of his obliviousness, and only then realises the problem with this whole situation: he’s got confirmation from Smoke now.

But Smoke doesn’t know about his feelings. He doesn’t know Mute likes him back. And like this, he can’t tell him.

“The fuck?”, Rook slurs drowsily upon opening his door. He’s wearing pastel pyjamas with polar bears.

“I need your phone”, Mute replies, breathing hard from having run all the way. The conversation with Smoke made him go the wrong way yet once he’d oriented himself, it turned out the Frenchman’s flat was closer than anyone else’s, so he’d come here. “It’s an emergency.”

“Is anyone hurt?” He wobbles back into the apartment and emerges again carrying a potentially life-saving device.

“Only James’ pride”, Mute mutters and snatches it out of his hand. Then realises yet another problem. “This is his old number. You don’t have the new one?”

Rook looks ready to fall asleep against the door frame. “Wha? He has a new one?”

“Yeah, he dropped his phone in the sea two weeks ago. Fuck. Do you know who might have it?”

“The hell’s going on, Mark? Is he okay?”

If he wants Rook’s cooperation, he should probably tell the truth. “Yes, but he told me he liked me and I accidentally smashed my phone, so I can’t answer him. He’ll probably go to sleep soon and I don’t want him to think I’m ignoring him. I’d really like to text him. And I know it’s dumb and I probably shouldn’t have woken you up -”

“Call Timur.” Mute hesitates. “I’m serious, call him, he might have it. He won’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mark, you’ve never asked us for help in anything personal. When your jammer went arseways and you were bummed for a week, we had to forcibly drag you out of your flat. Yes, I’m sure. And I’m glad you’re here.” He still can’t bring himself to wake up more of his friends, forcing Rook to take his phone back and call Glaz himself. “Besides, you two are made for each other. Manu is gonna scream my ear off when I tell her.”

He smiles at that. “Do you want some of Moni’s potato salad as thanks?”

“No answer.” Rook hangs up, distractedly glancing at the object Mute is offering him. “Wait, did you say Moni and salad?”

A few minutes later, they’re in Rook’s car, listening to horrifically repetitive pop music and eating salad. “What about Seamus?”, the Frenchman suggests with his mouth full while Mute is busy calling next to everyone on Rook’s friends list.

“You know he’s gonna be the smuggest git. I’d rather avoid all the I-told-you-so.”

“Fair enough. Here we are.” Rook parks the car in the middle of the street and together, they knock on Glaz’ door until it swings inwards to reveal an extremely unhappy Kapkan.

“Oh shit”, says Mute. Apparently quality time implied a sleepover. He hopes they’ve only woken up one of the pack.

“There better be a huge fire somewhere”, the Russian growls.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that”, Rook begins to explain when one by one, the other Spetsnaz flock to the door to stare them down. Glaz, at the back, seems more worried than angry, but everyone else is visibly resentful.

“You know what, forget it, we’ll find someone else”, Mute tries to interject and avoids Fuze’s furious stare, but it’s too late.

“Mark needs to confess to James, but he destroyed his phone and I don’t have the new number. Do any of you have it?” There’s a certain impressive quality to watching Rook, still clad in baby blue bears and physically less imposing than literally every single one of the discontented men before him, calmly ask them for help with such a mundane issue.

As expected, Fuze basically explodes. “What!”, he yells and only narrowly gets stopped by Kapkan and Tachanka before he can lunge at Mute. “You two weren’t even -”

“Have you asked Manu?”, Glaz pipes up from the back, over the raging Uzbek’s shoulder.

“I will skin you! Fucking brats -”

“She’s not answering either, probably set her phone to silent. You think we should stop by?”

“Do you think this is funny? Ridiculing -”

“Worth a try. I’ll tag along.”

Mute ends up with Glaz on his lap in the front, while the three angry Russians occupy the back bench: Fuze is pissed over the Brits taking him for a fool just because they acted flirty whenever he was around, Kapkan is pissed that Fuze is pissed, and Tachanka is pissed over having to sit next to the other two. None of them are wearing any shoes – or shirts, for that matter –, except for Glaz, fortunately. It’s a complete mystery to Mute why they came along, but now he has to deal with aggravated Russian being thrown back and forth behind him.

“What about Seamus?”, Glaz inquires curiously and nearly falls into Rook’s lap at a particularly sharp turn.

“He’d be a smug shite and I don’t wanna deal with that.”

“Fair enough.”

Twitch is clad in pastel pyjamas with a cupcake print. She also seems understandably intimidated over being faced with six guys upon opening her door, three of which disgruntled and rearing for an actual fist fight.

“Mark needs to declare his undying love to James but blew up his phone and now none of us have his new number. Do you?”, Glaz explains the issue so badly that Mute wants to smack him.

“Why are you on their side? They were constantly provoking me!”, Fuze hisses in the background.

“Then it’s your own fucking fault for getting upset about love”, Kapkan snarls back.

Once Twitch is done literally hopping up and down with unbridled joy after having confirmed it three times, she admits: “I don’t have it, no. Didn’t he only give it to you, Mark? Have you asked Seamus?”

“We don’t wanna deal with his smartarse attitude”, Rook explains.

Twitch blinks, uncomprehending. “You can’t be serious.”

She sits perched on Mute’s lap for the drive whereas Fuze is forced to sit on Tachanka's, a fact over which he seems utterly infuriated. A small brawl happens halfway through, with Glaz trying to stay out of it as much as possible, and Tachanka threatening to open the door and dump Fuze’s crusty arse outside, and if Mute is honest, he hasn’t had this much fun in ages. It’s like free entertainment, and though worry nags at him, he knows they’ll eventually be successful.

Sledge is remarkably awake and even a little flustered, even more so when he eyes the crowd on his front lawn. “Is the world ending?”, he asks politely.

“Do you have James’ new number?”, Mute replies with another question and ignores Fuze kicking at his heels before getting dragged away and shoved around a bit by Kapkan.

“What, did you lose your phone after he confessed to you and now you can’t answer him?”

“How does he know everything?”, Rook whispers in Twitch’s direction, awestruck.

“That was a lucky guess”, Mute accuses him, because how.

Sledge pinches the bridge of his nose. “Mark, he told me a month ago that having you would make him both the happiest and the luckiest man on earth.”

Mute gapes at him. In the background, Kapkan snaps: “You hear that shit? That’s fucking cute, you numbskull, and you’re not going to rain on their parade!”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” Sledge’s deadpan tone implies that he’s thoroughly done with both of them – probably hinted heavily, with either of them dismissing him. “Come on in. I don’t have his number, but I know someone who would.”

They file into the house which doesn’t look much different to how Mute left it more than an hour ago, which is odd: the same lights are still on, meaning Sledge didn’t go to sleep, yet the mess is still there. He must’ve been doing something important if it kept him up till now.

“Mike’s known him for a while, so he’s likely to have James’ number”, Sledge announces and starts rifling through drawers. “But he turns off his phone at night and I don’t know where his stupid caravan is parked right now. I wrote it down somewhere.”

Mute spots a closed but running laptop on the coffee table. “Maybe you’ve got it saved on here”, he wonders and just as Sledge chokes out a panicked Mark no, flips it open.

And is faced with a very handsome, very hairy, and most importantly very naked guy on a webcam who seems surprised to see him.

He closes the laptop again. They could’ve heard a pin drop in the following silence.

“Well”, Sledge murmurs, “that, uh, was Adriani- Adriano.”

That answers that question. Mute’s face is burning.

“Tell him we’d like to meet him properly once he’s put some clothes on”, Tachanka speaks up cheerfully.

“Guys, I found more of Moni’s salad in the fridge”, Rook announces with his mouth full just as he enters the room, though he stops dead when all faces turn to him. “What? Did I miss something?”

For some reason, Thatcher looks the least surprised out of all of them to receive a gathering in his abode – or rather in front of it, because his moving temporary home hardly offers enough space to house eight people. It was a relief to take two cars to get here, even if Sledge seems ready to murder someone after chauffeuring three arguing Spetsnaz around.

“This puppy here wants to propose to James but since he melted his phone in the microwave, we need you to tell us exactly where he is so we can fly over”, Tachanka explains even worse than Glaz did previously and Mute just puts his head in his hands.

Thatcher scowls at them. He’s wearing pastel pyjamas with rocket ships on it. “Is this a joke?”

“Do you know James’ new number?”, Sledge takes over with a deep sigh and yanks Fuze aside the moment he tries to elbow Kapkan. Mute is no longer surprised over the fact that the Scotsman feels more like a dad to him than a friend. “I believe it’s time sensitive.”

“I don’t have it”, the old man grumbles, much to everyone’s exasperation, “but I know someone who does. Just a phone call away, come in.”

Easier said than done – one by one, they squeeze into the limited space, with Rook and Twitch climbing up to the bed and letting their feet dangle into Glaz’ field of view, while Fuze and Sledge sit down by the tiny table. The rest stands awkwardly as Thatcher rummages around aimlessly until he finally finds what he’s looking for. Namely his phone.

“That’s where you keep it?!”, Sledge wants to know, aghast. “What if there’s an emergency?”

“Well you’re all here, aren’t you.” Thatcher takes another two minutes to turn it on and by then, Mute has lost all patience.

“Let me do it”, he offers politely and adds silently: for the love of Christ. “Who am I calling?”

“Tze Long. He’s an old friend from Hong Kong, James and I know him from years ago. He’ll know.”

He vaguely remembers hearing the name before, so he navigates to contacts, tries not to look too hard at the notes Thatcher has added to a few of them, like Brunsmeier (public nuisance) and Cowden (good lad) until he lands on Nizan (hide all food). It takes him a few seconds to regain his composure but then he’s finally spotted the name Thatcher mentioned and presses the green button. He doesn’t have to wait long, seeing as it’s currently morning in Asia, but he was not at all prepared for the booming greeting nearly shattering his eardrum.

“Morning, honey, having trouble sleeping again? Want me to read you another bedtime story, hm?”

And though Mute has never met this man in his life, the sultry tone makes it painfully clear there’s absolutely nothing innocent about his offer. Even worse: since Thatcher set his phone’s volume to eleven, literally everyone in the cramped room heard.

Mute has to correct himself: today is one of the worse days of his life.

“Give me that”, Thatcher hisses and snatches the phone out of Mute’s hand. “Listen, I have visitors.”

Since he failed to lower the volume, all present continue to hear both sides of the conversation, whether they want to or not. “Wonderful! I’ve been telling you to get out more, dearie, have more social contact or you’ll end up a bitter old fart.”

“That means you need to behave.”

“I always behave. You know me. I’m extremely obedient.”

The two Frenchies on the bed are shaking with silent laughter whereas Thatcher is getting redder by the second. “All we need is James’ number. Do you have it? We have a youngin here who wants to marry him.”

“Just confess, actually”, Mute chimes in but gets ignored.

“Oh my. Yes, I have it. Do you have something to write?” Sledge holds up his phone with the notes app open as confirmation, and what follows are the longest five minutes of Mute’s life because Thatcher insists on being dictated one digit at a time, repeats it even though everyone can hear the man on the other end of the line clear as day, and then asks Sledge to confirm it. They go through the process twice to be sure and by the end Mute is ready to strangle somebody.

Thatcher thanks his ‘friend’ and hangs up on him mid-sentence, to everyone’s relief, seeing as any sentence that begins with ‘and remember to replace the trousers that we’ can’t end well. And then it’s done. They hold a collective breath as Sledge pulls up the number he just saved and presents his phone to Mute.

He’s almost forgotten why they’re all here, but the serenity of this moment hits him out of the blue – he’s about to make a life-changing decision, yet he’s convinced it’s the right one. He really, really likes Smoke. Absence did make his heart grow fonder, he spent a few sleepless nights reminiscing over all the genuine, heartfelt, entertaining, meaningful moments they shared and realised he feels incomplete knowing he can’t just meet up with him, can’t just take a spontaneous day trip by his side or just laze around at his place. This is one of the things Smoke has learnt: leaving him alone. Not always, but sometimes Mute just needs time for himself, and of all people he didn’t expect pretentious, flashy, loud Smoke to acknowledge it.

He can’t wait to tell him that he feels the same way he does.

“Can you let me through?”, he asks, expecting the others to move out of his way for some privacy, and reads the room much too late. He’s almost furthest from the door, a door three Russians are blocking. Kapkan crosses his arms.

Okay. He gets it. He interrupted their sleep, wasted their time, irritated them to hell and back, and yet they stuck it through. They… kinda deserve to hear this.

Wordlessly, he dials the number and tries not to let his racing heartbeat affect him – anxiousness is crawling up his throat, clogging it, and the fact that he’s doing this in front of eight other people doesn’t fill him with confidence. What if Smoke’s sleeping already, went to bed confused and dejected? What if he’s changed his mind in the meantime? Every beep increases his dread and leaves him more restless than before and he’s not even aware of fidgeting until Sledge reaches out and squeezes his hand reassuringly. He could’ve smooched him for the gesture, just like he could’ve thrown something at Rook for pulling a dumb grimace simultaneously.

And then Smoke answers the call. “Yeah?”, he says, sounding tired yet curious. He hasn’t gotten any sleep all night and it must be morning for him too.

“James? It’s me.” Twitch gestures emphatically and so he switches to loudspeaker, as much as he doesn’t want to. Even Fuze looks invested at this point.

“Oh, how ya babe. What’s the craic?” Now that he knows it’s Mute, he’s much more lively and Mute wants to kiss him so badly it hurts.

“My phone died, I’m really sorry. Or rather – I walked against a street light and smashed it on the floor.”

“Shit. Are you alright? I could tell my messages weren’t coming through, so I figured something happened.”

His concern feels like a warm blanket. Mute is grinning like a lunatic but is long past caring at this point. “Yeah. Well. I’m just calling – I need to tell you something.” Tachanka stands up a little straighter, the smile on Glaz’ face grows and even Thatcher looks almost proud.

“Do you?”

Just like his question earlier, it’s a prompt. And just like Smoke earlier, he won’t leave him hanging. Mute gathers all his courage, looks around the room… and no.

He has a reputation to uphold. He can’t just blurt it out, can’t lay himself bare like they’re expecting him to.

And so he asks: “Are you a carbon sample, James?”

Visible and, on Smoke’s part, audible confusion. “Huh?”

“Because I’d really like to date you.”

Rook puts a hand over his eyes, Fuze continues to frown in ignorance and Kapkan rolls his eyes so hard it must’ve hurt. But somehow, Mute knows that he did exactly the right thing when he hears Smoke’s relieved laughter, undignified chortling conveying just how grateful he must be to hear this. “Babe”, he chuckles in disbelief, “you’re unbelievable.”

And despite the presence of so many other people, this is still only their moment, because it’s only the two of them giggling like idiots. “So”, he begins once their amusement has died down a little, “does that mean we’re -”

“Yes”, Smoke cuts him off. “Hell yes. There’s no way I’m gonna sleep now, I can’t wait to see you.”

“Fucking finally!!”, Kapkan yells and the entire caravan erupts into chaos – there’s cheering, clapping, a few complaints over their behaviour in the past, and Rook and Glaz actually exchange money. Thatcher pats him on the back, Kapkan nearly breaks one of his ribs with a meaningful nudge and Tachanka loudly proclaims his blessing. Mute just laughs, caught in the middle of it all, picturing Smoke’s flabbergasted expression over the sudden commotion and wondering how in the world he’s going to explain the whole situation to him later.

“The hell’s going on”, the phone in Mute’s hand asks and even he doesn’t know.

“I’ll talk to you later, James, love you, bye!” Smiling, he hangs up and switches to text messages, starts outlining the events of the evening while the storm continues to rage on around him.

“Admit it, you coward!”, Kapkan barks, and Twitch calls for a celebration, Sledge mentions he’s tired and would rather go home, Tachanka predictably exposes him with a crude comment about his boyfriend waiting for him, Glaz remarks favourably on Thatcher’s pyjamas, and Thatcher mentions he’s got a few pieces of cake in the fridge for an impromptu party, to which Rook replies with his mouth full that there’s only one piece left, and eventually even Fuze murmurs: “Alright, it was a little cute.”

But Mute only hears half of it because he sent Smoke a heart and received a heart back as well as the follow-up of with how much electricity there is flowing between us we must be a galvanic cell and good Lord, he wasn’t even aware of how fucking doomed he was.

~*~

Smoke is radiant.

He looks good on a bad day, but right now he’s bloody gorgeous – sleeves pulled up to reveal tanned skin, long hair combed back instead of parted according to no logic at all, and eyes gleaming. With every moment that passes, he becomes more and more ethereal, incorporeal, unapproachable, like a piece of art which can’t be touched or else it’d be ruined, like a mirage. They haven’t seen each other for a month so he might as well not be real at all, or maybe all their conversations over the past few days didn’t happen and Mute dreamt of his interest being reciprocated, and if nothing happens in the next second -

Smoke drops his duffel bag, reaches up and pulls him down for a kiss. It’s sweet and impossibly tangible, convinces him that this is really happening and so he prolongs it, relishes the contact of lips on lips. When they part, he’s left light-headed. “I’m back”, Smoke informs him unnecessarily.

“You’re early.” He nods. Both of them are beaming. “You didn’t even go home?”

“I came straight here.”

It’s a little awkward, Mute doesn’t really know how to react other than grinning like a dumbass, but it seems neither of them mind. “You wanna take a shower after the long flight?”

“Wanna join me?” He hesitates and Smoke picks up on it, carries his bag inside and closes the door behind them. “Babe, don’t worry. We’ll go slow. We can just laze around all day, do nothing. I’m just happy to be here.”

Mute is not fully convinced that it’s what he himself actually wants, but he agrees with the sentiment of finding their own pace. “Me too”, he admits quietly and runs his fingers through dark hair. It’s as soft as always, the feeling addicting, just like Smoke’s mouth, and so he kisses him again. They’re both oddly shy, conscious of themselves, and Mute recognises it as uneasy vulnerability. This is uncharted territory for both of them and in order not to overstep any boundaries, they tread carefully. “You look so fucking good”, Mute murmurs in between kisses and smiles when Smoke hums contentedly.

“See, when you say things like that, it’s really hard not to just spread my legs and tell you to go ham”, Smoke mutters, making him snort and interrupt their making out. “But I’ll be a gentleman. I promise.”

He senses there’s more to it than that. “If?”, he prompts expectantly, brows raised.

And Smoke’s smirk is unbearably smug. “If we do it on the table periodically”, he finishes.

They look at each other. He’s so fucking perfect Mute just wants to hold him and never let go.

“We’re going to be insufferable, aren’t we.”

It’s not a question, more of a fatalistic statement, and yet Smoke agrees with a joyous: “God I hope so.”

#rainbow six siege #smoke #mute #smoke/mute #fanfic #oneshot #these two will be the death of me especially when they're this cute #also props to that tumblr post about periodic table based insults #with love from potassium iridium uranium

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veinereastath · 6 years ago

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Like a faithful dog - one-shot.

Humiliating my Deputy - part four, hell yeah. Part five coming soon as well. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow. No regrets. Word count: 1689 Pairing: My female Deputy x Jacob. Kind-of, because it's mostly drama. Warnings: Blood, mentions of abuse. Nothing explicit, though. You can read it on my AO3, if you want! https://archiveofourown.org/works/15441507/chapters/41402789

Also, I'm sorry for eventual grammar mistakes, I'm not a native English speaker. c: (I wish, though, it would make my life much easier)

After a month in the cage, lonely, fed once every four days - which still was quite a luxury, considering the fact that other people were given a piece of meat once in a week, or not at all - without the possibility of doing anything but sitting or crawling, she fell into stasis. All she could do was watch Jacob's soldiers, for a whole day, sometimes even night. Their routine tasks. She could identify specific people passing by the cages just by the sound of their footsteps. When she realized that fact, she also understood how bad all of this looks like.

Yes. Jacob Seed was very, very patient, and that made him extremely dangerous. His youngest brother had a tendency to sudden outbursts and not very careful moves, which made it easier to avoid him and overtake his plans. But there was no chance in outsmarting Jacob. He was always one step ahead. Sometimes even two.

"C'mon." He said, passing by her cage, brushing his hand over her dirty and tousled hair. Her head was leaning against cold, hard rods. She preferred them to mud, which occupied most of the surface of the cage. "Time for a walk. I have a gift for you."

The woman hissed softly in response, wrapping her arms around her knees, trying to hide her face behind her hair. "No." She responded through clenched teeth, refusing to look at him. "I'm too tired. Get out."

Jacob seemed to not care. Irina hid her face deeper between her knees, shivering slightly, as if waiting for a blow - she doubted that the man wouldn't react. She heard him open the door of the cage and enter, but to her surprise, he didn't hit her. Still, she refused to look at him, so Jacob came closer and grasped her chin painfully, forcing her to look into his eyes. There was only emptiness in hers, while the blue eyes of the man gleamed something that Deputy was unable to properly classify. She wasn't really afraid of him at this point. She managed to understand him to some extent. Or maybe she just didn't care.

"Tired." He repeated with a hint of disgust, then grabbed her neck and with brutal force forced her to get up. The woman flashed her teeth ominously, like a wild animal, silently coughing, fighting to regain her breath. "Well, it won't be a problem. I have something that will make you wake up right away." He added with a slight, disturbing smile, then turned his back to her - as if mocking her, knowing she wouldn't take this opportunity and try to attack him - and left the cage without even glancing behind him. He knew that she would obediently follow him.

She followed him obediently like one of his Judges, grabbing the rods of the passing cages with her hand to keep her balance, without looking at the dead bodies of people and animals that were in all those cages. She spent too much time in this place to care - it seemed normal to her at this point.

Jacob led her to the main courtyard in front of the Veteran's Center, where three hunters and a few judges were gathered. However, the most important person in there was kneeling on the ground, bloody, with hands tied behind her back. Irina quickly realized that she was looking at one of the Whitetail Militia's members. She knew this woman, remembered her face and blonde, short hair. She was one of the better ones and Eli trusted her. Rook owed her a lot as well - this woman had helped her escape Jacob's hunters once, when Carter was ambushed.

The oldest of the Seed brothers wasn't in a hurry to provide explanations, but Irina already knew what the whole situation was heading for.

"You know her, right?" He asked mockingly, giving her a sinister look. Irina, too weak to stand up on her own, sat down on the ground, refusing to look at Jacob, instead trying to read something from the face of the captured woman.

"I do." Her voice was quiet, weak. Deprived of emotions. Jacob effectively washed them from her. He turned her into a blank page where he could write whatever he wanted.

The man nodded lightly, then took out his gun, painted with a characteristic, bright red. He flicked off the safety, then looked at the kneeling Whitetail. Irina heard someone's footsteps and noticed Pratt, who stood behind Jacob, his head down, like a faithful dog waiting for orders.

"I'll make it simple for you." Jacob approached Irina, pulling her up again. "Wolf's Den." He put a gun in her hand, standing just behind her, so that she could feel his warm breath on her neck. "IWhere it is. If none of you say anything, Whitetail dies, out of your hand. If one of you start talking and the information will turn out to be true, both of you survive."

But for how long? An unspoken question resounded in her mind. The pistol, which was usually light, now became unimaginably heavy and it seemed that it was dragging Rook towards the ground. Irina sighed softly, breathing nervously, trying to stop her hands from trembling.

"Ten seconds." Jacob announced, waiting. Carter just stared at the kneeling woman, with the pistol aimed at her head. She wondered if she could shoot Jacob instead, but she quickly gave up on the idea. The man stood just behind her, so she couldn't even turn his way. She was thinking about trying to get his knife from his thigh holster, but it also had no chance of success. "Tick tock."

Irina didn't shoot, and the woman who was practically doomed to death reciprocated her cold gaze. She didn't intend to say anything. They both knew that the life of one person is not worth the lives of dozens of others. Seed was aware of this as well. All of this was just a pure psychological manipulation. He wanted to break Deputy even more, because he knew that she was still trying to resist him, still trying to fight. Four. Three. Two. One.

"Time's up."

Jacob stabbed her side with something sharp - perhaps just a fucking, innocent piece of wood. He knew what it would lead to. The Deputy's finger inadvertently pulled the trigger, and Irina's hand, slightly smashed from it's previous path, made the bullet hit Whitetail in the throat instead of between her eyes. The shot woman began to choke on her own blood, spilling from her throat and mouth. Slow death. Jacob knew what he was doing, and he only summed it up with a quiet murmur. He didn't seem to be surprised or disappointed. He knew it would went this way. The man pulled the gun from her hand, and Irina was too stunned to react - she still just stared at the dead body, from which blood was still pouring out, trying to understand what had happened.

"I knew you were too weak to do it." The Soldier stood next to her and suddenly aimed the pistol at Pratt. He held it in one hand, almost nonchalantly, but he was looking at Irina, not at his target. Staci seemed too scared to do anything - he just stood in place, staring at the gun barrel, trembling like a child waiting for punishment from the parent. "The question is still the same. Either you answer me, or peaches dies."

"You wouldn't dare." She managed to spoke, finally, looking at him with cold determination. Jacob send her a slight, mocking smile.

"Ten seconds, honey."

She flinched and swayed slightly, uncertain. She still couldn't tell what was Pratt's worth in Jacob's eyes. She knew, however, that Staci's and Hudson's lives were less important to Joseph and his enigmatic plans than her own, so Pratt's death wouldn't do much damage to the Project. But would Seed truly kill him? Probably. His views differed from his brother's, and unlike John, Jacob was not afraid to show it. Joseph might have been able to manipulate the mind of the youngest member of the Family. The oldest one was a whole different story.

She already knew that Pratt's life was truly in danger and made a step forward when Jacob pulled his gun closer to Staci's head. "WAIT." Rook protested, weakly grabbing soldier's arm, trying to push him back. He looked slightly amused. "Leave him the fuck alone, you already broke him, for fuck's sake."

"Do you really think it's all about breaking him?" Jacob remained unmoved. For Irina, the worst thing was the fact that he was confident enough to say about his plans aloud, instead of leaving her only guesses. He didn't care about Pratt at all; she was the key to his plans. "Three seconds." He roused her from a temporary trance, and his finger began to lightly press the trigger. Seeing this, Deputy's desperation has reached its critical level. She couldn't stand the tension.

"In the West!" She cried with determination, feeling her throat tight. "South of the Visitor's Center, under the mountain towering above the main road. There is a helicopter landing pad right next to it... Fuck." She whispered, digging her pale fingers into the man's arm. Pratt remained motionless, but it was clear that he was on the verge of crying.

Jacob was silent for a long moment, looking at her intently. And then he pulled the trigger.

The pistol responded with a quiet click.

There was no bullet in it.

She froze, breathing hard. Looking at the red gun, as if it was guilty of all the evil of this world.

"You lied to me." She whispered through clenched teeth, finally looking into the eyes of a man who had deprived her of all value and took everything she had.

"I didn't." He replied, hiding his weapon. He patted her lightly on the shoulder, then walked back toward the cages It was clear that she had to follow him. "Thanks for confirming the location of the Den, Deputy. I wasn't sure if our information was true. Now I am."

She didn't even have the strength to cry.

#torturing my Deputy AGAIN #never gonna stop #sorry Irina #I still love you #far cry 5 #fc5 #fc #far cry #jacob seed #deputy #rookie #fc5 fanfic #far cry 5 fanfiction

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the-bibliophile-jedi · 7 years ago

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Trying to understand the hatred towards Kylo Ren aka Ben Solo

As December is nearing I'm yet again trying to understand what aspect of Kylo Ren's character makes his seem so evil and irredeemable to the antis

Sorry for the long rant

The first scene with Kylo Ren from Jakku

Antis: Oh God he killed an old unarmed man so brutally! And he ordered the massacre of an entire village! He should just die, he doesn't deserve any redemption.

Me: (trying to be rational) yeah that was indeed horrible. This cannot be justified at all but it doesn't mean that he shouldn't be redeemed. Like didn't anakin murder an entire village of tusken raiders? And what about those younglings? And those poor rebels in rogue one. And we don't have any idea about so many other people he killed between episode 3 and 4. He still got his redemption. Also, I'm pretty sure he sensed Finn's conflict and that he hadn't killed any of the villagers but still let him go.

Poe's interrogation scene

Antis: He treated Poe so horribly. He tortured him sooooooooo much. He is just pathetic.

Me: yeah of course he treated Poe so badly. No denying that. But what if the resistance captured an important first order member? What if they get hold of hux? Would they be nice to him or use any means possible to get information out of him? The latter of course because they are at WAR. Also didn't darth vader himself torture his own daughter (although he didn't know it then) to get information about the stolen death star plans? Also in rogue one Saw Gerrera kind of tortured Bodhi Rook using that horrible creature to make sure he was telling the truth and it even lead to a temporary loss of his sanity. So I guess it happens on both sides.

when Hux says they were trying to identify who helped Poe and Kylo Ren immediately says the one from the village

Antis: OMG he knows it was Finn. He identified him, God he is so evil.

Me: like I said before, he saw Finn's inner conflict yet let him go, bc I guess he was going through the same conflict?

When Kylo finds out Finn and BB-8 escaped with the help of a girl

Antis: Did you see that? Look at what an angry and destructive person he is. And look how he treats the first order employees.

Me: Well I guess that's better than force choking his co-workers like darth vader used to. Also (about that 'the droid stole a freighter' comment) did he just make a joke?

The scene with Snoke and Hux

Antis: These people are so inhuman they are destroying an entire planetary system. Pathetic.

Me: Maybe it's just me but did you see that smug look on Hux's face when he looked at Ren? It felt as if Ren was not fully supportive of the destruction of the Hosnian system. We can't see his face obviously and I think it was necessary that he had his mask on in that scene or it could have given away a lot.

The scene with Darth Vader's destroyed mask

Antis: What is wrong with him? Doesn't he know Darth Vader redeemed himself? He is actually worse than Vader.

Me: are we just going to ignore the fact that he felt 'the pull to the light' which shows he can still be redeemed? And I guess he is feeling that way right now because:

• He ordered the murder of an entire village

• An entire planetary system is about to be destroyed

• Perhaps Finn's abandoning the FO intensified his inner conflict?

So about the first two points, these two horrible acts must have made him feel guilty and that guilt was the pull to the light. Also remember that time Palpatine told Anakin to show no mercy because only then he will be able to fully use the dark side? Ren is doing the same here, killing innocents to feel the dark side fully. I'm not saying his actions can be justified, but I'm saying that this doesn't make him irredeemable.

Kylo Ren and Rey's confrontation on Takodana

Antis: Look how he is torturing her! She is in so much pain. And he just kidnapped her what the hell! He should just die.

Me: (the reylo inside me awakens) What an evil person right? He didn't even let her fall on the ground and carried her to the ship in the nicest way possible. He could have carried her using the force, asked the stormtroopers to take her like he did eith poe, or at least he could have thrown her on his shoulder bc that way he would have one hand free to defend himself in case someone attacks him which had a very high chance since they were in a battle zone and resistamce fighters were pouring in. Also about torture, let me point it out again, they are at WAR and he is extracting info just the way the resistance would have done. Doesn't make his crimes any less but it doesn't mean he is downright evil.

The most important scene- Rey's interrogation

Antis: HE MIND RAPED HER!!! SHE WAS IN SO MUCH PAIN!! HE INVADED HER PERSONAL MEMORIES!!!! JUST KILL HIM ALREADY!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me: woah woah wait. How long had she been unconscious? He actually waited for her to wake up while sitting in that uncomfortable posture? WHYYYY??? That is sooooo not evil. And why does it bother him that she still wants to kill him? I mean who doesn't? Lol. I am willing to bet that at least half the FO would like to see him dead. And he removed his mask because she said he was 'a creature in a mask'? I mean even Poe said that it was difficult to understand him with the apparatus but he didn't remove his mask then. And is there a good reason they made the villain so damn attractive? (Now that scene when Ren asks her about BB8 and she gives that smart answer) Is he-Is he amused? And why isn't this EVIL guy annoyed by her answer? (You know I can take whatever I want) uhhhhh...why do i sense some sexual tension here? Also why does he have to lean sooooo close to her while probing her mind? He didn't do that with Poe right? And do I see a slight smile on his face? And of course he can relate with Rey's feelings of loneliness here. He is connecting with her here. Also MIND RAPE? She does that to him too right? And she reveals his deepest fear? And he doesn't even lash out on her and just leaves right? And I don't want to go over it again but c'mon they are at war and he wants information. (Plus he says in the novel that he'd have preferred not to go ahead with the mind probe bc it gave him no joy and that he would go as easy on her as possible)

Meeting no 2 with snoke and hux

Antis: He is so bad, if he gets hold of rey he is gonna torture her so much. And these monsters are about to destroy the resistance!!

Me: I'm not entirely convinced that Ren is happy about the destruction of the resistance base (which would eventually result in the death of his mum) and that's why he tries to interrupt snoke and says that he can get the map from her. (Also snoke says that he sensed that Ren has compassion for Rey in the novel and what did Anakin say about compassion in attack of the clones? Compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is central to a jedi's life)

Kills Han

Antis: This is it. There's no going back now. HE CANNOT AND SHOULD NOT BE REDEEMED!!!!!! HOW COULD HE KILL HIS FATHER??? HAN SOLO? REY SHOULD KILL HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me: Are you annoyed by the fact that he killed his father or because he killed Han Solo? Obviously patricide is a terrible act and yeah what he did was absolutely wrong but I guess what is bothering you more is the fact that he murdered fan favourite Han Solo. Because Anakin killed his only father figure and best friend Obi-Wan too right? And on one hand Ren and Han had a very strained relationship as father and son but on the other hand Anakin and Obi-Wan were sooooo close to each other. And he almost killed his pregnant wife and unborn child right? And he actually was the cause of his wife's ultimate death. And he was redeemed. So why not Kylo Ren? Also you are just going to ignore the look of shock and guilt on Ren's face right? Also, according to the novel, the act weakened him instead of making him stronger. He was horrified by what he had done.

Antis: You reylos are JUST pathetic. Trying to justify that monster's actions. Rey should never forgive him. And how can she when he killed the only father figure she ever had?

Me: woah woah who justified his actions? We are just saying that he can still be redeemed there is nothing wrong with that. And he killed Rey's father figure? Seriously? Are we the same fandom who has made fun of the fact that Luke felt so sad by the death of Obi-wan Kenobi even after knowing him for a few days? Isn't this the same situation? Also more than the fact that it was Han that he killed, I guess what hurt shocked Rey the most was that he killed his own father. She couldn't understand how could someone do that to their own family because she had always longed for one.

The Final Fight: Finn and Rey vs Kylo Ren

Antis: He threw Rey on that tree. He hurt her again.

Me: She was going to shoot him. What did you want him to do? Does it bother you because he thre a 'girl' at the tree? Because it seems like it does. Also, I guess it was better than force choking her? He is perfectly capable of that. And did you even see the way he pounded on his injury because remember 'pain leads to the dark side'? He is trying to draw power from his pain because he doesn't have enough darkness in him.

Antis: Oh God look how he hurt Finn. What do you have to say about thay huh? He almost killed him.

Me: Yeah ikr Finn was being so nice to him. He didn't deliver a single killer blow at him. He would have never killed him if he had the chance because he doesn't consider him his enemy am i right? Bullshit.

Rey and Kylo fight

Antis: He could have hurt her so bad!!! He would have definitely killed her. You kill him Rey! He deserves it!

Me: Well first of all, he would have easily killed her when they were standing on the edge of the cliff. I don't even know how many times reylos have stated this but no one wants to listen right. Secondly, guess what? Rey is a wonderful person but she is not fully on the light side after all. He wanted to kill him, would have definitely killed him had the ground not cracked and separated them, and well almost did kill him because she left a wounded man alone to die on a planet that was about to explode bc she had no way to know that someone was coming to save him. But of course that is justified for her because she is on the good side and they are at war right? What gets me everytime is the fact that we forget that the resistance has killed many innocents too in the name of greater good. I've always felt that not all stormtroopers are evil (even before watching tfa) and tfa and finn intensified my belief. Most of them are just following orders because if they don't they will be killed right? And not everyone can be as brave as Finn was. How many of them were on the 2 death stars and star killer base when they were destroyed? Not everything is as black and white as it seems.

But of course, if someone is adamant about something we cannot change their pov no matter how many logical explanations we give. You don't ship reylo? Cool, you don't have to. But it's not an abusive ship. Tbh Ren suffered more at the hands of Rey than she did (lol) and they are are EQUALS. No one is saying that he is her superior, rather she is the stonger and braver one and he is the one with more experience. And yes of course, a woman can both be both romantic and badass (because I am too lol and so was leia, and padme though she isn't given much credit).

#reylo #kylo x rey #kylo ren #rey #kylo ren trash #ben solo #save ben solo #reylo fam #reylo forever #reylo trash

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thievinimp · 8 years ago

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This question’s been sitting in my askbox for WEEKS now, apologies for taking so long to respond to this!

To preface this post it’s important to note: I’m not a professional, and don’t have professional experience. All thoughts are based on personal opinion, preference, and prior experience designing characters for personal projects!

Click the jump for a big post with me rambling about character designs I do and don’t like, and why I do/don’t like them!

So several months ago I went on a tirade about character designs in all these big multiplayer games coming out. You know the ones! Overwatch, Battleborn, Battlerite, Gigantic, Splatoon, etc. etc., there’s a thousand of these released every few months it feels like. At any rate, one of the big draws for all of these titles are the characters you control in them obviously. Partially thanks to the success of MOBAs like League of Legends and DOTA 2 we’ve seen more and more focus on games with these characters referred to as “heroes” and “champions”. While this should be really exciting for a lot of those who are interested in the character design aspect of titles such as these (like me!), I feel as though a lot of them miss the mark for one reason or another.

There’s several important aspects to designing a character, I believe the most important are all tied to their shape/silhouette. Ornate details and color are important, but in terms of character design hierarchy, a good shape will trump all other details. A silhouette is what you’re gonna see first always, you might acknowledge decorations or color choice first, but your brain is focused on the outline they’ve got. This is where my problem lies with a lot of these games (which stems from my love of diverse shapes and sizes in these rosters.). Most of these games feature characters with proportions that don’t stray too far from reality as to not scare people away with stuff that’s too unfamiliar, or in some cases “too cartoony”.

For example, let’s take a look at some Overwatch’s characters for a moment.

Here we’ve got a small sampling of characters from 2016′s GAME OF THE YEARRRRR: Overwatch. Notice something with these 5? They’re a bunch of people in fancy costumes, coupled with some stock personalities. This isn’t a diss at the art itself (courtesy of Blizzard artist Arnold Tsang), the art itself is great. These characters are the result of focus testing to reach as broad of an audience as possible. They are played as safely as possible as to not offend with their depictions of race, and are shaped in ways that are very safe to people who don’t typically play video games too much, let alone first person shooters. I think this is boring. They didn’t play around with the different characters shapes to identify them better, instead we’ve got a few very similar body types dressed and animated differently (the in-game animations are actually really good, and I don’t want to discredit Blizzards work on a lot of the character animations).

Now, that’s not to say Overwatch is riddled with designs I perceive as boring, I think there’s a couple strong, unique designs in the game that actually look good, one of which stands above the rest. Look at this big asshole:

This is Roadhog. This is a character with a clear, concise concept and idea that’s executed as perfectly as they could within the constraints they have with the characters. He has an immediately recognizable shape, he’s decorated appropriately, every aspect of him visually conveys what he is and who he is. He’s big, he’s bad, and he’s ugly (in the best possible way). They really went all out with this particular design, and it saddens me a lot of the other characters feel under-cooked compared to him thanks to how safe they played it with most of the cast. SHOUTOUTS TO Reinhardt, Reaper, Torbjorn and Zenyatta for doing their best to break the mold as well.

With Overwatch out of the way let me gush for a minute about Gigantic.

This is a game that gets it, the people at Motiga have created a colorful, diverse cast of characters in terms of shape and size and they’re each immediately recognizable from just their silhouettes. They’ve gone with more stylized and unconventional shapes not typically seen in MOBAs (LoL, DOTA, etc) or games like Overwatch, Paladins or Battleborn. Let’s get a sample of Gigantic’s characters.

Look at this! Look at how much they’ve stylized the proportions, how unafraid they are to make characters with these shapes. The little round man, the hulking armored juggernaut, the top-heavy bull, the short and squat witch, and the elegant and mysterious masked warrior: all with completely unique bodies. Not only are they shapes unique, the colors used throughout either support aspects of the character, or are used masterfully to break up the color in ways ideal for 3D character animations. The animations in-game are incredible as well, every single character oozes personality through just their movements and designs!

Unfortunately, characters like these don’t appeal to everyone. They aren’t as immediately appealing as the Overwatch cast due to their unorthodox shapes and stylized bodies. Some will deem them “too cartoony”, others will insist the characters are “ugly” because they aren’t familiar with characters stylized like this.

Overwatch and Gigantic are going for two completely different looks overall, and especially with their characters. But there’s one comparison I want to make that demonstrates the philosophies behind both, but more importantly shows why Gigantic’s direction is so strong.

These are Zarya, and Zandora, respectively

Zarya is the absolute weakest design in Overwatch. She’s an awkward mashup of shapes that convey absolutely nothing. She’s got big arms and a short haircut to clue players in on how powerful she is. She totes around a big gun too, ain’t that somethin’?

Zandora is what Zarya’s design should have been in several ways. Her power isn’t overstated with a bevy of cheap visual cues slapped onto something that’s just “large”. Her power is communicated through the strong shapes that make up Zandora: the top heavy armor, the overall wider build, big in-your-face hair, and a sword that was crafted to compliment her. What might be most notable is her star-shaped silhouette. It’s handled so tastefully and executed perfectly. I want to say that her design is by Devon Cady-Lee, who also did these illustrations below that show how good that idea looks on paper as well:

Gigantic is paragon of quality among a sea of games full of safe, boring marketable designs made to attract the largest possible crowds. It pains me knowing this game won’t reach the same success Overwatch will partly because of how visually distinct this title is.

While I clearly have a bias towards Gigantic, I will admit Overwatch as a whole is mostly competent. The character designs serve their purposes, even if I happen to think they’re boring.

What about those other games? Here’s a game that I’ve enjoyed playing recently: Battlerite.

Battlerite is a top-down arena brawler. One might call it a MOBA, but it’s a team deathmatch game sort of. Your goal is to defeat the enemy team in a first to 3, 2v2/3v3 match. You moved with WASD and you’ve got keys for abilities, vaguely similar to games like LoL or DOTA 2 in a way.

Battlerites case is very much “we want the MOBA crowd”. This sounds like a really lazy descriptor that lacks any value, but hear me out: Battlerite is the spiritual success to a game just like it called Bloodline Champions that came out a few years ago. Here’s a sampling of characters from Bloodline Champions:

Bloodline Champions is a game with a unique, clear visual identity. Whether or not you like it, it’s clearly something wholly unique in terms of color and how they’ve decorated their characters. Weird shapes (top left, top right) as well as familiar ones with distinct ornate details (bottom two). They all adhere to colors that the games overall aesthetics thrive from, it’s very gritty and twisted.

SO WHAT DO YOU MEAN “WE WANT THE MOBA CROWD”??? JERK

This is what I mean. The first character showed off that wasn’t a direct adaptation of a bloodline champions character was Pearl. Here’s Pearl:

Pearl is the epitome of the differences between Bloodline Champions and Battlerite’s character designs. Half-baked ornate details because without them, the characters would end up more generic than they already are. Battlerite’s cast is comprised of archetypal MOBA character stand-ins. They’re boring, and hollow uninspired renditions of characters that had a lot more style in a previous life. Here’s some really boring Battlerite characters:

BLAH. They’ve got the Overwatch “problem” but even worse. These guys really just look like cosplayers doing characters that don’t exist. Staff man. Sickle man. Gun woman. These designs convey nothing beyond what you see. I don’t mind cool characters for the sake of cool characters, I’m the last person to complain about it, but Battlerite really tests that for me. The in-game camera doesn’t do these designs or models any favors too, unfortunately. There’s a single very standout design among the roster.

This is Pestilus.

He’s shaped strange. He’s round, he’s got really stubby limbs, and he’s got these big bug legs on his back. Pestilus is cool! Lookit’ his gnarly teeth, wowie. Unfortunately the in-game model doesn’t do him justice:

He’s paler, his teeth are simplified and lack the character his chompers had in the above illustration. I still like this one, he’s in a league of his own compared to most of the rest of the cast. HONORABLE MENTIONS GO TO RUH KAAN AND ASHKA:

I’ve said that the worst thing a character design can be is mediocre. Not good enough, not bad enough. Battlerite rides slightly above that line. There’s a few interesting characters here and there. Some have unique silhouettes (Ashka, Ruh Kaan, Pestilus and Rook) and most server their purpose. They’re boring, but they’re not aggressively boring/mediocre. That line of design goes to a little game called. . .

Paladins: Wizards of the Coast or whatever the fuck the subtitle is

Chinese bootleg overwatch. A game that was trying to be a bit unique before a lot of changes were made to match a similar, “hero”-based shooter game where you push payloads and capture points. This is a game with aggressively boring characters. The characters are in this game because if you had none, you wouldn’t have anything to play as. They’re crude facsimiles of better looking, more thought-out characters and designs. Here’s a sampling of these lot of losers.

These characters are nothing. Their silhouettes are bland. You’re either big, small or medium with no rhyme or reason. You have a gimmick. Your colors don’t serve much purpose beyond “we needs color-keys to recolor for skins”. Very rarely are they in service of the shapes in question, or to break up monotony in big stretches of solid color. The knight on the left is dull as dull can be. Sure, knights are done to death but good lord they’ve really found a way to try and make him exciting but failed miserably thanks to:

A silhouette that is nothing beyond “TALL MAN”

Colors that are gray all over, his armor is supposed to be metallic but the textures and shading do it no favors. The yellow in there doesn’t do enough in breaking it up because they’re only along the trim of each armor piece.

His shield doesn’t compliment him, it’s an obligation. He has a lance, he needs a shield, and not one that works in conjunction with anything solid.

There’s a single design in Paladins that I don’t think is the absolute most mediocre thing in the industry: Bomb King.

He’s big and loud both visually and personality wise. He’s got a standout silhouette, and colors used mostly tastefully to break up his main blue coat. Bomb King doesn’t look like he belongs in this game, and is strangely. . . Toyetic. I kind of like Bomb King.

Paladins is mediocre. Paladins is very unimaginative and dull, the most recent characters are some of the most unmemorable I’ve seen in recent times, when it comes to these games. While Paladins is mediocre, at the very least it isn’t. . .

COMPLETE, IRREDEEMABLE SHIT.

ENTER: BATTLEBORN-

Battleborn is a game that isn’t aggressively boring, it’s aggressively ugly. It’s annoying. It’s messy, it’s loud, it’s busy. Battleborn is garbage. This game is rife with characters that convey nothing, silhouettes that are awkward and make no sense who are modeled in one of the most unappealing looking games of the past 5 years. This one is so bad I really don’t want to post a sample of characters because I hate looking at 99% of the roster, but I have to. . . I have to. . . Here’s a sampling of Battleborns characters. . . eugh. . .

Do you like any of these designs? Legitimately curious. Unnappealing shapes, ugly facial features, completely mangled details that are hard to make out, poorly balanced silhouettes. . . There’s so much wrong with all of these designs. Some of the ones in the game wildly stylize proportions, mostly very poorly, some are very restrained and more realistic, some are complete abominations like the monster in the upper left: Attikus.

It’s worth singling out Attikus because his concept art has something very interesting behind it: He didn’t look like complete fucking shit, his shapes were solid and his silhouette would’ve worked perfectly, but they seemingly went out of their way to get the ugliest possible outcome they could achieve. See below, Attikus thumbnails:

These are all so much more sound than the final product. Why didn’t they go with any of these four beyond “We gotta make it uglier to fit in with everything else!”. While still asymmetrical, the shapes here tell you he’s powerful and ready to rip and tear through every living thing in his path to victory. That final Attikus looks like it tried to go with something weirdly proportioned like some of the Gigantic characters, but with a fresh coat of grime.

At no point has this stream-of-conscious post has been about nitty gritty things like facial features but Thorn looks vile:

There are no honorable mentions for Battleborn. The very best of the bunch is still very boring and half baked. They’re plain, and that’s really it. They don’t assault your eyeballs with how putrid and gaudy they are, which, by default, makes them the best.

One thing worth nothing is that there are piece of concept art here and there that actually look great, but are put through Battleborns poor “World of Warcraft” + “Disney Infinity” + GREASE filter don’t look nearly as good. The one I like most is this rendition of one of the first DLC characters, Pendles. Here’s the piece in question:

Very lovingly rendered. I don’t want to talk about Battleborn any more. I’m sick of looking at it.

Anyways, there’s some insight on what I think does and doesn’t work in the form of this weird stream-of-consciousness, giant post. Feel free to ask more and I’ll weigh in on it as poorly as I did here! I’d love to hear what everyone has to say about these games and their character designs, and what you like most about the, as well as what you like least about them!

#not art #character design #overwatch #battleborn #gigantic #gogigantic #Paladins #Battlerite

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sophygurl · 8 years ago

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Rebel Scum: Finding Hope in Resistance - WisCon 41 panel write-up

These tend to be long and only of interest to specific segments of folk so click the clicky to read.

Disclaimers:

I hand write these notes and am prone to missing things, skipping things, writing things down wrong, misreading my own handwriting, and making other mistakes. So this is by no means a full transcript.

Corrections, additions, and clarifications are most welcome. I’ve done my best to get people’s pronouns and other identifiers correct, but please do let me know if I’ve messed any up. Corrections and such can be made publicly or privately on any of the sites I’m sharing these write-ups on(tumblr and dreamwidth for full writings, facebook and twitter for links), and I will correct ASAP.

My policy is to identify panelists by the names written in the programming book since that’s what they’ve chosen to be publicly known as. If you’re one of the panelists and would prefer something else - let me know and I’ll change it right away.

For audience comments, I will only say general “audience member” kind of identifier unless the individual requests to be named.

Any personal notes or comments I make will be added in like this [I disagree because blah] - showing this was not part of the panel vs. something like “and then I spoke up and said blah” to show I actually added to the panel at the time.

Rebel Scum: Finding Hope in Resistance

Moderator: Anika Dane. Panelists: Becky Allen, Sandra Ulbrich Almazan, William Paimon

#RebelScumResist - for the livetweets and other thoughts on the panel

Anika introduced herself and talks about how she fell in love with Vader early on and said that Star Wars saved her sanity. She has the tumblr politicalpadme.

Sandra introduced herself and talked about doing Star Wars costuming for charity and said she is “a part time Jawa”. She shows off her Leia T-shirt which reads “A woman’s place is in the resistance”.

Becky introduced herself as a YA author who is heavily influenced by Star Wars. Rey is her favorite, but she aspires to be Leia.

William introduced himself as a psychologist. Han is his favorite rebel - not as a good person but as a piece of shit who stumbles into being a better person.

Anika said starting with the middle stories - the first 3 - as being most about rebellion. How do these movies inspire you as ways to rebel?

Becky talked about Rogue One - specifically Bodhi Rook and how he became a rebel from having been a mercenary for the other side. Also Finn from The Force Awakens.

Sandra talked about the animated Star Wars Rebels series - small groups of rebels who became part of the larger movement.

William also noted Rogue One - Baze and Chirrut specifically. There were so many relevant characters in RO who were mostly side or background characters. Their moments of sacrifice in RO were intense and beautiful.

Anika asked about cautionary tales, for example - a character who goes too much to one extreme. (At this point, someone in audience’s phone goes off and it’s the Star Wars theme lol)

Becky talked about RO and how it took place in a larger world that we didn’t get to see much of. We’re not sure, as the audience, what the extremists did that the other rebels didn’t like so much. Another example is in Luke’s training - finding out he could go dark and deciding not to, even though doing so could help him win and save more people.

William said RO shows the toll resistance can take - the costs and damage. Again, with Luke, he killed millions of people on the Death Star. “There’s no way there’s not a day care center there.” [IDK about that but ok...]

Sandra brought up an earlier panel at the con - These Are Not the Stories We’re Looking For. In RO, there were all these discussions within the rebellion about what actions to take.

Anika mentioned the line in RO that is said twice - “Rebellions are built on hope.” This idea was passed from one character to another and then finally to all of them. Jyn and Cassian are both fairly jaded - so why is hope such a big part of their rebellion.

Sandra answered that if there is no hope of change - what is the point of resisting at all?

Becky talked about the election in November being followed by RO in December. It was so resonant because she had been feeling so scared and hopeless. The characters in RO don’t know that their sacrifices went anywhere. It helped with the idea that she can do things and not know the affect she’s having - but those things can be doing something; the idea that if we know we’re all together in this - we have a hope of winning.

William talked about the characters in RO being very different people with different values and not always liking one another - but they were held together with their hope and with their need to fight.

Sandra emphasized that the final word in the film was the word “hope.”

Anika brought up how hope is passed on with the Death Star plans and passed on through Leia. How is hope passed on through the generations? No major character in the series is raised by their birth parents, so how is hope passed on through family, friends, and loved ones?

Sandra answered that the mentor-trainee relationship is one big way it’s passed on. Also mentioned how C-3PO and R2-D2 are in all the films - how do they pass it on?

Becky said that in TFA, the new generation doesn’t have any clear living memory of what had happened before. Is Luke real, is the force real, etc.? The search for Luke is the search for hope.

Anika brought up Bail Organa who raised Leia. While there is a lot of Vader in Leia, we can see how Bail raised her to be a shinning hope for the entire universe.

Becky talked about the different ways those familial relationships affected things. Jyn was raised by extremists and ends up pretty jaded. Poe is raised in victory and has a very positive and plucky attitude.

Anika mentioned the end of Empire, the celebrations, and the statue of Palpatine being taken down. It’s unrealistic - we’re still fighting about confederacy statues here!

Becky talked about how the stories told affect us. Luke was raised believing his father was an important rebel - the clash of discovering the truth and how that affected his decisions going forward.

Sandra brought up the problems of people being so surprised about what’s happening in these stories. Why is there so much disagreement about it? Well, some of them (Rey and Luke for example) were raised on backwater planets. The questions about if the resistance is even needed are because messages aren’t being spread far and wide.

William compares this to us today - people voting against obamacare but loved their ACA. An audience member asks if the SW universe has no internet. William suggests that perhaps literacy is not even widespread in this universe. People don’t know their own history - they only have oral storytelling. A member of the audience says that disinformation can be very hard to fight psychologically.

Becky said she is studying her own family history and it’s difficult to go back further than a generation or two.

Anika brought up the prequels. Padme’s line about this war represents a failure to listen. This represents the entire series, really. No one is communicating with one another or listening much when they do - even when on the same side. Only one talking to everyone ... is Palpatine. How do we combat this? There doesn’t seem to be an answer in Star Wars.

Sandra mentions C-3PO and R2 - they’re in it from the beginning and have a lot of knowledge. R2 is the smartest but very few can understand him. C-3PO is a translator but no one wants to listen to him!

Becky emphasizes that people with privilege have to listen and lift up the voices of more marginalized people. We have to get on the same page, but that page has got to include all of these other things even if - especially if - those things don’t affect me personally.

William talked about how people become focused on their own lives and don’t look at what’s happening on a broader scale.

An audience member brought up that the basis of SW is anglo-centric individualist hero’s journey. RO shifts that a bit into being about a community of heroes.

William adds that even in RO the extremist is a black man.

Anika asks how do we form our own rebel alliance and use SW to bring a message of hope?

Sandra said it’s about ordinary people coming together and how that can draw power [okay there was a whole lot of stuff here about the laws of power that I just blocked out because I can’t with that].

Becky talked about the themes of hope and also of warnings in the movies - if we don’t do the work (beyond just blowing up the Death Star), the Empire will come back. Fandom is community/communities - we need more communication and active listening among these communities. Fandom can give a foundation for community action.

William added that we need to build access - the world kids live in today, they have a lot of access to information and conversations that took us older folks a lot longer to get to.

Becky stated that adults who interact with kids need to help them think critically about what they’re reading and talking about online. Help them apply stuff like conversations about privilege to their real lives.

An audience member talked about a 20-something nephew who is both a SW fan and a tea partier. They think of themselves as the rebels.

Anika brought up an article online - someone saying they grew up wanting to be Luke Skywalker, but joined the army and found themselves part of the Empire instead. We love underdogs and we all like to think of ourselves as the underdog. Using fandom to reach people can be problematic because we all personalize the stories we read and watch.

An audience member added that with The Hunger Games, the right sees themselves as the rural downtrodden folk and the capitol as the liberal elite.

Becky also added that Captain America resonates with all sides politically in this country. She asks “why are we fighting different Empires?”

William talked about the narrative appetite for violent rebellion. It’s strong with the right with narratives about confederacy, for example.

Becky said that we can all see ourselves as Luke, but certain segments freaked out about Rey, Finn, and all of Rogue One’s cast. It felt like the franchise was being taken away from them, when really it was being given to more people.

Sandra stated that everyone is the hero of their own story [not always true ime, but yea].

An audience member brought up Galen as a character working within the system. This idea of collaboration vs. rebellion.

William said that Galen made him really uncomfortable, and compared it to stories of people working within the Nazi’s in order to help Jewish people escape.

Becky stated that very few people are all good or all bad. We all do what we can, but at the same time - maybe don’t build the Death Star?

Sandra said that Galen knew they could make it without him, so he felt his only option was to build it but put in the flaw.

Anika brought up how Jyn was raised by Galen and Saw - extremes on either side of the rebellion with different ideas of how to fight. How does that affect her?

After a whole discussion about media, the spread of info, storytelling vs. entertainment in the SW universe (sorry did not catch it all down in my notes), Anika stated that Trump is not Palpatine. Trump is Jabba the Hutt.

An audience member brought up Uncle Owen as showing how invested you can be in the status quo - even if that status quo is terrible. Becky added that Owen told Luke - your dad was a rebel fighter and he died, so don’t do that. But Luke was like - omg my dad was a hero and died for his cause, I wanna be just like him! (somewhere in there she also stated “if you don’t like the Ewoks, you can fight me!” lol)

William said Owen was right - Luke got into the fight and everyone died. This idea of survival vs. resistance.

Becky talked about how Owen was all about surviving another day while ignoring the terrible things happening. We have to have hope that we can fight this. But the Empire was going to come for Luke anyway...

Anika mentioned Jyn’s line about being able to ignore the Imperial flag as long as you don’t look up...

Anika then asked the panelists what they’re doing for the resistance.

Sandra talked about joining groups to fight gerrymandering and calling representatives on issues.

Becky said she’s become more aware of politics on the local level. There was recently a specific election in just her district that she might not have known about a year ago. She stressed the importance of knowing all of your reps. She also continues to write about these themes in her own writing.

William talked about using his job working with kids to support where they’re coming from. An example was adjusting the bathroom policy in school system. Him coming in as a white male doctor and using that power to get the issue taken more seriously has helped.

Becky concluded - “I fight straight white men more now. My discomfort is worth getting through to people.”

#rebelscumresist #wiscon #wiscon 41 #wiscon41 #wc41 #rebel scum resist #star wars #hope #resistance

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