#cod self aware au

[certifiedcodbabygirl]

141 spying on you from your phone when you haven't played their game for a while( they miss you) 😂

God they're so nosey 😭

Wdym you're too busy with work/ college to play a game? Wdym your depression is so bad you're just mindlessly scrolling on TikTok, watching edits of them, instead of actually seeing them? Honey, come home, the kids miss you.

They see you lying in bed, hair messed up, pupils dilating at their renders doing the Baba trend. They see the compilations of their banter, their friendship, and their hands while reloading their guns.

They see the stress seep into your skin when your boss gives you endless tasks for the same pay, and it almost catches your eye when your phone screen flickers on in an attempt gain your attention, to no avail.

It's too bad you didn't notice the screen bending on your computer when you looked over your papers, a couple of fingers skeptically testing this new found ability. It's really too bad he had access to the files on your computer, including your address. It's really too bad you had been able to get your work done on time and didn't need to stay late.

Truly perplexing how the security cameras turned off.

"power surge" They'd say

And no one knows that the man walking into your building wasn't truly your fiancé, but they didn't need to.

He had been given a miracle, and he was heading their way.

[phantomglass]

self aware cod au

There it is again. Their sweet laugh. He could hear it echoing around the empty aircraft after another round of victory. He looks at weapon in his hand, turning it around a few times before staring hard at it.

His thoughts ran wild, thoughts of you. How you controlled him to use this same weapon to execute your enemies. How you were able to quickly gain your focus back even after getting off guard several times by the enemy, Your great aim, Your swift moves in clicking and guiding him, Your compliments for him each time for getting a kill... Oh, you sure are generous with your compliments. Even when he feels shit about himself and even after knowing and loathing the reality that he's just codes put together for other people's entertaiment and fun,

but even then, he loves all the compliments and attention you gave him. He loves your voice, your laugh, the way you say his name. He hates the fact he couldn't see you. He often wondered what you look like. Especially after he somehow was able to get a small peak of your hologram face. It lasted for only a few seconds, but it felt like years passed. He was flabbergasted and became a stone for moment. You thought it was a glitch but really, it was just his encoded heart beating really fast. Then after awhile, came the thoughts of wanting to see you. To stare at you, to touch you, to hold you, to make you flustered just like how he did with just his voicelines. He wonders what you would do if he's right infront you, right now.

Suddenly the aircraft's ramp door began to open, making him look at it and your voice chiming in.

"Alright, you ready for another round?"

─

Reblogs & comments are highly appreciated!

@phantomglass

[doodler-jpeg]

Thinking about self aware! MW characters (plus Roach) who absolutely adore your laugh.

CW// gender neutral, unfunny men deserve to be slandered, favoritism is seen, badly translated Scottish and Spanish, this is based off of my interpretation (you can find the main fic link on my account)

Feedback and criticism are highly encouraged! Please tell me if anything is badly translated, out of character, or something else!

Ghost actively makes jokes that are guaranteed to make you at least giggle. Even through this weird mental barrier (for him) and your monitor's screen, it's so invigorating to hear some form of joy out on the field, especially when it's from you. It just makes that fuzzy feeling in his heart multiply.

"Thank you, thank you - I'll be here all night."

Gaz takes absolute advantage of this. He makes a few jokes here and there, but keeps it to interesting stories. In some instances, he just starts laughing out of nowhere and you can't help but join in. It's very clear he gets bitches on the daily.

"Didn't know I was that funny, but I'll take what I can get."

Price uses all of his past experiences with courting to get, at the very least, a giggle or two out of you. He doesn't have millenium of experience (contrary to your belief), but he's certain that his "old-man" charisma and his weird way with words. But he still tells some older jokes, so your assumption that he's older isn't completely wrong (he was totally raised by his grandparents).

"Would you like to hear a story?" *Tells one of the pointless joke stories that lasts for 10 minutes and has the stupidest punchline*

Roach can't really come up with ways to make you laugh. His preference of keeping quiet and faceless doesn't really help, either. Instead, he tries to point out some enemy on the field, signing insults to them that you're sure to understand.

'His head looks like a donkey, and he acts like one, too.'

Soap physically cannot keep you from laughing. He doesn't even have to make a joke, you just start laughing. He believes it's because he's just an immediately funny dude, but you're not going to tell him that he looks stupid with that hairstyle. If he does tell any jokes, they're not even funny.

"Dinnae ken how come ye'r laughing, bit keep daein' it."

Alejandro tries, he really does, and it doesn't work most of the time. It's kind of funny seeing this overly-confident dude absolutely fumble because of his lack of realization that your personality and humor aren't really the same as the people he usually catches. On occasion, though, he does get a rise out of you and can't stop smirking about it for the rest of the day.

Valeria has subtle jokes that rely mainly on her tone, but those aren't her priority. She doesn't mean to be rude (lies usually, but with you?), but she does impressions of your laugh and then comments on it. Usually they're not bad, but it does feel demeaning sometimes.

"Me gusta esa risa. Jejejejeje."

"You know why Mexicans call Americans 'gringos'? ... Would you like to?"

Rodolfo doesn't always try to make you laugh - he still gets a bit disoriented that you're no physically there (which means he can't see your face, but what is he gonna do about it?). His humbleness and large range of jokes really comes through, especially since he'd been the family entertainer at parties. If you can understand simple jokes in Spanish? You're practically set to be unable to keep a straight face, and he loves it. (Even if he doesn't understand it, he'll turn it into a mini lesson so you do)

"¿Qué dijo el gato cuando chocó su carro? 'Miau-to.'"

Nikolai has a handful of Russian jokes at his disposal. Are you completely guaranteed to understand? No, and he doesn't expect you to. If you do understand Russian, boy howdy is he gonna have the time of his life! You won't be able to breathe properly until he's out of sight!

"You see, it's funny because-" *explains joke if you don't understand*

Laswell is a huge fan of subtle jokes. She often makes small, funny comments that get light-hearted chuckles out of her. However, she also has older humor, which means you're less likely to understand unless you, too, are old (which isn't likely, but it's still a possibility). She likes hearing you laugh and really does try to get some sort of connection with you, even if it doesn't work.

"What did the chicken say when it crossed the road? 'Damn it, I missed the bus.'"

Alex is a funny man. He's aware of his effect on people and uses it to his full advantage. As a people-pleaser, he makes it his duty to get you to laugh as much as possible. If he doesn't make you laugh, he'll make himself laugh, and then you laugh. He's totally not putting all his effort into jokes just to get you to laugh or anything. He's just that guy.

"Me? A tryhard? Whaaaat? Psh- as if."

Farah has no business with nonchalant jokes, but she makes them work. While she does like the sound of your voice, she doesn't want to force it. She believes that intentionally funny words can diminish any genuine laughter, so she sticks to half-assing it in hopes you at least giggle. That's not to say she doesn't try to get you to laugh - she just does it far less, since she can't see your face (but she can just imagine the glee on your face if you get the giggles because of her).

"What is your type of humor? Asking for a friend."

Graves is unintentionally funny. When he tries, he fails miserably. He says a southern phrase that might not be super known? You're cracking up. He doesn't get it, but at least you're going 'teehee'.

"What's so funny 'bout me sayin' cattywampus? It fits the situation!"

[anime-potato-san]

Self-Aware!Adler finally getting to meet the player after some shenanigans that somehow brought them to the cod universe. He had it all planned out, an idea in his head on out it would play out. You’d have no one to turn to but him, you’d fall for him like he did for you. Hell, he bought outfits in his style for you to wear.

It was supposed to be perfect.

Then the player, after freaking out and calming down, just starts beating the ever living shit out of him.

Guess who’s favorite cod protagonist was Bell? Guess who did the Duga ending after Adler’s betrayal? The player was just screaming at Adler about how Bell was done dirty.

Adler was just doing the family guy death pose once his ass was whooped, feeling more confused than anything.

[hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform]

as promised, I have a another yandere! Adler requests(of a few), this one was based on an idea I had in my mind. Self Aware!Adler x Reader/Bell

Basically Adler become aware that he’s a character in a video game and starts to become obsessed with Bell/The Player. Starting out small, he eventually manages to find a way to get Bell/Player into the game to be with him forever

are you interested?

Hi!!! Thanks so much for this one, I had a lot of fun with it! Hope you enjoy :)

Your/Name: In

Yandere!Self Aware!Russell Adler x F!Reader

Warnings for: imprisonment, threats of brainwashing

For as long as he can remember, Russell has been aware that he's just a character in a video game. Such a concept fascinates him, of course, but not as much as who is playing it. After hearing some of the things other players say to her over voice chat, he decides it's his job to keep her safe.

Another win, another first place. Another moment where Adler gets to flip off the other, not as good players, as he waits for her soft cheers at yet another top of the leaderboard win.

He closed his eyes as the end screen faded, and he found himself back in the void, walking. He settled into it, ignoring his surroundings as he walked forward, at arms, surrounded by approximate facsimiles of people he used to know. Right now, there are two different versions of Woods walking alongside him.

He doesn’t care about them more than who they belong to. The two dick twiddling losers who had been on the other team, who were now taking out their inadequacy on her. Because of them, he wasn’t hearing her celebrating. Instead, he was hearing her voice shake, sniffling as she disabled voice chat.

“Losers. I’m just trying to have fun.” 

He can only imagine her expression. Her lips bent in a pout, her brows pinching as the joy fades, her favourite game once again ruined by some shitheads who can’t take a loss right. He’s never seen her, on the other side of the screen, but after the many, many hours she’s spent with him… he knows her so well.

The others walking around him disappeared, leaving him nervously clutching his King’s Ransom Krig 6 tightly. Had they been so off putting that she was going to quit the game altogether, leaving him alone in the dark?

His heart pounded as he heard her clear her throat. “I could play the campaign for a bit… Keep working on the Veteran achievement.”

Relief floods through him at her words. Then, it disappears as his consciousness gets pushed back into the code, essentially non-existence, for a moment, until he rematerializes in the Berlin safe house, his heart swelling again when he sees Bell wandering back and forth in front of the mission board.

What mission could she be planning to tackle next? What scenario would they be running over and over, watching Bell die again and again, hearing her get more and more frustrated until she inevitably quits, leaving him alone?

Unless… Could he implement some of the things he’d learned in multiplayer, here?

Adler had spent a lot of time testing his limitations, figuring out how to bend the world around him to his will. What else was he meant to do, after he’d figured out that his entire life was a game?

Well, that, and his fascination with the who.

Who was playing the game on the outside, existing beyond where he could see? Who had picked him out as her favourite? How could he use his unique understanding of the game to help her?

He’d been cautious, at first. Perhaps, overly. He’d slowly started responding more directly to what was happening in the matches, made custom lines for each type of loadout she had, or disarming an opponents’ tactical. He’d even gone so far as to create unique poses for when she won, which were now the only ones she used, never noticing that no one else seemed to. Rather than that, she liked everything he added, particularly when he yelled, ‘ahh, hot, hot!’ when he got caught by (but survived) a Molotov.

He’d done lots of little things to help her win. He so badly wanted to do more, but in the multiplayer matches, it would have gotten her banned for cheating. Here, though…

He reached out and turned the radio off, before walking over to where she was controlling the avatar of Bell.

“Bell. I need your help, let’s go.”

Bell stopped and turned to face him, staring blankly while she spoke. “I don’t remember… Did the last update add a new mission or something?”

Adler waited, then Bell nodded, and followed him as he led them across the safehouse, then outside. The door slammed behind them as Adler walked towards his car, Bell lingering behind him.

“Whoa… this is all new…” She mumbled, Bell’s head spinning left and right as she took it all in. When Adler reached his car, and looked back, she had stopped to stare up at the stars in sky box.

“Hop in, Bell.” He called out, breaking her from the trance as he lingered by the driver’s side door, waiting for her to get in first. “Go ahead.”

You leaned closer to your screen, squinting at the prompt box that appeared before you. After a couple of shitty matches, you’d gone back to replay some of the Cold War campaign, when, unexpectedly to you, a new exchange between Adler and Bell had played out. You’d played the campaign back to front, and you’d never seen it before, so you’d assumed that it was some kind of secret easter egg, or Activision had flipped the script and actually added new content to the game.

You had, of course, gone along with it, excited until you walked up to the door of the car. A bright orange ‘press to enter’ prompt had popped up, but when you clicked it, nothing happened.

You tried it again, backing away from the car and reapproaching it, skating your mouse all over the screen, clicking randomly in case the hitbox had bugged out and somehow ended up Adler’s ass.

“Ugh… must be glitched.” You muttered, reaching out to tap the screen like that would fix it. 

As soon as your finger made contact with the glass, you felt yourself falling. 

Thankfully, you didn’t fall far. Your landing was cushioned by a car seat, as the scent of pine air freshener filled your nose. The engine rumbled to life before you could raise your head, and a hand reached out to steady you as you instinctively reached up for a seat belt.

“Easy there.” A voice spoke, and you froze. 

When you slowly looked up, you were looking into the face of Russell Adler. 

“What…” 

“Hey.” He smiled, looking away from you as he pulled the car out of the gated courtyard onto a narrow road. “How’re you?”

“No…” You shook your head. “No, this isn’t possible.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think it would work.” He smiled at you again, flicking the headlights to high beams. The lights lit up the fences running alongside the road, only just wide enough for the car to pass. “Luckily, it did.”

“No…” You lurched around in your seat, watching the buildings behind you vanish into the dark. Your fingers hurt from how tightly you were clutching at the dash, as you hurriedly pinched your skin, trying to wake yourself up. “No, no, this isn’t happening!”

“But, it is.” He reached over, gently pushing you to sit properly in your seat. “Sit still. I’m taking us some place safe, I’ll explain everything there.”

You flinch away from his touch, huddling back against the door as you tried to process what the fuck had just happened.

You had been at your desk, playing Call of Duty.

You’d been in an online match, and run into a couple of real pieces of work who kept yelling out for ‘the bitch to get back in the kitchen’, so you’d quit and gone back to playing the campaign, once again on the fruitless hunt for the veteran achievement.

You’d been standing in front of the chalk board, reviewing the missions you needed to do, when Adler had walked up, and told you to follow him. You’d thought it was a new scene or something, so you had, out of the safe house to a car, the button had glitched, you’d tapped your screen, and now you were in that car. 

A sharp click broke you out of your thoughts. You looked around, trying to ignore Adler’s smile as he continued watching you out of the corner of his eye. Your heart leapt into your throat when you saw that he’d locked the doors. 

This had to be a bad dream. It had to be. You pinched your skin again, looking around desperately for other ways to try and wake yourself up. This car was old, surely you could physically unlock the door by pulling the lock bit up and jump out, right? You die in a dream, you wake up, that’s how it works.

“You’re not dreaming.” He says softly.

Your head whips around to face him. 

“That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?” The car slows, and he turns off the road into a car park. The dim sign on the building in front of you tells you that it’s a hotel. “That this is all a bad dream?”

“How… how do you…” Your words trail off as he parks the car and gets out, walking around the hood to open your door when you don’t get out yourself. 

You scramble away from him again, blindly reaching behind you as you try and climb backwards over the middle console. 

“What…” he sighed, removing his glasses from his face as he stared at you. “What’s gotten you so scared?” 

You hesitate. The existential fear of the fact you are now somehow inside your computer aside, you have good reason to be scared of the man in front of you. 

“I… I know what you did to bell.” You swallowed, watching him carefully.

“And?” He continued to stare, like you’d not given a perfectly sane explanation. 

“How do I know you won’t do that to me?”

“Oh, for god’s sake–give me a little credit!” He ran his hand through his hair, leaning down over the open door. “I brought you here to protect you, I’m not going to hurt you! Besides, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I don’t have any supplies for it, and we’re actually stuck in this moment.”

Your heart leaps again. “What do you mean, stuck?”

“This world… all of it revolves around your input.” He straightens up and smiles again. “As long as you don’t pick a mission in the safehouse, we can stay here as long as we like. Safe, uninterrupted. We can sit here forever, and just be… be at peace.”

“How… No…” You started shaking again, then screamed when he grabbed your leg and dragged you out of the car. 

“If you’re going to insist that we talk it all through, let’s at least get comfy.” He tries to set you on your feet so you walk in with him, but your legs were shaking so much you couldn’t stand. He half carried, half dragged you into the hotel, taking the key the blank faced man behind the counter offered, and steering you in the direction of room twelve.

At first, the room looked like any generic hotel room. It had a bed, a desk, a door that must lead to the bathroom, a wardrobe with missing doors, a window overlooking the carpark, and plain grey wallpaper. Nothing to write home about, but serviceable. Or, it would be, if your world hadn’t just been completely turned upside down.

Adler let you collapse onto the bed, sighing as he crossed the room to close the blinds.

You rolled onto your back, trying to take in some deep breaths. You wanted to close your eyes, but then you wouldn’t be able to see what Adler was doing, so you kept them open, digging your fingers into the sheets instead.

Suddenly, the sheets were fluffy under your hands. You dropped them, struggling to sit up to see that where there had been plain cotton-polyester sheets beneath you, was now a fluffy comforter. You blinked, and looked around at the rest of the room. The walls were now creamy white. Soft lamps were glowing on the bedside tables. A radio was playing music on the coffee table, which Adler was humming along to as he slowly removed his jacket and lay it over the back of the sofa.

“That’s more like it, huh?” He looks back at you as you look around again. The room felt like it had doubled in size.

“Did… you?”

He nodded as he slowly walked towards you. “Just a little touch up. It’s not hard.”

“Oh.” You blinked, slowly sinking back into the comforter, trying to guess what the limit of what he could do would be.

“You know…” He sat at your side, leaning over you. “You look even more beautiful than I imagined.”

“What…” You swallow again, giving up on your attempts at taking deep breaths as Adler is clearly not going to let you have two minutes without some bullshit. 

“Well…” He reached down and brushed your hair back from your forehead, his own glowing blond in the lamplight. “I’d figured you’d based Bell on yourself, so I had a rough idea… but look at you. You’re beyond anything I dreamed.” 

You slowly sit up, shuffling back against the pillows to force some space between you. “How are you…. alive?” 

“I’m not sure.” He sighed, but let you go. “I don’t remember a point when I wasn’t aware that this is all just a game, and that it revolves around you.” 

So… He’d been aware the entire time you’d been playing?

“At first, I just liked hearing your voice… how you reacted to the things that happen in the story. Then, I heard the things you said about me… what you liked about me.” His eye twinkled with a strange nostalgia. It made it sound like you’d said sweet compliments about him; not about how much you wanted to fuck him. “It made me like you, too.”

He waited for you to respond before he went on. “It was a bit odd, the first time you started playing in matches. Seeing blank copies of the people I’m supposed to be close too… it was a little existential. But I loved helping you win more. I did quite a bit, you know. Shrunk your hit box, helped you aim, made your guns do just a bit more damage. I learned how all of this worked, just to help you. So, I could hear you celebrate, cheer me on in the end screens.”

“Then I started to hear what other people said to you. How upset it makes you. How sometimes they’d make you so sad that you’d stop playing, that you’d stop spending time with me. It’s why I worked out a way to bring you here, so we can spend all our time together without anyone attacking you.” 

“You’re…” you pause, trying to find the right word, “… protecting me?”

He nodded, relieved that you’d finally understood.

“How is this protecting me?” You cried out, curling up into a ball. “I want to go home!”

“You can’t. I… I can’t let you go.” He whispered, crawling up close to you. “I can’t. You’ll stop playing the game, leave me alone forever.”

“I wouldn’t! I’d still play, but… I…” You stumble over your words. “I have to go to work.”

“No, you don’t. You hate that job, and it stresses you out so much. Here, you don’t have to work.”

“Well, I have to feed my neighbour’s cat. I can’t let him starve.”

“You neighbour gets back tomorrow. The cat will be fine.”

“But…” You think again, heart sinking when you realise how short your list of reasons is. “My family…” 

“What are they going to do? Who is going to figure out that you’re in here?” Adler suddenly raises his voice, obviously frustrated that you’re not coming to terms with it. 

But, how could you? You’d had your world shattered in less than thirty minutes, and were now staring up into the face of a man you know is capable of extreme cruelty. How could he expect you to just get over that?

Your shiver away from him, and a flicker of regret crosses his face. 

“Okay… I’m sorry for shouting. But, can’t you just give me a chance?” He takes your hands in his. They’re… warm, as they encircle yours, surprisingly soft for his line of work. The hands that tortured Bell, you try to remember. “Let me prove that I’m here for you. That this works, and we can stay here forever?”

You blink back tears. It’s unlikely anyone would come looking for you, despite what you said about family, and if they did, he was right. How on earth would someone work out that you were trapped inside a video game, let alone figure out a way to get you out? 

You swallowed roughly as your throat tightened.

What would happen if your power or wi-fi shut off? Would you both die? Would you return to the real world, with a fucked credit score and possible stay in a mental hospital if you were honest about where you’d been?

“Hey… hey, breathe.” He rose up, leaning over you as you started to hyperventilate. “Look at me, deep breaths…” 

You tried, as even though you don’t trust him, you can’t stay like this. Despite being transported into a digital world, everything you were feeling, the panic, the crushing weight on your chest, was all vividly real.

Eventually, you managed to regain enough control of your body to take in a huge gulp of air, the rest flooding back to you as you found yourself being slowly wrapped in his arms.

It was almost enough to make you panic again. When your body tensed, he tightened his arms. 

“No, no. Stay here, I got you.” 

You manage to fight off the urge to panic, as you doubt that you’re escaping his hold any time soon. Instead, you try to get comfortable, tilting your head and resting it against his shoulder. “Do… do we have to stay here?” 

“Why do you ask?” He brushed his lips softly over your forehead as you turn your head down away from him. 

“Surely we could be safe back at the safe house…” you started, before stopping as he squeezed you again.

“No. We’re fine here. You don’t need any of them, just me.”

“Oh…” You gasp, panic surging as his arms press too tight. “Okay.”

Your affirmation made him ease his grip on you, but he kept you on his lap, tucked against his chest as he leant back on the pillows.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself?” He gently rubs his thumb over your arm, catching and slipping under your t-shirt sleeve, the soft pad of this thumb rolling over your skin.

“What? Why?” Why does he have to feel so goddamn… real? So solid and warm, like he’s a real human being, and not code running on its own script.

“Because, you know a fair bit about me. I feel like I should know some things about you.”

“What’s the point?”

“The point of… us getting to know each other?” He frowned. “What makes you say that?” 

“If we’re never going to leave here, why do you need to know what I like and don’t like?” If you’re going to live in this single hotel room forever, why should it matter? Unless… You glance around at the room, so changed from when you first entered it. How far could that go?

“I suppose I don’t need to… but I’d like to.” He shuffles your body around so you’re facing him, looking up into his soft blue eyes. “I mean… I don’t even know your real name.”

“Why don’t you…” the question dies in your throat. He would know your gamertag, not your name. You don’t think you’ve ever said it aloud while playing.

“I mean… I probably could have found it.” He moved the hand around your front up to grasp your chin, angling your face even closer to his. “But I wanted you to tell me yourself.” 

“I… don’t think I should.”

“Why not?”

“I…” You drop your head when he releases your chin. It’s the one thing you have left. You shouldn’t give it up freely. “I don’t know.”

“That’s not a reason.” He gives you a moment to come up with a better one, then pushes you out of his arms, back onto the bed so he can lean over you. “Don’t you get it?”

“Get what?” You find yourself grabbing hold of his wrists, a small gasp escaping your mouth as he leans down closer, crushing your arms at an awkward angle between your bodies. The weight of his body pressing down on top of yours is another startling reminder that this is really happening.  

“That we’re not going anywhere, forever.” He smiled again. “You know what I’m capable of.”

You swallow. After his outburst in the car, insisting he wouldn’t, couldn’t do anything to you… Now he was threatening you with it.

“I’ll get your name, one way or another.” The smile dropped off his face, as he huffed out a breath. “But… can we just do it the easy way? I don’t want to hurt you.”

You shook your head again. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Look… This isn’t complicated. You’re here because I was your favourite, which made you my favourite, and I found a way to bring us together. You don’t ever have to leave me again. I don’t want… please, tell me your name.”

You blinked slowly, trying to not notice how easily you could identify the tobacco and leather scents in his cologne, like you were a character in a romcom.

What actually could you do? Even if there is a way out, it’s not like he’s going to let you take it. He knows far more about this world than you, and you don’t doubt his control over it. Could that control be extended over you, in this new digital form you’d taken?

His threats made it sound like he could.

The thought makes tears well in your eyes. You hurriedly blink them away before he sees them, turning the choice over in your mind. Maybe there would be a way out of this. But you’d never find it if he keeps you in this one room forever.

“Well?” He murmurs, patience wearing thin as your eyes flick upwards and meet his expectant gaze.

You swallow back your fear, and tell him your name.

Your/Name: Out (Part 2)

[starry-bi-sky]

Thinking about the CFAU and marveling at how much Danny and Jason care for one another. Does anybody else figure out that Danny is going to kill the Joker, or is that knowledge Jason exclusive? I can't see Danny being close enough to any other Batfam member to disclose his plans, but I wonder if he drops hints. They're a family of paranoid detectives. I'd be surprised if they don't figure out Danny has a PURPOSE for being in Gotham at some point. Whether Danny's able to disguise it as wanting to be closer to Jason or not is another burning question.

Its def Red Hood exclusive! You're right in that Danny isn't close enough to disclose his revenge plot to any of the batfam members -- hell, not even Sam and Tucker know his true motives for returning to Gotham, and they're his best friends right after Jason! And Red Hood knows only because Danny accidentally slipped up ;].

I do also think that the Waynes kinda think something might be up with Danny -- at least Dick and/or Bruce might since they're the only ones who actually know him beyond brief mentions of him. Tim knows about him due to his stalking, but doesn't really know him -- and Danny plans to keep a healthy, friendly distance from the family so he can carry out his plans.

It's not that he holds any dislike towards them -- quite the opposite. He appreciates what they do for Gotham and recognizes the hard work that goes into keeping their Rogues Gallery at bay (even if he is bitter about Joker, but there's an obvious reason for that) -- but, well. He knows they're the vigilantes, he doesn't want to risk them sniffing out his murder plot before he can even go through with it.

Luckily for him he can excuse any distance he puts between them as just being busy with life and trying to settle in, and they're not close enough to him anymore to find it suspicious. I do think they figure out he's back in Gotham for a reason, Danny's not going to exactly hide the fact that he's back to find some kind of closure -- but what that closure is?

I think the only person who might suspect something sinister going on would be Bruce, who saw the sinking rage in Danny's eyes at the funeral -- it was part of the reason he didn't tell him who killed Jason (beyond secret identity reasons). But that depends on whether or not Danny reveals some of his hand, and the fact that he was still holding onto that rage (somewhat unwillingly) all this time.

[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: when you're playing the game, and notice how your operators seem to move on their own, but you attribute it to stick shift, but it's really them keeping an eye out for themselves even when you're not paying attention.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: when you take a quick break to scroll on tiktok, either alone or in a party with friends, and the operators on screen seem to... move a bit more than you've seen in other instances. Their sway is more aparent, their idles include more detail, but nothing too out of the blue.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: who make sure they get good kills and are always aware, keeping your K/D in the positives and always using their "in game" senses to be aware.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: Operators who pray to have a new, fashionable skin, just so you can play with them a little bit longer.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: who laugh at your curses and shit talk, enjoying when you speak your mind, or listening to music if you do, maybe even just listening to your breathing as you play.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: who gush when you fawn over them in new skins, or over your favorite ones, who can't hide their pleasure and smile. It's an idle, you think, but it's always very convenient that they do it "on time" after you compliment them.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: Operators who can't help but feel jealous when you favor more... popular operators. Ghost, Konig, Gaz, Soap, etc... they want to feel even a fraction of the praise you give them.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: Operators who seethe when their base skin isn't available in the more affordable packs, wanting to spend time with you and show off their skill instead of being stuck behind a locked screen...

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: Operators who can't help but laugh anytime you play one of the guest operators, Niki, Snoop, Homeland, etc. It's so odd seeing them on a battlefield or even in the operator screen, but as long as you're happy, they adapt quickly.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: who up the ping on opposing teams, lag switching them, or even causing their games to crash just so you can secure the win. Any for you.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: who don't understand why their universe connects to yours through the game, but with this connection, they crave to bring you to their world. The fight that would ensue on who gets to keep you? That's something they know will come but refuse to accept.

[luci4theminorannoyance]

heyyy!! you may or may not see this so i might send it again but i actually have a self aware idea that i kinda wanna write myself too but i wanna see how you make it:

self aware kreuger and keegan who’s like in love with us or something and we’re like a commentary youtuber who does videos on icebergs, deep dives into video games or controversial/problematic things

HELP ik this is confusing so here are some examples

(i love both of these youtubers to death btw go subscribe to them they make fire videos)

and call of duty happened to be what we were gonna be covering in our video and we were gonna talk about it’s history, the problematic parts of the fandom, cosplaying on social media, and what cod became today and all that jazz

again i might resend just incase you dont see it but you dont have to do this !! i also plan on writing my interpretation of this and stuff so watch out for that hehe x

i saw this as romantic and gn reader would be great but its up to you !!

a/n: woah this is a super cool idea!!! I am not truly equipped to do all of this but I’ll see if I can make it live up to such a cool concept 🥲

Keegan:

-Keegan had watched you for months, from the screen as you sat on the loading selection page, or while you deeply dived into little bits of characters or chats or simply played to take notes… it was cute, watching you work so hard on something

-luckily for him, you recorded it in the same room too and it gave him an awful lot of information on his ‘world’ or at least what he was to your point of view and how others viewed everything about his life, other people, and anything related

-it was hard to accept of course, but Keegan didn’t shatter under the weighing pressure that his world wasn’t fully real. As he had you now. And that was more then enough for him

-he’d voice specific lines about lore you would otherwise have to Google for hours, diving into files you couldn’t reach and finding out what you had been oh so stressed about the night before while going through nitty gritty details

-he felt his blood boil just a tiny bit every time he heard you replaying videos of less then correct interpretations of himself, or of some cosplayer making him a man he wasn’t. It was nice attention though, he couldn’t deny that.

-oh he couldn’t wait to tell you all about what you wanted to know, or to hear about you for once… he wanted to know so badly what your favorite color was or why you do videos, but he could wait a bit longer to tell you, hopefully

Krueger:

-LOVES hearing your voice when you film, when you talk, when you sigh over new drama to cover or giggle when you get some traction on a post, since it means the very world to him

-he’s slightly scared you’ll set down the game as soon as your done with the video on Call of Duty. He doesn’t want to be alone again, not after he’s come to the conclusion of his life not being real

-what if you set down the game and don’t come back? What if you give up on the video? What if it doesn’t do well so you don’t post about call of duty again and you forget all about him

-makes him scared and antsy to tell you, to signal you that he’s there. That he’s alive or at least as alive as pixels can be

-he wants to hold you and squeeze you and tell you all the things you spend time researching or chuckle with you and having you hear him properly

-at least he’s figured out some semblance of a quick way to get to the internet, and he plays your videos on repeat, time after time to hear your voice and to see your smile

[nevadancitizen]

-> SEEING DOUBLE

synopsis: könig thought he was the only one that could hear and see you for a while. that is, until horangi mentions someone singing.

word count: 1.8k

characters: könig, horangi, player! reader, reader's unnamed friend

trigger warnings: mention of canon-typical violence, mentions of/thoughts of relapse (horangi’s past gambling addiction), hornagi is like obsessive too lololol (also forgot to add STILL insp. by/referencing @simp4konig 's self-aware könig piece)

notes: uh pov switches from omnipotent third-person könig to omnipotent third-person hornagi. oops lol also the temp. is in fahrenheit in celsius it would be ~26 degrees

König thought he was the only one for a long while. All these operators around him were only given minds through their code and pixels – König was the one with an actual brain in his skull. 

That was, until another operator heard you. 

You – and, someone else, maybe a friend from your world? – were singing along to some song unknown to König, mumbling the parts you didn’t know so well and bursting with energy at the parts you knew by heart.

König was waiting for the mission time to arrive in the armory, quietly listening to you and your friend. He felt some warmth from you – a small percent of what you’re capable of making him feel. Just enough to know you’re there, that you have eyes on him, to know the singing isn’t a delusion.

Horangi was also in the armory, his footsteps light as he peruses the wall of firearms. He plucks a Fennec 45 from the wall before turning it over in his hands and inspecting it – though he seems distracted while doing so. 

He turns to König and adjusts his sunglasses. “Do you hear that?”

König looks up from the stray skid mark on the floor he was looking at. “Hear what?”

“The…” Horangi gestures vaguely around him, then taps his earpiece. His voice drops to a lower volume, like he didn’t want anyone else hearing. “The singing. Do you not hear that?”

König stays silent for a moment. He checks over his shoulder to make sure no one else is in the armory before turning back to Horangi. “I hear it.”

Horangi breathes a sigh of relief, but doesn’t say anything else. He settles his ass on one of the thick, plastic ammo crates, fiddling with the Fennec 45, repeatedly pressing the magazine release before pushing the magazine back in. 

The singing stops, leaving only the music playing. Then, a voice is heard – “I’ve never seen Horangi do that. What is he, nervous?” 

And then, your voice – “Hey, don’t bully him!”

Horangi’s back snaps straight up as he looks around the armory. “What was that? Is someone else in here?”

König pulls at his hood so he can see Horangi better. “You’re really hearing them?”

“Yes.” Horangi looks at König. “Where are they?”

König shakes his head. “It’s best if we discuss this later.” In reality, König was dying to discuss this with another person – it was as if this heavy burden had been lifted now that he could talk to someone about you, about this video game they lived in, about everything while actually having something to back him up. 

Only a few seconds later, the siren sounds and it’s go time. Footsteps hit the ground and operators rush to the rooftops to be taken away to the hot zone. 

When both Horangi and König are secured on the helicopter, they don’t talk for a while, only sharing occasional glances (silent promises that no, the other is not insane, and no, this is not the start of a mass hysteria outbreak).

When boots hit the ground, König feels that oh-so-familiar warmth flood his body, blooming like a lotus from his chest to his limbs. He nods to Horangi to stick close. 

The music was turned down and all focus was on the battlefield – your silent guidance gave König commands to carry out, while your friend did the same with Horangi. 

Commands are barked out by the operators, you and your friend give excited praise, and the battlefield is a mess of noise. Bullets fly every which direction, sprays of brrrrrr-AT! echo off the abandoned buildings, some of which were still in the process of being built. 

This is urban warfare. 

As a SpecGru operator turns the corner, König pulls Horangi back behind a concrete half-wall (half because the rest of the wall had been sloughed off by explosions). To König, the touch is nothing, but to Horangi? Oh, that touch felt like bliss. 

It was you, striking a match and tossing it into the full burning barrel that was his lungs. Horangi pumped air into them like he was having a goddamn panic attack so that when his lungs caught fire, the rest of him did too. Your fire was slow, yet burning and hot all the same. It made him want to collapse in your white-hot flame and be consumed by you and not even care that he was ash and –

The feeling was gone, and Horangi was normal again. As normal as he could be when shivering in full tactical gear while it was eighty degrees out. 

König’s voice breaks through the haze. “Horangi?”

Horangi shifts so that he’s sitting with his back against the concrete half-wall. “Yes, sir?”

“You solid?”

Horangi presses the magazine release and pushes the magazine back in. “The voices… our voices. The ones…” he gestures to his earpiece. “I heard them. And then I had a hot flash when you touched me.”

“Focus,” König hisses. “There’ll be time for that later.”

Horangi presses the magazine release and pushes the magazine back in. He peeks out from behind the concrete half-wall, then ducks back behind it. 

“Ready, sir?”

“When you are.” 

The battle is easy for König and Horangi when a benevolent being and a lesser one are controlling their every movement. It doesn’t hurt that the warmth serves as adrenaline, a body high that keeps them both alive and bold. Battle chatter fades into the background when that song and your rushed praise fills their ears and makes them feel warmer than you already make them. 

When the last opposing operator falls, the message is relayed until every KorTac operator is back at the helicopters. 

“Wheels up in two!” the pilot calls out. 

König and Horangi move together up to the cabin of the helicopter and silently sit next to each other, hands working deftly to buckle themselves in. 

Horangi tilts his chin up and lets the back of his helmet hit the headrest. He takes his sunglasses off and wipes them of dust and a spurt of blood. His eyes wander over the ceiling of the helicopter, quietly listening to you and your friend celebrate. 

“Who are they?” he quietly asks König. 

König leans closer to Horangi, the hem of his hood brushing Horangi’s shoulder. His voice is quiet. “I call them players. I know the one who told the other not to bully you. We… I don’t think we exist on the same plane as them. I think of them as a god. They help me – us, now.”

Then, König leans closer and whispers your name like a single-word prayer. 

And, fuck, how Horangi wants to fall back into gambling so he could whisper your name into his cupped hands while he’s shaking the dice just as he rolls that blessed seven. His breath falters for a split second as he thinks of the divine luck you’d bring him at the craps table, your fingers – assuming you were even human, or humanoid – trailing down his arms, touching his wrist to imbue his hands with your power. He’d happily worship you if it meant feeding that rush when the payout is high, and… shit. Hornagi takes a deep breath before he quickly corrects his thoughts and directs them elsewhere. 

He doesn’t even know where those thoughts came from. Well, he knows where the thoughts of relapse come from, but he doesn’t know where the thoughts about you stem. He’s barely felt your warmth, yet in your presence, he doesn’t want to be the big bad tiger – he wants to be the housecat that rubs up against your legs and gets away with knocking pill bottles off the counter. 

“Can you feel them?” König asks in a hushed whisper.

Horangi nods. Your fire is a dull thrum in his chest, but your heart is beating right next to his nonetheless. “Yes.”

König knocks his knee against Horangi’s. “Focus on something small. Circular. Like a light. That’s how I see them.”

Horangi hums and looks at the ceiling. He focuses on a small red indicator light, his eyes unfocusing as he keeps eye contact with the tiny LED. And, slowly but surely – just as König said – something else came into view, slowly creeping into his peripheral vision. 

It was a small bedroom – a shoebox, really. Dimly lit by fairy lights. A bed, a desk, a dresser… Someone was on the bed, and the other person was in the desk chair. They were both holding game controllers, facing each other. Talking. 

“We need to play their Thanksgiving album,” the person in the chair says. 

“To what, pregame for Thanksgiving?” the person on the bed laughs. “That’s months away.”

And with that angelic laugh, Horangi knows that’s you. The person laying on their stomach on the bed, with your perfect smile, perfect fingers holding the game controller. 

You reach for your phone and unlock it, the screen lighting up your face. You tap at it a few times before too-loud music starts playing – a man yelling about how dangerous gas station tweakers are.

“Ay, turn that down!” your friend protests. 

You grunt and turn it down a little. The music is hard funk-trap, and you and your friend sing along. It’s something like – “Closed casket funeral, but Imma have to peek in; tryna get real, like, sorry, I was sleepin’!”

Hornagi quietly listens to the rest, keeping his eyes still so he can keep you in his sight. You and your friend prattle off the rest of the song, even going as far as vocalizing the instruments. 

When the song ends, you roll on your side and face your friend. “We should listen to their Halloween album next. Then their Christmas album. Then their Valentine’s Day single. And then start up their Thanksgiving album again.”

God knows how Horangi would let you. He’d love to watch you do anything – even if you’re doing nothing. He’d do anything just to reach out and touch you. Run his hands over your face and watch your nose scrunch up at his touch, your eyes squeezing shut. Your smile would be just like the one you’re wearing right now, accentuating the apples of your cheeks perfectly. 

And he’d love to sit with you as that artist’s Halloween album, Thanksgiving album, Christmas album and Valentine’s Day single play, even if he didn’t understand the slang the men used. He’d rub his hands up and down your back – anywhere he could touch you, really – as you explained what they meant when they said they were gonna “pop a thirty an’ get real sturdy.”

And maybe one day he’d make that a reality.

[wishesforyou]

Self aware! Simon getting you mw3 for free but was honestly hesitant since he knew the new campaign would destroy you.

It destroyed him watching it, knowing that his beloved friend is now dead and he'll have to look at players playing as him in the game and act like nothing happened

But he was there for you once you got through the campaign.

You opened a gift you had gotten randomly and got a free Soap charm for your weapons and a calling card, which was nice.

You thought Activision had given everyone this as an 'apology' for the half assed gameplay, never did you think it was ghost trying to boost your mood the best he could from behind a screen

[dearingdoe]

You said self aware price is able to see reader but how?

through your screen! I went over the process on my other blog but that blog is gone now 😥

what you see is planned code, like if price is looking forward on your screen, you see the right graphics and stuff if that makes sense

But behind price, what you can't see, is a bunch of makeshift code and your camera showing your pretty face to him

[certifiedcodbabygirl]

for self-aware!141....do they manage to sneak into other games???? i'm just picturing one of the guys showing up in a completely unrelated game--like a cozy game. Slime Rancher, Cat Cafe Manager, Power Washer simulator, stuff like that. I'm just trying to flip a house, wtf is Soap doing here

So in my self aware au, there's a bit of a timeline, but basically yeah

after he realizes you've caught on, he's everywhere.

doesn't matter what you're doing

he just wants to see you, lass :(

so what if you're playing minecraft, pocket edition? Here are some flowers, cabin's this way.

He is trying desperately to connect with you, this is all he has. You understand, don't you? Come back, he needs you.

[scaredyspooks]

I'm making these COD men too hot in my fics I've started having weird ass dreams about them and it's giving me an idea for a self-aware fic but I can't remember who first came up with that AU help

Like imagine if they reverse-isekai'd and found the person who's been writing filthy shit about them teehee

[jellybeansconghosts]

Tbh puff0o0/Shark’s self aware au for cod makes me giggle at the fact I see red (/hj) whenever I see someone on the enemy team playing as Soap or Ghost (slowly spreading to the entirety of 141) and make it a personal vendetta to kill them the first chance I get. (It started as a bit and now it’s just the nature of how I play the game, ((what’s more romantic than hunting the characters you love for sport even if it costs the objective?)

The idea of that type of behavior but these dudes r aware and witnessing it just like 😃😑😟

I already have a grudge against any König I see after being hunted down by one

Just the silly thoughts as I try to distract myself from braces pain

[anime-potato-san]

I Know Who You Are, "Bell." (Adler x Player!Reader)

I got this bad boy done, and I plan on posting my main fic here soon, along with posting this on ao3. My main fic is still in the works because I want it to be decently long.

Without futher ado, I introduce my self-aware!Adler fic.

Adler thought he knew a lot. He’s a man with a strong sense of duty, he’s been through the hell that was Vietnam, he’s in the Goddamn C.I.A. A man in his profession needs to understand the world and how people work. Adler should know what to expect, even when working with things like MK-Ultra on “Bell.” It’s not exactly a desperate need for complete control. It’s more… Control over actions, surely.

But just up and realizing that your world, everything around you, reality itself isn’t truly real? Or at least how you think it’s real? That it’s all some form of entertainment and storytelling? That it’s all a game? And that the “player,” or at least how Adler understands it, is fucking Bell?!

Yeah, that shattered his worldview.

It started with the small, almost insignificant things. Things like Bell walking around the safehouse like they were trying to explore every crevice of the place. Jumping when they caught Adler looking at them in the dark room, literally. Just weird things like that. He thought it was just Bell being weird, probably a side effect of MK-Ultra. They’ve always been “off.”

But then Adler just kept on noticing things. Things that were more than “weird,” so to speak. During missions, they would sometimes move as if they had done it over a hundred times, perfecting their movement. Looking down at dropped guns on the floor, as if they’re debating with themselves over which one to take. Unlocking the gate at the safe house somehow, as if they already knew the code, then just… Going in the back already and messing with that broken computer and game machine? He just kept noticing more and more, almost driving him insane with questions and concerns.

Adler isn’t really 100% sure on how he caught onto this, on who they really were, but that didn’t matter. What mattered is that he knew. And it wasn’t like he could tell anyone else on the team, especially Hudson. No, this would be his own little secret that he would solve on his own and figure out what to do next. He’s already a spy and a man with many secrets of his own, what’s one more? Whoever “Bell” really is, Adler would find out. And he’d never let them go, not when they’re this fucking important. This… Unknown. It makes him uneasy, yet… It captivates him. And dare he say it; it’s almost an obsession. An obsession greater than the one he has with Perseus.

(People who inspired this: @ladysouthpaw1213 @djloveyou3000)

[hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform]

Your/Name: Out

Your/Name: In (Part 1)

Yandere!Self Aware!Russell Adler x F!Reader

Warnings for: Imprisonment, threat of brainwashing, self-injury (brief), implied threats of violence

Adler and his beloved have slightly different ideas of what protection looks like. She finds a way to escape, and he's going find a way to follow her.

Note: the self-injury warning refers to Adler briefly pricking his skin with a knife to show that he bleeds. That is all.

You couldn’t tell how long you’d been in the hotel room. One of the first things you’d actually asked Adler for was a clock, but you’d quickly found out that it didn’t work, due to the whole ‘you-are-perpetually-stuck-in-one-moment-in-time’ thing.

Even without it, you’d managed to put together a kind of routine, as even though time wasn’t literally passing, you were sure perceiving that it was.

Your ‘day’ started with you both ‘sleeping’, now defined as lying in bed in the dark for a bit, as neither of you actually slept. Adler would get up first, restoring light to the room as he conjured up some activity for the two of you to bond over, which you would half-heartedly try, for lack of anything else to do. Really, all they could do was remind you what a poor facsimile this digital world was; or at least the one Adler was creating inside this room.  

Though, you could hardly call it a room any more. As Adler added more and more stuff to try and get you to like him, to forgive him for kidnapping you, the room had gotten bigger and bigger. At this point, it was more akin to an open floor plan mansion than a hotel room. It was so big, you could actually walk far enough away from him that he would lose track of you, even if it was only for a few moments.

He always came and found you annoyingly quickly, which was rather putting a damper on your plans to escape. As… nice as he had been, you couldn’t stay inside your computer with a rogue program, AI, whatever he was, forever.

You’d put your time to good use, at least. Instead of making life-long plans for this room, you spent your time working out how this world worked. You had some passing knowledge of video game mechanics, and once you started to think about the world in those terms, it had all started to click.

The guy in the front of the hotel had been a random NPC asset Adler had just placed behind the desk for that individual moment; almost certainly an enemy asset torn out of a random mission with no dialogue or personality assigned to him, hence his blank face and lacking response when you and Adler had passed him by.

Whenever Adler was creating things for the room, it took time, and something that looked suspiciously like a load bar would appear where he was staring off into space. As for the thing itself, at first, you would see a box covered in a warped, repeating texture, that would periodically jump into higher and higher detail, aka resolution, until it reached completion, and then you would see the full asset, just like you would if you were waiting for it to load in while playing a game.

Your most alarming discovery had been that the room had a memory limit. As more things were added, the things you’d used least would disappear. This had created an additional challenge for you, as you now had to regular check on your possessions to keep them, and do so without Adler noticing.

He had struck lucky on a couple of items you’d liked. Your favourite book, a denim jackets you loved the feel of. Not that you were going to tell him any of that. He didn’t need to know anything about you, especially that you had his car keys in your possession.

You’d picked them up off his beside table once you’d figured he’d safely forgotten about them. He wouldn’t worry about not seeing them, as he had no intention of going anywhere, and if he did, he would be able to just create new ones. Whatever the reason, he hadn’t gone looking for them, letting you keep them tucked away in your bedside table drawer.

You were itching to check on them, to make sure they were still there, but Adler was too close by. He was cooking in the kitchen he’d set up, still trying to trick you into telling him all of your favourite foods.

Eating here was a strange experience. You would get the sensation of the food in your mouth, chewing it as you tasted the deliciousness of whatever it was, and the second you swallowed it, it vanished. It was like, once you couldn’t see it, it no longer mattered, so it disappeared.

God, you missed real food. You were willing to admit, begrudgingly, that for all his faults, Adler could cook. But he had never needed to eat, so whatever he made was just about the momentary sensory experience, rather than sustenance.

One more reason you needed to get out of here.

You sighed, standing up from the bed as you glanced around the room, trying to spot whatever new thing was on the schedule for today.

“Don’t go far…” Adler called out as you passed him, still not quite comfortable with your habit of wandering aimlessly through the open room. “Food’s almost ready.”

You nodded and kept walking, placing your hand on one of the walls, fingernails trailing against the paint as you followed it around in search of the door.

With the constant remodels, the door seemed to move every five minutes. Adler seemed to not mind, as, again, he wasn’t planning on leaving. You were, and you were endlessly annoyed by its movement. Now, you had to work out a way to get away from him that would give you enough time to find the door, run back down the corridor to the lobby, get outside, get into the car, and hope that driving it would be as simple as inserting the key and turning the steering wheel, as all good video game driving is, that the route back to the safe house would be obvious; and that that would then leave you with enough time once you were in the safehouse to figure out how you could get out again.

When you laid it all out, it wasn’t a good sounding plan. A lot of it relied on luck and assumption, but you had to try.

The biggest issue was how quickly Adler could find you. Sometimes, you couldn’t help but think that the whole ‘him searching the room for you’ was just a cover to make you feel relaxed, and that he actually always knew where you were.

You told the voice in the back of head narrating your inevitable doom to shut up and glanced over your shoulder. You’d paused between two very full wardrobes, part of Adler trying to impart his taste for finer things on you. Now, they provided a perfect gap for you to see him turning his head away, failing to hide that he’d been watching you the entire time.

Fuck.

You almost kept walking, but your gut was suddenly telling you something was off. You took a couple of steps forward, reaching the other side of one of the wardrobes, looking at the room closer.

The sneaky bastard. He’d rearranged everything in the room to radiate out from the bed, so you’d never be out of his line of sight.

It’s like he could read your mind, and part of you was beginning to seriously suspect that he could.

You shook your head, and kept walking. Being in here was driving you crazy. If you didn’t get out before much longer, you’d end up in a nest of paranoia, losing touch with your own identity.

Then, maybe his tongue would slip, and he’d start calling us Bell, the small intrusive voice in the back of your head says.

You told it to shut up again, before admitting defeat and walking over to your star gazing corner. 

The title made it sound nicer than it is. Entirely based on the fact that you’d stopped and looked up at the sky when you’d left the safehouse, back when you were controlling bell through your keyboard and mouse like you should be doing, Adler had made one of the corners of the room into a  stargazing nook, AKA some cushions on the floor surrounded by curtains that blocked out enough light to allow you to see a star map projected on the ceiling.

You sat, squinting up at the faint lines drawn across the white plaster. They were so faint, they were barely there. If you’d not spent hours (or what felt like hours) here memorising the aesthetic constellations, you would doubt that there was anything there at all. The curtains surrounding you had definitely lost some of their opaqueness now that he was keeping a closer eye on you. 

You glanced over your shoulder, and saw him making his way towards you, mockingly weaving his path around various objects, like he didn’t have a direct path to you.

What would he do to you if he caught you trying to escape? He’d implied that he wasn’t against doing what he’d done to Bell on you, even after claiming that he didn’t have the necessary equipment to do it. 

After which, he’d taken great pride in showing you how he could manipulate the world around him and create whatever he wanted at will. 

You blinked back some small tears again as he pushed the curtain aside, and your next breath filled your lungs with the smell of BBQ ribs.

“Can I join you?”

“Yeah.” You nod, shuffling to one side as he sat beside you, balancing the plate on his knee. How he grilled in an enclosed space without suffocating both of you was a mystery. 

“You come over here a lot.” He broke the silence, as you continued to stare up at the faint lines.

“I guess so.” You slowly reach out for the plate of ribs, slowly gnawing the meat off the bone as he smiled, watching carefully for your reaction. 

They were good, and you hated it. Sweet smoky flavour bursting across your tongue, punctuated by the strange feeling of food disappearing from your throat when you swallow. 

“What do you think?”

“They’re good.” You nodded, setting the bone aside and watching it vanish. 

He smiled again, taking one for himself this time.

You didn’t reach for a second, instead resuming staring at the ceiling. 

“Is something wrong?” He looks up at you again. 

“No. Well…” You hesitate as an idea comes to your mind. “There’s… maybe something.”

“What?” He sat up, ready to fix whatever was making you sad. Or, whatever creature comfort you could pretend was. If he really cared, he’d let you go home. He didn’t care. He was selfish, and wanted to keep you here for himself.

“It’s just… these stars aren’t accurate.” You point at one. “That’s the southern cross there, and next to it is Cygnus, which is only visible in the Northern Hemisphere.” 

You hoped that you were remembering that right, or that he didn’t know anything about stars.

“Not accurate, huh…” He nodded slowly, looking where you’d pointed, before turning back to you. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about all this, really.”

And there’s you, getting lucky. 

“Do you?”

“I… I know a bit.” You mumbled. Enough to bullshit off, at least. 

“Maybe… you could teach me?” 

You glanced back at him. “I suppose I could… but how?”

“I’ll put something in.” He stood up, the plate of ribs vanishing as he forgot about them. “A sky light, so we can see the real ones, or… an observatory.”

“Is that not a bit too much?” Your heart is pounding. This is actually working. Your random, spontaneous idea is working.

“Nothing is too much for you.” He reached down and pulled you to your feet, guiding you out of the curtained corner. “Go on and rest, so it can be a surprise.”

“Okay…” You lingered for a moment as he turned back, ready to do whatever it is he does while creating things. To you, it just looks like he’s staring off into the distance. “Thank you.”

Your words caught him off guard, for just a moment. He glanced back and smiles, then his eyes glazed over, and he appears to be staring blankly at the wall. 

You hurried back to the bed, suddenly thankful for the direct paths, dropping to your knees as you opened the drawer to see it the key was still there. 

It was. Thank Christ.

You glanced back towards him, still unmoving in the far corner.

It’s something else that catches your eye.

The door is on the wall right next to you, where it was originally before the room grew to its current unbelievable proportions.

If that’s not a sign…

You tucked the car keys into your jeans pocket, pulled on your boots and quietly left the room, shutting the door very gently behind you.

The corridor outside is so dark compared to the room it takes your eyes a minute to adjust. You walked speedily down it, splitting the difference between moving quietly and moving fast, all the while glancing back towards the room. 

Nothing happened by the time you reach the empty lobby. The door hasn’t opened, Adler hasn’t appeared, so you broke into a run as you left the building. 

You easily identified Adler’s car, by it being the only one parked in the bays in front of the building.

Overhead, it’s still nighttime. The same sky from when you arrived here, as Adler said, frozen, suspended in time without your input.

How exactly you were going to use that knowledge to get yourself out of here, you didn’t know yet, but you had this gut feeling that you had to get back to the safe house, to the mission board. It’s where you had been when this all started, and it was the main way Bell, via your input, moved the campaign along. There had to be something there.

The car started automatically when you got into it. No key, no ignition necessary. As soon as you touched the steering wheel, the engine purred, and you slowly reversed out of the parking space. Despite the gear shift visible next to you, you only had two pedals: an accelerator, and a break/reverse. Just like how the cars in Warzone worked.

Despite your driving track record in game, you were able to get out of the carpark and back onto the narrow road that cut a path straight back to the safehouse.

In fact, when you looked closer, the roads didn’t even continue on beyond where you were driving. They just… ended, as there’d never been a need to generate more road, since no one was ever supposed to see them. In theory, no one should have been able to leave the level box of the safe house, but Adler had shown that he at least clearly could surpass those things.

After a few minutes, you pulled up in front of the safe house. You didn’t bother parking nicely, just got out, leaving the engine running and the door hanging open. Every second counted, given that you were running on a vague hope that you would be able to find The Thing that would let you out of here.

You pushed open the door, eyes flicking about the room. Nothing had changed. The safehouse still looked like it always did in the pre-Cuba briefing. Hudson was endlessly talking on the phone. Woods and Mason were speaking quietly over some gear in the back of their van. Lazar and Sims were no-where to be seen, but their voices could be heard deeper inside the safehouse. Park was in the office, talking to someone. 

Someone who wasn’t here. You paused, and looked down at the floor.

You remembered this. In this briefing, Hudson had his little round up, then everyone split off, and Park took Adler off into the office to have a word. 

She hands him a file, and, as they walk, a piece of paper hinting at what they’d done to Bell falls out. 

It’s there now. 

You grabbed it from where it lay on the floor, eyes skating over the familiar words as you hurried over to the mission board, pages fluttering under the nearby fan. 

No one seems to react to your presence. That was Adler’s job, of course. He would keep tabs on Bell depending on the answers you gave. But he wasn’t here. 

You started at the board, fighting back the helpless feeling of doom, suppressing the voice in the back of your head that was ranting on about how you didn’t know what you were doing, why did you even try, he was going to catch you and he wouldn’t be as nice this time. 

You shook your head and looked down at the page in your hands again. The sides were already crinkled as you gripped it tightly, lifting it closer to your face. The movement happened to place the page between your face, and a particularly bright desk lamp. Suddenly, clear as day on the page, one of the letters was glowing orange. 

You lowered it. The glowing stopped. You raised it again, and it returned. 

That had to be something. There was nothing out there that could top sheer dumb luck. 

You tore the glowing ‘I’ out from the page and pinned it to the board. Then, one by one, you pulled the other documents down, and held them up to the light, too.

Page by page, more letters appeared.  

Torn paper was scattered about your feet as you stared at the letters, pinned up in the random order you’d found them. You’d started with an I, now you had an A, an E, three Os, two Ts, a W, an H, an M and an N, and a G.

All the letters you needed to spell out the only real thought you’d had for weeks.

“I… want… to… go… home.” You read out as you lay out the letters in the right order. As soon as you’d put the E in place, the torn pieces of paper flashed bright orange, and were replaced by a glowing text box, like the one you’d seen before. The ‘Press to enter’ that you had gotten into this mess in the first place.

You reached for it, breath held, almost waiting for someone to stop you.

No one did. Your fingers hit the warm fuzzy pixels, and you gasped as the tingling warmth spread rapidly through your body. You looked down at your hands, and realised that you’re now glowing the same orange colour.

Adler sees it too as he slams the door open, tumbling into the safehouse covered in mud and leaves, half a second too late. 

When he calls out your name, you’re already gone. 

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

“Fuck, that hurt…” You mumbled as you slid out of your desk chair and onto the floor, after slamming into it face first.

Wait… your chair. Your floor. You were back home. 

You sprung up and looked around you. Yes, you were back in your crappy apartment, that you’d never been so happy to see.

You’d done it. By sheer luck, you’d done it. Whatever strange nightmare that had been, that your favourite video game character had gained sentience and pulled you into the game was over, soon to be forgotten. 

You immediately turned back to your computer, closing the game and ejecting the disk. You snapped it, dropping to the pieces to the floor as adrenaline surged through you and you yanked your whole PC from the wall, half dropping half placing it on the floor as you ripped the cover off, tearing out components one by one until you got to the hard drive, which you carried to your storage cupboard, wrapped in a tea towel and raised a hammer over it.

You took in a deep breath, then brought the hammer down on it, over and over, until it was in lots of little shiny pieces; your flat’s quiet hours be damned. 

When you slowed, you took a deep breath, the adrenaline slowly tapering out of your system as you unwrapped the towel and poked the broken pieces with the hammer, relaxing as you took in the surprisingly easy destruction.

Whatever he had been, rogue code, a ghost, a spirit, he, it wasn’t getting to you ever again. 

You took the broken pieces back to your room, and crammed it along with everything else and the broken disc back into the PC frame, balancing it awkwardly in your arms as you left your flat and took the stairs down to the bins in the garage.

You hefted it over the edge of the big commercial general waste bin, relishing in the cracking sound of things breaking further on the heavy landing. All gone, ready to be buried in the avalanche of black bags tomorrow would bring.

It was hardly the proper way to dispose of electronics, but it was the fastest way to get it completely out of your life.

Part of you felt that that should have been harder. You had just thrown a couple thousand quid that you spent less than six months ago out without a second thought.

Another part of you felt that it was a small price to pay for freedom.

Besides, you could save up again. Most of your games were tied to your steam account, and could easily be downloaded to a new computer. And, by the time you saved up, it would have been time to upgrade anyway. 

It’s not like there had been anything important on there. That had been exclusively your gaming computer. Everything important you kept on your old laptop hard drive.

You could easily redo save data. Besides that, what had you really lost?

Maybe this whole thing was some kind of sign you should spend less time playing video games in general.

You slowly mounted the last flight of stairs back up to your apartment. 

Whatever you did, he was gone. The system he lived in was destroyed. 

You’d never know how much time you’d lost there, mentally at least, as your phone declared you’d only been gone a couple of hours. 

Whatever had caused that difference, as you didn’t understand enough about physics to make even an educated guess like time dilation or some equally smart sounding thing. 

All that aside, you were free. And, you were going to do whatever it took to stay that way, even if it meant you had to give up video games forever.

You paused just inside the door of your flat when you entered it again. It felt like you were looking over the place with fresh eyes, over the things you’d taken for granted, the petty annoyances you’d gotten used to, the issues you’d gotten sick of chasing your landlord over.

That the kitchen was tiny, and you could barely move in it, that you didn’t have space for a living room- hell, the entire flat was just too damn small. You had a kitchen, a dining room slash hallway, a bedroom slash office and a bathroom. 

You’d basically only moved here because the rent had been cheap. You’d been desperate to save money. Not quite live with mould desperate, but enough to live in two and a half rooms for over four years.

Across those years, that rent had increased. Slowly, to be sure, but if you objectively looked at how much you were paying now, you would almost certainly be able to afford a nicer place for the same amount.

Maybe nicer, if you moved out of the inner city. That had been the other benefit, that it was basically around the corner from your job. One you’d left ages ago in favour of a fully remote position.  

Maybe this was a wake-up call for your entire life. You needed to start doing better by yourself. Get back into an in-person role, or at least hybrid so you’d get regular human contact other than the delivery guy, or your cat sitter needing neighbour. You should move to a bigger place, with a kitchen that you actually liked being in, so you would use it, not the one where you had to swap your microwave and toaster around constantly depending on which you needed. 

Maybe, you could finally start writing that book you’d wanted to, or make your own games. 

You took a deep breath, and decided. All those things you’d put off, you were going to do them. Maybe not tomorrow, but you were going to get yourself to them sooner rather than later. 

And, you ask yourself as you walked through your apartment, tiny and mundanely normal, what is a better first step than a good night’s sleep?

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

You’d done it. They’d called you back, and the promotion was yours. You were bursting with excitement, but you couldn’t just burst out and tell everyone on the bus. That might be a little weird. Instead, you would have to wait until you could tell Buster, your excitable old Irish wolfhound. You’d tell your friends, your family tomorrow, once you’d signed the contract signed, something about counting chickens before they hatch, you know?

The bus rumbled around the corner and onto your street, so you pressed the button and slid up out of your seat, carefully walking down the aisle as the driver slowed to a stop. You thanked her, and stepped down into the bright evening air, retrieving your house keys as the bus rolled away behind you. 

It still didn’t sound real to you, that you had house keys. When did the feeling of accomplishment wear off, you wonder, that you’d managed to buy a house? 

Maybe it never did, especially when it marked such a major milestone in your personal growth after that strange, distant night you’d had in your old apartment. 

Over the past couple of years, you’d gone back and forth over what had really happened. Had it simply been a dream, or had it been real? The day after, you’d woken up thinking it was a bizarre nightmare, only to find your PC gone, and irretrievable from the bin you’d thrown it in the previous night. 

There was a logical part of you that said of course it wasn’t real, but a deep, instinctive part of you still reacted harshly whenever someone so much as mentioned Call of Duty, let alone his name. Not that that was a frequent issue, but it happened occasionally, when you were on the bus, or out in the city in the weekend, or your co-workers were complaining about how they couldn’t get their kids to put it down.

You chuckled, turning up your empty drive and walking up to your door.

You didn’t notice the lights were on inside until you’d unlocked the door.

You were sure you’d turned those off. You did every morning, given how expensive electricity was here. 

Who was in your house?

You pushed the door open, peering in. Buster’s cheerful yip came from the kitchen, and his head appeared in the door, but he didn’t come to greet you. 

The smell of cooking meat hit your nose next, which you followed, almost in a trance to the kitchen door, to see who was there.

It was him.

Russell Adler was in your kitchen. 

He was using your pans, cooking your food. He had your dog sat at his feet waiting for scraps.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe. He’s not real, he wasn’t real.

You were dreaming. 

You had to be.

You dropped your bag, rolling your sleeve up so you could pinch your arm.

It didn’t work. Again. When you opened your eyes, he was still there.

But now he had seen you. It was too late to turn around and walk back out the door. 

“Hey.” He said softly. Like he hadn’t invaded your home.

“Heel.” You stated, firmly. 

“What…” he trailed off as he realised you weren’t talking to him. 

Buster looked at you a bit reproachfully, but came to heel. 

Adler watched, shoulders shrinking like he’d only just realised that maybe he should have knocked and waited outside.

“Uh… I just want to talk.” He gestured to the mess around him, the oven full of trays behind him. “Thought we might….”

“You presumed.” You finally responded to him. “Leave.”

“Don’t you want to know how…”

“No.” 

He almost took a step towards you, but caught himself. “Please? We’re on your side of it, your turf now.”

“Yeah, it’s my fucking house!” You snap.

“And… the reality. I can’t control anything here, so it’s fair. Please, I just want to talk.”

He glanced towards your dining toom. You leant back to see what he was looking at. 

Places laid for two. Candlelight.

Ugh. Where those roses?

“What do you think is going to happen?” You snap back. “You’re not staying.”

“I mean…” he looked back at you, the familiar harsh authority creeping back over his face. “How are you going to get rid of me?” 

“What?” You swallowed, fighting the urge to try and run.

“I don’t exist, legally. No birth certificate, social security… nothing. I’m a ghost, and I can disappear like one too. Who are you going to call about that?”

“I’d consider it if you’d just be normal.” You snapped back. “It’s ‘oh, I just want to talk,’ but when you don’t immediately get your way, you threaten me. You haven’t changed one bit.”

“I… I’ve changed. You should have seen me when I first came out. Woke up in a landfill, stormy night, no idea where I was or what had happened. No idea where you were.” He took a breath, leaning back on the counter. “I was furious with you. You’d said you wouldn’t stop playing, but you had, and not only that, you’d thrown me away, you’d tried to kill me! To smash me to pieces with a hammer!”

“Can’t kill something that’s not alive.”

“Is this alive enough for you?” He picked up a knife and pressed the tip into the palm of his hand. Your eyes widened as you watched the blood well up from the tiny cut, slowly dribbling out over his palm.

“What…” How the fuck was he alive, made of flesh and blood. Real in every sense of the word.

“I’m as real as you are.” He smiled. “And, you were right. It’s so much better like this.”

“What?” 

“Being real!” He stood up and walked towards you, trying to grab your hands. 

You took a step backwards, and Buster finally moved in between you and him, growling. Better late than never.

“I mean… look at all this. The food, the air, the stars… it’s better than I could have ever imagined.” He sighed, crouching down and running his hand over Buster’s fur, immediately calming him down. “You even kept yourself busy, setting all this up for us.” 

“It’s for me.” 

He sighed, straightening up again. “No.”

“Yes.”

“Did I not make myself clear?” He stepped closer to you as Buster scurried back into the kitchen. “You aren’t getting rid of me. You ran away, so I followed you, and now I’m here, and I’m flesh and blood, so you can’t throw me away again. That’s more of a crime than improper disposal of household electronic goods.” 

“Try me.”

“I am.” He suddenly raised his hands, caught himself, and lowered them. “I am offering you a chance to start over, when we’re on more equal footing. Give us a proper go.”

“Equal? You think I’m going to let you live here, sponging off my paycheque?”

“No, no, of course not. I have a job. Fifty-fifty, we could split it.”

“How do you have a job if you don’t have a social security number?”

“I worked for the CIA. I can make a false identity.” He glanced down at his hands, moving restlessly at his side. “You aren’t a little bit flattered that I’ve defied known physics and digital mechanics for you?”

“No.” 

“Can you try to be? I still remember all those things you said about me.”

“You… shouldn’t be flattered.”

“Well, I am.” He glanced back into the kitchen as a timer dinged. “How about that dinner, huh?” 

“Why?” 

“Why, what?”

“Why dinner?” 

“I mean… why not? It’s what people do when they’re getting to know each other. And, food is so good now that I can actually eat it.”

You stare at him.

“I made steak.”

“Okay.”

“What?”

“Okay.” You kicked your shoes off and walked into the dining room. Buster followed you, settling on his bed as you moved the candles aside. The flowers were roses. You pushed them aside, too. “Okay.” 

“Really?” Adler hovers in the doorway.

“It’s not like you’re going to leave, is it?”

“No. I won’t.” 

That confirmed your worst fear. You folded your hands, waiting expectantly. “Then, okay, we do it over. But, we do it properly. Get to know each other, different bedrooms, all that. Until I’m ready.”

“Until you’re ready.” He echoed. “I promise.”

He disappeared back into the kitchen, and Buster slowly walked up to your side.

“Hey buddy…” You rubbed behind his traitorous ears. “Wanna bet how long it takes him to break that promise?”

Buster didn’t answer. Instead, he stared up with eyes that said ‘I want left over steak please.’ You smiled, and sat back up. You wouldn’t give him until the end of this dinner, not that it mattered. While Adler had been out chasing a dream, you’d been keeping yourself busy. You’d survived him once, and you would do so again. Playing along was just the first step.