#it's shepard. it's all shepard. she's everything to me

[thatwildwolfart]

Okay year in summary time okay

[swaps55]

How would Sam have changed if Hannah had been the parent to go missing?

You ask the BEST QUESTIONS. This is such a good one.

He'd have blamed his father. You let her go out there. You didn't protect her. You didn't let me protect her.

Sam was 15 and stubborn as hell. He wouldn't have let anyone convince him his version of the truth wasn't true at all. The epiphany he'd had after his father's disappearance - when Hannah didn't come for him - would never have happened. She would die a martyr's death in his eyes, and those rose colored glasses would be so hard to pull off. The estrangement that happened between him and his mother would instead happen between him and his father, and Daniel wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it.

You could even make the argument that Sam doesn't wind up as close to Anderson, as a result - Anderson was Daniel's friend, not Hannah's, and would be a lot less welcome in Sam's eyes - which could change the ENTIRE course of history. But for this mental exercise let's leave that piece out.

Nothing would change until Alchera.

Whatever Sam thinks of Daniel, it was Daniel who raised him. Daniel who patched up his skinned knees. Daniel who comforted him after a nightmare. Daniel who gave him the love and affection Hannah never did.

I think he still calls for Daniel in the end. I think when he winds up with Cerberus, his instinct is still to seek Daniel out, in the way you still want your parent when you're scared and alone, even if you have a poor relationship with them. Maybe it's not them you want, but what a parent SHOULD be.

Except in Sam's case, Daniel is that parent. Maybe he has time to think about it. Reassess the things he thinks he knows. Hell, if there was a time for self-reflection it's after you've been raised from the dead, right?

My guess is that before he goes through the Omega 4, Sam sends him a message. Tries to make amends. Maybe if I come back from this, we could...fix it. If you even want to. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't.

I think you probably know what Daniel's response would be to that. His love for that kid is unconditional.

And then Sam does come back. But Aratot happens, and Daniel isn't allowed to see him when Sam is in Alliance custody.

Then the reapers come. Sam knows nothing about where Daniel is, if he's alive at all, and it's not something he can let himself think about.

What if, when it's finally over, Kaidan's face isn't the first one he sees? Maybe it's a face he knows, but going on 18 years older than when he last saw it. Maybe those words his father told him before he boarded a shuttle to Ares all those years ago weren't a lie. Think of me whenever you're afraid. You'll never be alone, and in the aftermath of the fall of the reapers, when Sam was very alone and thought he'd die that way...he wasn't, and he didn't. Because his father came for him.

[ifonlyyuweremine]

Captain’s Girl. [Part I]

John Price x Reader (Call of Duty)

Synopsis: After Laswell pitches you a favor to join 141, you're left with no choice but to accept. The only problem arises when you and the Captain start to butt heads, but if the two of you hate each other as much as you say, then why is the rest of the team calling you his girl?

Tags: Enemies to lovers, tension, military romance, forbidden love, smut, fighting, secret feelings, slow burn.

Word count? You know the drill, it’s long.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

‘Captain John Price.’ You skimmed the document again, his name catching your eye for the third or fourth time. The black ink seemed to bleed together against the crisp paper of your enrollment documents into Special Forces Task Force 141. It was a promotion, and an honor at that, special forces to begin with were selective.

But 141 was almost unheard of, a combination of British special forces and American special forces. They were one of the best, and you were about to become a part of it. You read the documents again.

‘All personnel will be working under John Price and answering to Kate Laswell, respectively-’ Your eyes trailed further along the mess of columned words, making sense of the legality aspects of transferring to a new team. You hadn't expected to be transferred over, not until Kate had contacted you with an offer. You could tell she was put under pressure by the way her voice strained against the receiver…

“Look, I need you here. Ever since Shepard went rogue, we've been a bit tight over here. John has stepped in as commanding officer; technically, we already have a sharpshooter on 141. But we could use a hand, just until we sort out our bearings. Then, if you'd like, I can transfer you back to your current team…”

You'd raised an eyebrow, “Laswell, you're acting like I'm the only one who can fill these shoes. Why don't you hire a private contractor from KorTac? I'm sure they have more experience anyway.” You heard her blow out air from her nose, amused. “[Name], I don't think I have to tell you how much these guys hate private contractors. We need someone who can work as a collective team, you know… integrate themselves for the time being.”

You pursed your lips together, weighing out the pros and cons. However, Laswell was one of the best people you had ever met, a long-time friend since the baby days of your recruitment. She was a woman of her word, and she had your back. And if she said this team needed someone, she was being serious. You sighed, leaning back, “Okay, send me the details, Laswell. I'll think about it.”

…You read the contract one last time; it was simple enough. You would be transferred to 141 at the end of the month; it was a year-long contract. Which, in a way, made you a private contractor, too. The rest of 141 was under the impression that you were there to stay, everyone except the Captain and, of course, Laswell, not that she was on 141. If they decided they didn't need you before the contract ended, you could pick to stay for the remainder of the year or transfer back to your original task force.

A sigh left your mouth; you picked up your pen and flipped to the last page. Etching your signature into the blank line. You had till the end of the month; as of that moment, you were officially a member of 141.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Well, you had to give Laswell credit where credit was due. It had been a few weeks since your arrival and you fit in quite smoothly into 141; you believe she called it “integrating.” To nobody's surprise, the team was almost entirely men, aside from Ferrah, who was stationed elsewhere. It hadn't been long since your arrival until you were bound to run into someone; Jhonny was the first…

It was later in the day and you were wandering about; transferring to a new location was something you never got used to, so you tried to get a head start on mapping out the place. Everything was similar to your last base, but you still felt a bit alien. A small room tucked off to the side caught your eye, and you followed in that direction. It was a small break room, a kitchen, and a fridge tucked away in the side; there were a few cupboards and a single run-down couch.

You mosied over to the kitchen, opening cupboards and looking inside drawers. You found the usual silverware, mugs, napkins, junk, and tea bags. You stopped; tea actually sounded pretty good. Sitting on the counter was one of those electric tea kettles; you reached for it.

Waiting until the water was boiling, you grabbed the first mug you saw in the cupboard. As you dipped one of the tea bags into the scalding liquid, the door handle jostled across the room. You heard him before you saw him; his voice was deep, a bit raspy, with a thick Scottish accent. Walking through the door came a man dressed in sweatpants and a military-issued shirt. His head was shaved aside from a cropped mohawk of brown hair. His face was pulled into a subtle frown with his eyebrows furrowed. A phone pressed against his head by his shoulder.

You locked eyes with him, the pale spheres of his eyes boring into yours. You could tell he was studying you, maybe trying to deduce if he had seen you before or if you were a stranger. Suddenly, you heard muffled talking coming from the receiver of his phone. You looked down at your tea, not wanting to be considered rude for staring.

The man's voice came again, but it was almost unreadable. It was like a different language, probably Scottish, and then it stopped. When you looked back up, he was standing a few feet away from you, reaching into one of the cupboards.

“Sisters.”

You blinked; it took you a moment to understand he was talking to you. “I-What?” You asked, caught off guard by his comment. He looked back at you, holding up his phone. “S’who I was talking to.” Your eyebrows furrowed, and you nodded slowly; it was an odd way of making conversation. “Oh, okay…You uh- don't look too happy about it, family troubles?” You asked, his lips cracked into a soft smile, and he shook his head. “Nah, she's just a bit dafty. She's auld, so she feels the need to boss me around from time to time.”

You nodded along, trying to use context clues to understand some of his choice words. You watched him fill his mug with some water you had just boiled. “Ah, I see. I'm not sure I can relate; I'm the oldest sibling, so maybe I do all the bossing around.” He nodded, one of his thick eyebrows rasing, “How many siblings?”

You smiled, “Just two, a brother and sister.” The man hummed, looking down at his tea. “Gotcha…” A silence enveloped the room, and after another agonizing moment, he spoke up again. “You a new hire around here? Can't say I would forget a face like yours, lass.” You nodded, glad that the silence had been put to rest, a smile growing on your face at his comment. “Yeah, new transfer to 141.” Suddenly, his eyes grew more comprehensive, “You're the newbie?” He said, astonished.

You chuckled softly, “I wouldn't say newbie; I'm just a transfer from another unit.” His face cracked into a grin, “No kidding, apologies, didn't mean to come off as rude.” He held his hand out to you, “Johnny McTavish, team calls me Soap.”

Your eyebrows raised, “You're a part of 141?” His smile didn't fade as he nodded, “Aye, sharpshooter and sniper.” You felt a grin creeping up on your face; this Soap guy was friendly. Way friendlier than you thought the people on 141 would be. “I’m [Name]. I'm also a sharpshooter, but I also work with mechanics and firearms. Soap is…uh pretty interesting call sign, any meaning behind it?” You saw something in his eye; maybe it was pride, or perhaps something more sinister, “Well, when you clean out a room as fast as I do, people notice. You ain't got a callsign, Bonnie?”

You shook your head, “No, I guess my name has always just done the job.” Soap pat you on the shoulder, “Don’t worry, we’ll get you one.” You and Soap just talked for the next few minutes; it was nice. The conversation ebbed and flowed without problem; he nodded to the door after your tea was nearly empty. “Aye, Bonnie, why don’t I take you to meet the rest of the team? Give you a head start on the meet and greet.”

You smiled, “Yeah, why not?”

…The more time you spent with the team, the easier it got; it helped that they made good conversation. Jhonny was…well, Johnny, good sense of humor but never knew when to quit. Ghost was quieter; he didn't trust you immediately, but you'd managed to pull a few chuckles from him and the occasional polite conversation.

Kyle Garrick, or ‘Gaz,’ was an all-around good guy, funny, polite, and incredibly talented. You could never get over the time that you had gotten drunk off your ass, and Ghost told you a story of when Gaz fell out from a helicopter and was shooting at people while he was swinging from the airborne vehicle.

And then there was Price. Captain John Price, you'd met Price a day after Soap introduced you to the rest of the boys. To say the atmosphere was tense between you would be an understatement. From the minute he laid his eyes on you, they went stiff. His whole demeanor around you reminded you of a rock; it was like he didn't even want you on the team. His voice went curt, and whenever you spoke, his eyes bore holes into your head like he wanted to shoot lasers into your brain by just staring.

You'd talk about it to the rest of the team, but they shrugged it off. “Maybe he ain't used to you yet; it takes a while for the lad to trust anyone. He usually puts on the tough guy act for new recruits.” Ghost had said; Jhonny snorted at that. “Tough guy act? Dinnae, nothing bout that; when I first joined, the man made me want to pull out my hair. Think that's more than a tough guy act L.T.”

Usually, this wouldn't have bothered you as much as it did. But for some odd reason, he got under your skin like nobody else could. And believe, you were no stranger to difficult co-workers and bosses. Even worse, your first interaction with him was incredibly awkward, and you couldn't have left a good impression even if you had tried. It was almost etched into your mind like a stone tablet…

It was your last day to set up, get used to the team and your surroundings before you started working. The three days you had to relax were mostly spent either in the base gym, or eating in the cafeteria. What could you say, you were a creature of habit.

Until this point, you had met almost the entire team besides the captain. Technically, you weren’t required to meet him until you started working, but you'd already met everyone else. So, you figured it wouldn't hurt to get acquainted. You pried the information about Price’s whereabouts from Gaz: “I haven't seen him up and about today; usually, he's around. It probably means he's hauled up in his piss-poor office. The guy hates it there but usually locks himself up there when he's in a bad mood or has paperwork.”

Despite his warning, you went ahead and searched for Price’s office. That was mistake number one. After a minute or two of searching, you came across a door with the engraving “Price” carved into the wood in neat lettering. You reached for the door and tried to turn the handle, but nothing. It was locked; you frowned and tried again. But to nobody's surprise, the door remained shut.

So, you resorted to the next best thing. You knocked a few times but were met with radio silence. Maybe he wasn't in there, you chewed on your lip, thinking. There was a small window in the door, but it was covered by blinds. You squinted, pressing your hands to the wood and moving your face inches from the glass; you tried to peer inside despite the closed blinds. That was mistake number two.

“Can I help you?”

You jumped. The voice came from behind you. It was deep with a smooth British accent; you whirled around to face the person. Your eyes met what was possibly, in your opinion, sex on two legs. The man was tall and built like a tank, judging from how his biceps and chest filled out his cotton shirt. His face was stern, with short-cropped brown hair and a muttonchop beard. His eyes a deep shade of blue, you swallowed.

Damn.

You didn't believe you had a type, but this guy probably would've checked off all the boxes if you did. You stood there like a gaping fish for a moment; when he raised his eyebrow, you snapped out of your trance-like state. “I’m-uh looking for Captain Price. I thought I'd check his office, but I don't think he's there.” You cringed; your voice was rushed, a pitch higher, too.

The man crossed his arms; god, he could probably pop your head like a balloon with those things alone. “Well, you found him.” He said plainly. You stared at him briefly; of course, he was the captain. Why else would he be here? You wanted to punch yourself in the gut. “Oh,” you breathed, “great then. I wanted to introduce myself; I'm the new transfer.” You tried to muster up a confident smile, which most likely had the opposite effect, given he was looking at you like you'd grown a second head.

“[Name], I know. I read your file.” He deadpanned. His voice caught you a little off guard; he wasn't irritated per se, but he didn't seem happy about this introduction. You cleared your throat, “Great then, I'm sure Laswell told you I was coming?” You were grasping at strings here, trying to prolong the conversation.

“Yes. I'm well aware you are here. Laswell has a way of inserting help into my team.” You paused; well, that wasn't meant to be a compliment. Your smile faltered, and you looked around the room like this was some prank. “She said you guys needed someone…?”

Price nodded, his demeanor unsettlingly calm, “That’s her opinion. Now, I respect Laswell; she knows what she's doing. That doesn't mean I always agree with her; 141 was just fine, this is just a precaution on her part.”

You felt your eye twitch a little; you transferred from your other unit, the unit you were extremely close to, mind you… for this? You joined out of the kindness of your heart, only for this jackass to say you were ‘just a precaution.’ “Well, I hope you won't hold a grudge.” You said a bit curtly. Price pursed his lips together in a tight line.

“Wouldn't dream of it; a year is an awful long time to hold a grudge.” He said, the malice and ego coming off his tongue so strong you could almost taste it. What was this guy's problem with you? You did the nice thing and took time out of your day to introduce yourself to him. And he was treating you like you'd personally wronged him. “Good, then I won't either.” You breathed, frustrated. Price looked down at you, his eyes devoid of any emotion. “Well, that's good to hear; now, are you going to let me into my own office or keep standing there like a human blockade?”

This guy.

Your palms squeezed into fists, shooting him a nasty glare. You forgot you were standing right in front of the door, the embarrassment making the tips of your ears heat up. You pushed yourself to walk away, “It was nice meeting you, Captain.” You spit, venom in your tone, walking away like a wounded animal.

Suddenly, you somehow forgot about how hot he was; at that moment, you wanted to smash his gorgeous face into a wall. You liked your new Captain a lot more when he didn't speak. But the reality set in: John Price hated you for some unknown reason, and you were starting to hate him back.

…You had calmed down since that first encounter. Maybe it was a one-off thing; after all, you did go when Gaz warned you that he may already be in a bad mood. Maybe you had jumped the gun? and Price didn't hate you.

News flash: He hated you, and it was not a one-off encounter.

You were now a month into your new job, and if it weren't for Price, you would've actually been enjoying your time with 141. Everyone else was great; they were warming up to the idea of having you as a teammate. The training was hard on you, but you expected that, you were improving day to day. But no matter how well you did, you always had Price’s voice in your ear telling you that you could've done better. The man was running circles around you.

Slowly, you started to lose patience with him; when he laid out the bait, you bit. It was getting easier to react instead of keeping calm and passive-aggressively telling him you were grateful for the friendly criticism.

Even the team started to watch every interaction you had with the Captain keenly. They would tease you ruthlessly, saying his name while your back was turned just to laugh at the way your whole body seemed to go as stiff as a board.

“I swear the two of ya seem to bicker like an auld married couple. It's like watching my parents fight.” Soap had said to you once after an agitated conversation you'd had with Price moments before.

Was it your fault for causing some of the arguments between you two? Possibly. But he instigated just as much as you did; it was like a competition of who could get under the other's skin the most. And you couldn't even avoid him; Gaz wasn't kidding when he said he was out and about when Price wasn't in his office. He was like your shadow.

You were in the cafeteria? Oh, so was Price. You were in the gym? That's funny; Price was just about to do his workout. Training? He was practically glued to you and nitpicking everything you did. You were trying to go for a fucking walk around base past lights out? Price couldn't sleep, and as your captain, it was his obligation to make sure you didn't do anything stupid.

Intrusively, you wondered if he had implanted a tracker into you while you were sleeping. That had to be it; there was no way you just happened to experience so many ‘coincidences’ back to back. 

Eleven more months, you had eleven more months stuck with him. Maybe in that time, you could come up with a detailed plan on how you would murder, hide, and successfully get away with killing your Captain.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

It was one of those off days where you didn’t have much to do. Like the calm before the storm, 141 had an incoming operation; plans were laid out, and everyone knew what to do. All that was left was playing the waiting game before you loaded into the helicopter and landed in a checkpoint base in Urzikstan.

With nothing to do, you figured it wouldn't hurt to hide away in the break room with some tea and scroll on your phone. You rarely had time to yourself, so you might as well make the best of it. You peeked into the break room and smiled when you found it was empty. You made a beeline to the small kitchen counter; you'd managed to snag some different types of tea for yourself over the few weeks you had been at base. It was the floral and sweet kind that nobody touched, despite Ghost's comment that: “It's not real tea.” You found it incredibly enjoyable.

As you turned on the electric kettle, the doorknob jostled. You looked up, and your eyes met Price. Well, shit. He made eye contact with you. Obviously, the feeling between you two was mutual based on how his lips dropped into a frown when he saw you. You stared at each other for a beat before you turned your head away.

You weren't doing this today; you were too tired to bicker with your captain over something useless. You stared at the counter, waiting for him to leave or speak. But he did neither. Instead, he walked over to the counter and grabbed a mug. The silence between you was so loud that the room might've been quieter if you were arguing.

He was close, not enough that you were touching, but enough that his presence almost tickled your skin.

You just continued to watch the counter and your mug. Glancing at the kettle, you almost grimaced; it was barely bubbling. When did boiling water take so long? The tension was so thick you could practically cut it with a knife. But, Price was the first to crack.

“Interesting mug,” he commented, his voice as it always was when he spoke to you. Dry. You debated not responding, but the silence was killing you just as much. “It's my favorite.” You said back, matching his tone. However, your eyes were soft as you looked at the mug before you. It was ceramic, with hand-painted fish drawn onto it. Cod, salmon, tuna, and swordfish, too, their colors vibrant compared to the barren beige of the rest of the cup.

He made a low hum sound, almost like he didn't believe you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you finally turned to look at him. You stopped briefly; his eyes had heavier bags than the last time you'd seen him. He didn't look as stern or unshakeable as usual; rather, he looked more weary, human. You forgot you were going to say something to him, “What?” You said, suspicious.

His eyes broke away from yours, looking down at his hands as they tore away the top of an instant coffee packet. Price emptied its contents into his plain white mug and cleared his throat. “Nothing, s’just that's my mug.” He said; his voice wasn't mad or accusatory. Instead, it was just like he was stating a fact.

You frowned, your eyebrows sinking further down your face. What was he talking about? You'd been using this mug for weeks; in fact, this was the first mug you'd used here, back when you first met Jhonny and the rest of the team. “That's not true; all the mugs in the cupboard are communal.” You pointed out, looking at him like you'd caught him in a bad lie.

He looked back at you, an almost smugness to his gaze. “Look at the bottom of the cup.” He said plainly. Your frown deepened, but you grabbed the mug and turned it over in your hands out of curiosity.

JP. It was painted in small lettering in the middle of the circular bottom. Your face dropped. Oh. JP, standing for John Price. It was his mug. Your face reddened as you realized you had been drinking out of his cup for the past month. Why hadn’t he said anything about it to you before now? He obviously knew, considering he'd seen you drink from it before.

You opened your mouth, trying to come up with a good defense. “But- Jhonny told me all the mugs in the break room were for everyone. Including this one.” You said, pointing at the mug in your hands.

Price raised one eyebrow, “And you believed him?” He said. The gears in your head started to turn; the guy had a point. Why had you trusted him of all people? You pinched the bridge of your nose between your fingers, “fucking christ Soap.” You muttered, primarily to yourself.

The steaming whistle of the kettle broke your train of thought, and your head snapped in its direction. You looked from the boiling kettle to the mug in your hand, a sigh exiting your chest. You held out the mug to him, “Here. It's yours, I'll get another one.”

Price looked surprised for a beat before his face went neutral again. He shook his head, pushing the mug back towards you. “No need; I've already got this one.” He grunted, nodding to the plain white mug sitting on his side of the counter. Before you could protest, he grabbed the kettle, pouring the hot water into his mug. Your nose scrunched as the aroma of instant coffee hit you.

He raised an eyebrow at your visceral reaction, “Not a fan of coffee now, are we?”

You cleared your throat, looking away from the blackening devil concoction. “I like coffee-” You clarified, “-just not that instant crap; it tastes like sewer water.” The curve of his lip twitched into a half-amused smile. Bringing the mug to his lips and taking a hearty sip, “noted.” Price hummed. You reached out to grab the kettle, but he handed it over to you before you could.

You raised your eyebrow; this was the closest thing you'd ever had to a friendly conversation with your Captain. You skeptically took it, breathing a ‘thanks’ to him. A comfortable silence fell on the both of you; Price could drink his coffee while you waited for your tea to brew.

Your eyes seemed to pull towards his direction as you waited, observing the curve of his lips, his nose that was just a bit crooked, and the coarse hair of his beard that thinned into stubble the further down his neck it went. You watched his adams apple bob as he swallowed his drink and how his large hand seemed to make the mug seem small. He somehow pulled off looking like he hadn't slept in weeks, which ticked you off somewhat.

He shot you a sideways glance, “You're staring.” Price said flatly; you looked like a deer caught in headlights. “I was…zoning out. And for the record, I was looking at the-uh wall behind you.” You cringed at yourself; the long pauses and uhs weren't adding to your credibility.

Price gave you a funny look, turning to look at the refrigerator behind him, which was most definitely not a wall. He turned back to you, “The wall you said?”

Well, shit, thanks, captain obvious. You frowned, giving up, “It doesn't matter-” you huffed, “Point is, I was zoned out.”

That answer seemed to satisfy him or at least force him to drop the subject; Price shrugged and took another sip from his mug. “Let's hope you don't make a habit out of it. Wouldn't want to add that to the other list of…qualities you have.” Here we go again. You raised an eyebrow, the edge in his tone all too familiar. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, “Which are?”

Price cleared his throat, gesturing his mug to you and your tea. “Theavory, for one.” Well, he got you there. You blew out air from your nose, the closest thing to a laugh you'd let him pull from you.

“Funny.” You said sarcastically.

A small smile tugged at his lips, “Yeah, well, just trying to lighten the mood between us.”

There was a pause.

The way he said ‘between us’ didn't sit right with you; what he said had undertones of bitterness, almost similar to the layers of an onion. Now, was it possible that you were reading too much into this? Yes. Was it also a tone-deaf thing to say, considering he was the primary reason you two didn't like each other in the first place? Also yes.

Don't bite the bait; don't bite the bait, “The mood you created?” You bit the bait.

He glanced at you, one of his eyebrows arching. For a second, it was silent, like he was mulling over whether it was worth it to engage. Price sighed, setting his drink down. “Look… [Name], if this is about that time when we first met, I was in a bad mood. I wasn't trying to be harsh; I'd just had a shit day. Nothing personal on you.” He craned his neck to the side, sliding a hand over his nape.

You crossed your arms. “You could've apologized,” you pointed out. Price paused, staring at you quizzically, “Why would I need to apologize?”

You almost gaped at him; his ego seemed to know no bounds. If it wasn't so irritating, it might have been comical, “You called my job a ‘precaution,’ and me, a ‘human blockade-’” You deadpanned, “-I don't like when someone downplays my whole career.” Price just stared at you blankly, his face morphing into more confusion.

“But you are a precaution.” He said, “That's the whole reason why Laswell put you here.” It was like he was explaining something to a child.

You huffed, “Captain. With all due respect, I'm a part of this team whether we like it or not. I don't want to be treated like an outsider- everyone else here seems to treat me like I belong here so why don't you? What's not to trust?” You questioned, your eyebrows pinched together and your lips pressed into a not-so-subtle frown.

“You don't belong here, though,” Price said frostily. “You're here for a year [Name], no more, no less. You belong to a different task force, so excuse me if I treat you as such.”

You stood there, stunned for a moment. A familiar feeling of resentment bubbling up inside you like the electric tea kettle. Your hands squeezed the ceramic of your mug, “Just because I'm not here to stay doesn't mean I'm any less committed to my job. I work my ass off every day to show you that I belong here. I just don’t understand why you’re too stubborn to even see that.” You huffed.

Price pursed his lips into a tight line, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer. “I don't have time to micro-manage everything you do. That's not stubborn; it's having other responsibilities besides making you feel included.”

Well, if he hadn't made you feel like a toddler before, he definitely was now. “Well, that's funny because you seem to do a perfectly good job at micromanaging everything I do despite your ‘lack of free time.’ And- I’m not asking you to make me feel included; I’m not an infant. I’m asking you to treat me with the same respect you treat everyone else with.” You hissed.

It didn’t surprise you how quickly the polite interaction with him turned into another bitter argument. When it came to Price, emotions ran high. Higher than you would like to admit.

“Maybe if you stopped acting like a child, I would respect you more.” He bit back, and you groaned, throwing your hands up in the air.

“I’m not though- I’m clearly telling you the problem between us. But since you have this…this grudge against me you won’t even listen to me.” You huffed.

Price shot you a look that said, ' I'm winning this argument, and there is nothing you can say to stop that.’ 

Internally, you wondered if getting dishonorably discharged was worth throwing hot tea into your captain's stupid face. Instead, you decided to look away, setting your mug on the counter with a sharp ‘clank.’ “Fine then, don't listen to me. That works, too.” You breathed through your teeth.

Price downed the rest of his coffee, throwing his head back and then setting his mug upside down in the small sink. He turned his whole body to you, crossing his arms. His blue eyes narrowed, and his eyebrows pinched together in scrutiny. “You want me to listen? Go ahead. Say what you want; I'm all ears.”

Your voice died in your throat. As much as you wanted to give him a piece of your mind, you didn't put up much of a fight against him, especially not with his ‘I'm the Captain, and you are one word away from cleaning toilets’ voice.

You pressed your lips together in a tight line, and the silence between you hung dangerously quiet for another moment. “Nothing, Captain.” You said through your teeth.

Price nodded, his eyes drilling holes into you, “That's what I thought. Now, it better stay that way for the duration of the next week or so help me; I will take away every privilege you have.” With that, he promptly turned on his heel and stormed out. Leaving you, a seething statue.

You looked down at his mug, still held tightly in your hand. You glared at the painted fish, “Fuck you.” You whispered to the watercolor salmon. Your frown deepened, substantially disappointed that whispering ‘fuck you’ to your Captain's mug didn't carry the same satisfaction you'd feel if you said it straight to his face.

Arguing with him was like arguing with a brick wall. Scratch that. Arguing with Price was worse than arguing a brick wall, a brick wall wouldn't intimidate you and then storm off.

You didn't feel like finishing your tea anymore. You grit your teeth together, dumping the liquid into the sink and watching as it slides down the drain. You had a few days before the mission, and you were going to make sure that you didn't fuck anything up. Lest you suffer the wrath of Price and your own self-doubt.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Shit!”

Your head snapped toward the voice, even with the night vision gear you had everything was difficult to identify. It was safe to say you weren't a fan.

It had been 72 hours since you landed in Urzikstan, and 4 hours since you left the checkpoint base. If you had to guess, it was most likely around 0300 standard military time. Which meant you and the rest of 141 only had another two hours before you had to evacuate and hop on the trucks back to the checkpoint.

Your orders were simple enough, break into the compound and locate the underground terror group that was allegedly creating a bio-warfare laboratory. While it wasn't concreated information British and American SAS couldn't risk not sending a team to see if the tip was accurate. Being the genuine pigs of the situation didn't sit right with you but you weren't employed for your opinion on what the government chose to do and not do.

Still, being sent on a wild goose chase or worse into a trap made you more on edge. Everyone had paired up in case this was a setup and because the universe could never let you win you were grouped with Price. Which brought you back to the present moment.

“Price whats going on? talk to me.” You said in response to his curse. Trying to keep your voice as low as you could while still being audible. You weren't an expert but typically someone hissing ‘shit!’ wasn't a good sign.

In the split second before he could respond you heard the click. Along with the sound of Price’s footsteps trying to get out of the way, then came the sharp boom of a gun being fired. Only after the sound had left the barrel of the gun did you see it. The building wasn't finished, half of the construction was halted, leaving rooms unfinished, walk-offs, and random piles of rubble. Hidden behind a cement pillar a floor above, looking down at you was a person. More importantly a person behind a giant ass gun.

Shit!

You immediately threw yourself out of the way, ducking yourself behind a large amount of rubble. Your eyes scanned for Price in the darkness, frantically making sense of the objects around you. Another fire. Followed by another one. You didn't have time to look for Price. You turned your body, shielded by the debris, and pointed your gun up. It didn't take long before you locked onto the figure, you drew your breath in and pulled the trigger. The firing stopped.

You peered up over the rubble just in time to see the limp body flop over the drop-off and slam into the concrete. You were met with a deafening silence, “Price you copy?”

After a moment you heard someone move, “Yeah-” Your shoulders dropped, a breath you didn't realize you were holding escaped. You never thought hearing that deep British voice would ever make you this relieved. “Yeah, I copy.” He breathed. You stood, carefully making your way over to the corpse of your attacker. Looking down at the body, their face hidden by a cloth and glazed-over eyes looking up at the ceiling.

You grimaced, it was like looking at a dead fish. You looked up, nobody else was above. The only thing remaining was the unaccompanied sniper.

“This guy was alone.” You said, eyebrows furrowing. “And his aim was shit.” You deadpanned. Your head turned, expecting to meet Price. But were only greeted by an empty space, “Price?” You asked looking around.

“Over here.” He gruffed, you turned around. Price was standing next to a wall, his palm flat against its surface. It was like he was leaning against it, your eyes narrowed. His left leg was slightly raised off the ground, something wasn't right.

You jogged over to him, “What's the matter?” you asked, because of the night vision goggles coupled with the amount of gear he was wearing you couldn't see his face well. However, you didn't miss the way his jaw flexed. Before he could respond you pinpointed the issue. The leg that was raised had a small bullet-sized hole in his boot.

“Shit.” You breathed.

This really wasn't what you needed. You and Price had to be out of the compound in the next hour and a half, being shot in the foot was a major problem. At least it wasn't an organ, you thought. “Can you still walk?” You asked.

Price put his foot on the ground, putting his weight on it. You cringed as he let out a quiet hiss, “Yeah just fuckin’ hurts like hell.” He took a step, he was limping but he could walk. Which was a small win for both of you. Just as you opened your mouth someone spoke in your ear piece.

“[Name], Price, you copy? We heard shots.” The voice was grave, deep, with a thick British accent. Ghost.

Price answered, “We’re fine. Bastard with a sniper nicked my foot. Did any of you find the lab yet?” He said through clenched teeth, despite your dislike of your captain you felt a little guilty. If you'd seen the shooter before Price would probably be fine.

“We just found it, nobody’s here. S’a fuckin’ ghost town… no pun intended.” Ghost’s staticky voice rang in your ear, if you were in a better situation you might have laughed. Your eyebrows furrowed and you frowned.

“That makes no sense.” You chimed in, “If this guy was here there should be more people. It doesn't make sense for only one person to be set up here.” You looked at Price. His head was already turned to look at you. It was a beat before anyone spoke again.

“Price.” A raspy Scottish accent this time. Soap. “The labs empty, no inventory at all. Everything is sterile.” You felt your throat run dry, the silence on the radio spoke louder than anything you or anyone else could say. Either they evacuated before the team had gotten there or the whole building was a ruse.

You looked back at the corpse lying a few feet away from you and Price. “They knew we were coming.” You breathed. The weight of your words seemed to carry for miles, but the implications might have been worse. You looked at Price, the same thoughts you had probably already running through his head. “We need to fucking leave, right now.”

Price gave a small nod, “Everyone get out. Gaz, call for emergency evac now. Leave the same way we came do not under any circumstances go further into this building.” Price demanded. Which was followed by a series of ‘copies.’ You started for the way you entered, just as you reached the empty doorframe you heard a grunt behind you. You looked back, fuck. You forgot Price was hurt, fuck, fuck, fuck. He could walk but there was no way he could run with his foot.

You doubled back, and as you ran to him Price raised his hands. Almost in protest, “I can keep up, I'm not immobile.” He exhaled, and you shot him an unimpressed look. The situation was bad enough, you weren't going to deal with this. You couldn't waste time and walking on a bad foot would only worsen it for Price in the long run.

You grabbed his arm and slung it over your shoulder, one arm grabbed the back of his vest, holding his side up so his injured foot didn't hit the floor. It wasn't the most comfortable but it worked.

Price opened his mouth but you spoke before he could get a word in. “You can't keep up and you know it. Whatever problems we have don't matter right now, we've got to get out of here. God knows what the people who were here before us did to this place. But we don't have time to think about that-” Your eyes met his, the red hue of the night vision goggles making his navy eyes seem black. “-I’d much rather keep you alive but I would gladly die with you than have it be my fault that you die. So shut the fuck up and move.”

That seemed to do the trick because Price did in fact, shut the fuck up. You quickly exited with Price. It wasn't as fast as you would've liked to leave but it was the best you could do with a six-foot tank of a man leaning against you.

A few minutes later you and Price successfully made it out. The rest of the team was already waiting a ways away from the building, you let out a relieved sigh. Just being out of the compound seemed to lift a weight off your chest and calm your racing heart. Price seemed to feel the same way judging by his taunt muscles relaxing slightly.

You made your way over to the team, Ghost was the first to notice you. He did a slight double-take as he saw Price, “Thought you said the bloke nicked you?” He commented, you gently released Price letting him lean against the outside wall of an abandoned house.

Price grunted, “Yeah well he nicked me good.” He said back, Ghost nodded. Soap and Gaz peered at the bloody hole in his boot, “That’s gonna be a pain to heal I’ll tell you that.” Soap commented, and Gaz nodded along. “No kidding.”

Price’s frown deepened, and he let out a breath. “Gaz how long till evac trucks pick us up?” Gaz looked out at the open area then looked back, “I’d say twenty minutes give or take.” That answer seemed to give Price a little peace.

A few minutes had gone by, and Soap, Ghost, and Gaz were all talking with you while Price leaned against the wall silently. You glanced at your Captain, gingerly making your way over you leaned against the wall a few inches away from him. You didn't know what to say if you should say anything for that matter. Making conversation with Price wasn't your strong suit, but you felt bad.

“So…you okay?” You asked dumbly, Price gave you a look that made you want to go right back to the others. He was silent for a beat before speaking. “I got shot in the foot [Name], you tell me.” He deadpanned.

You swallowed, nodding. Asshole. No matter, you decided to take it in stride, “Right.” You breathed, “I just… wanted to check.” On second thought maybe you really should leave, it was like you were communicating with an alien. And after your last argument with Price, you walked on eggshells whenever you were around him.

The stretch of silence between the two of you lasted longer than you would've liked. But after a moment Price cleared his throat and nodded, “Thank you.” He said.

You did a bit of a double-take, thank you? Price never thanked you. It was like he was allergic to congratulating or acknowledging you in any form that wasn't to reprimand you. You must've looked as confused as you felt by the way he glanced at you and then went on. “For helping me out of there, you were prepared for the worst back there and you still had my back. I appreciate that-”

“-you uh, you did good.” He clarified.

Your mouth was probably hanging open at this point, ‘you did good.’ The words hung in the air around you, filling your ears with cotton. Price your captain, Price your mortal enemy had praised you. He gave you a sideways glance, “Don't look so shocked [Name], you're still on thin ice.”

Ah, there it was, your shoulders slumped. It was better than nothing though, “Right, uhm thank you.” You said a bit awkwardly, Price gave you a small nod in return. It wasn't much, but it was acknowledgment.

After some time passed by you and the rest of 141 loaded into the trucks, starting the long drive to the checkpoint base. You tried to lean your head back and get just a little bit of rest, but after thirty minutes of failing to do so, you gave up. There was just too much in your head, too many unanswered questions. You thought about the man you'd killed, why was he there? What was the use of evacuating a building if you just left a single sniper with terrible aim lying in wait for someone to come looking around?

Did that mean they didn't know 141 specifically was coming? The question that worried you the most was the fact that if they did plan for you to raid the lab, who on the inside was feeding these people your team's operations? You shuddered. It was bad enough that commanding officer Shepard went rogue a few months prior. The SAS really didn't need another mole. Especially considering the amount of enemies the American and British military had made.

Your shoulders slumped, it didn’t really matter, what mattered was that everyone made it out. You didn’t want to think about what would’ve happened if the previous occupants had left explosives inside the building. It was better to just be thankful that nothing happened.

Your first operation with 141 had been a bust, but considering the circumstances you thought it went as well as it could’ve. Not counting Price’s foot.

Subconsciously your eyes drifted over to Price, his boot had been taken off and his foot was wrapped in white garb. Just until someone could look at it properly, everyone had taken their night visions and helmets off to get some shut-eye. Your gaze drifted up until they met his face, navy eyes met yours. You froze, you hadn't realized Price was awake. The two of you didn't break eye contact for a minute, almost like a challenge of who would be the first to look away.

“You make a habit of staring at people or is it just me?” He deadpanned. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, he could never let you catch a break, could he?

“I wasn't staring, and you were looking at me too.” You defended, it didn't matter if you were staring, he wouldn't get the satisfaction of hearing you confess that. One of his thick eyebrows raised, “I glanced at you. There's a difference, you just happened to look up at the same time.” He said back, calm as ever.

You half rolled your eyes, he could word it however he wanted to, but in the end, it was pretty much the same thing. “Okay, keep telling yourself that.” You hummed, matching his nonchalance. Your gaze dropped back down to his bandaged foot, “How’s the foot?” You asked, hoping he wouldn't catch you changing the subject.

Price grunted, his head lulling back onto the seat. You shot a glance at his adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down before averting your eyes. “Feels like I got shot in the foot, so…not great. It's better than an organ so I won't complain that much.” He breathed.

You nodded, “You ever been shot before?” you asked, what could you say? You were curious. He nodded, clearing his throat he cast his head down to look at his chest. One of his hands pulled up his bullet vest and shirt revealing the beginnings of his abdomen, right above his hip bone there was a small scar. “Two years ago, caught me while I was down. Took forever to heal, fuckin’ hurt like hell too.”

You zeroed in on the exposed skin, it was all muscle, no surprises there. The man was built like a 4x6 brick, his skin was shiny with sweat, and from what you could see his bullet scar wasn't the only one that littered his skin. Just below the dipped fabric of his shirt was the start of a happy trail. You swallowed.

What the fuck was wrong with you? A few days ago you were plotting how you could murder him and now you're ogling a sliver of his stomach like a horny teen girl.

You absolutely did not find a single part of your boss attractive. Forget your first interaction with him when you were practically gaping over him like a fish. That didn't count. This was Price you were talking about. Sure, he was conventionally attractive with just the right amount of ruggish charm to make him mysterious. And yeah, he was built like a tank, so what? And you couldn't forget about his stupid fucking British accent, who the hell was into British accents anyways? (You were. Embarrassingly so.)

Price looked up at you, the silence making you raise an eyebrow. “See something you like aye?” He said, amusement dripping from his voice. Your eyes immediately snapped back to his face, embarrassment churning away at your insides.

“You wish,” You said back. So maybe you found some parts of your Captain hot, that didn't matter. In the end, it was still Price. And the flames of hatred don't die out just because one's enemy is a little (a lot) attractive.

Price breathed out what sounded like a laugh, he dropped the shirt. “Keep telling yourself that [Name].” Your fists squeezed together as he threw your words back at you.

You glared at him, “You're so full of it you know that?” You breathed, which only seemed to pique his interest further. You were glad the rest of the team was either sleeping or so used to your fighting that at this point they tuned you out. Jumping off a cliff seemed nice in comparison to the ruthless teasing that Soap and Ghost would enact if they found out you'd been caught ogling Price.

“Didn't realize this would strike a nerve, any particular reason why?” He said, you grimaced. You could almost taste the smugness from his tongue like syrup, “It didn't.” You said through your teeth, “Then again, egotistical men are a pain to be around. Especially ones that think everyone around them wants them.” You grumbled.

Your words seemed to have the opposite effect, Price straightened. A small tug at his lip made you want to slap that smirk right off. “I never said you wanted me, but liars always do have a way of telling on themselves don't they?” He grinned.

Something flashed in his eyes, you didn't have time to see what it was. But right now, all your willpower was devoted to not picking up your gun and giving him a matching hole in his right foot. “I think I'd rather shoot myself than be anything but professional with you.” You said frostily.

Price hummed, the smirk never leaving his face and he leaned back. “Glad the feeling is mutual.” He spoke calmly.

Your eye twitched, he was pulling that card now. Reverse physiology or whatever it was, the ‘I don't have to want you but you have to want me.’ Well too bad you didn't care, you couldn't care less. If Price didn't want you that was great-better even.

“Yeah,” You huffed, “Super glad.” You turned your head away so you didn't have to look in his direction. Maybe you should've left him in that building, it was a tempting thought. The rest of the drive back to the checkpoint was spent in silence.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The base felt dreary, everyone was still in a funk from the previous night. Everything felt just a bit more surreal, nobody was talking about what happened either. Not that there really was anything to discuss.

The checkpoint base wasn't as nice as your previous base. It wasn't even a full building, there were a few small ones but those were mostly used to store weapons. Everything else was industrial-sized tents, making privacy a luxury. It didn't even have a proper barracks, just a large tent with several stretcher-like beds placed in rows. To be completely honest the entire thing was a pile of shit. But it was a roof over your head so there was that.

You sat at a bench in the ‘commons,’ a poor excuse for food sitting in front of you. Gaz sat next to you while Ghost and Jhonny sat across from you. They all had similar grimaces plastered on their faces as they ate their protein paste.

“If I have to eat this shite for another day I'm going to go into that food storage room and light the thing up. They got us eating like dogs.” Ghost said after draining the last of his rations. You half-heartedly agreed, humming a sound of approval that was accompanied by Gaz’s small chuckle.

Soap grinned, “Don't get yer panties in a twist just yet L.T, heard they're serving dessert paste too. Courtesy of Price’s injury.”

You shivered, it sounded just as bad if not worse. Then a thought popped up, you looked around the common space. “Hey, you guys seen Price? Isn't he eating?” You hadn't seen him for almost the entire day, which was a blessing for you but it did strike you as odd when normally you couldn't get rid of him.

Gaz shrugged, “He was in the medical tent last time I saw him. The guy was getting his foot looked at, he’ll probably show up soon.”

Ghost turned his head to face you, while it was a little hard to tell with his balaclava, one of his eyebrows raised. “Awful concerned about Price aren't you? Thought you hated the man.” Your lips curled into an exasperated frown.

“I'm not. And I do hate him. I was just curious.” You brushed him off, trying to avoid his stony gaze. Soap and Gaz exchanged looks that made your eyebrows furrow.

Gaz looked at you, “What about the other day when you helped him out of the building?” Soap was next to chime in, “Or that you use his mug all the time and he lets you?”

You shot Gaz a glare, “First, he's still my Captain I'm not going to leave him in a building where I think he's going to die.” Then you directed a similar glare at Soap, “Second, I didn't know it was his mug because you tricked me into thinking the mugs were communal.” You said through your teeth.

Ghost smirked, “Sounds like you care.”

Your hands gripped the table with unnecessary force. “I do not.” You defended, the looks exchanged between them made you want to crawl into a hole. Suddenly you weren't as inclined to finish your meal. You stood, grabbing your tray of half-eaten food and trash. “I'm not hungry anymore.” You said dryly.

Soap laughed, faking a disappointed frown. “Come on lass we were just getting started with ya. Where's the fun in leaving before the real jokes start?” You rolled your eyes, stepping out of the bench and walking towards the trash.

“Jokes are supposed to be funny,” you replied as you dumped the remanence of your ‘lunch’ in the trash. Just as you were exiting the tent Soap's voice called out to you.

“Oh, if you see the old fart, tell him his dessert paste is waiting for him!” That earned an amused tug at the corner of your lips, shaking your head in exasperation as you pushed past the floppy tent entrance.

You didn't even make it a foot outside before your momentum was halted by a larger mass. Your face met something hard, but also somehow soft at the same time. You stumbled back, gaining back your balance from the force of running into something. Or more specifically, someone. You looked up in dismay to see what kind of idiot ran into you.

It was Price, because of fucking course it was.

But it was Price with the addition of a single crutch and a newly wrapped foot. Your eyes slowly crept up to his face, the mortifying reality that you slammed right into his chest setting in. What’s worse was that the previous conversation with the guys was still very fresh in your mind.

‘Sounds like you do care,’ Ghost’s words echoed in your mind, haunting you like a…well a ghost. Ironic.

“Do you mind?” Price's words snapped you out of your trance. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. It was silent for a moment before your vocal cords decided to actually comply and let you speak.

“You ran into me.” You said lamely, the tips of your ears felt hot. Like lava was slowly being poured onto your head. Price’s eyebrows furrowed, his navy eyes studying you. Even on one crutch, he seemed to tower over you in a way that made you antsy.

“Why are you red?” He asked, the question caught you off guard. Making you falter for a second time, “I-What?”

Price’s eyes narrowed a bit, a finger pointed directly at you. “Your face. It's red,” It wasn't a jab, more like he was observing a simple fact. Suddenly you became hyper-aware of the heat spreading across your face. You touched your cheek, and the pads of your fingers burned at the touch.

Oh my god.

Your face was hot, it was flushed. You were blushing. Blushing. In front of Price.

You swallowed, feeling a bob in your throat. It was like you were in one of those dreams where you showed up to school naked. “I'm allergic-” You blurted out.

A beat of silence ensued, and Price raised a single brow. “Allergic?” He said, to which you responded with a hard nod. Think, think- what was a believable lie? “Yes… to the dessert paste.”

Price didn't look skeptical now, he just looked downright confused. “What the hell is dessert paste?” He questioned, while a good question, you didn't want to stand around to explain it to him while your face looked like the cover of a period ad. You shook your head, steering around him like a robot.

“Ask soap.” You said as you made your escape, “I'm going to the med tent so I don't go into anaphylactic shock.”

That was a lie, you were going to the bathroom to rethink your career and splash cold water on your face. Leaving Price a standing statue, a perplexed look on his face.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

A pack of 8 beers was slammed down onto the small table in front of where you were sitting. The bottles lightly clanked together, you looked up. “What’s this?” You asked, Soap stood in front of you with a confident grin.

“This is how we’re going to make it through our last 10 hours in this shit hole.” He proclaimed, his hands on his hips.

It was late, everyone but Price was in the sleeping tent. True to Soap’s words, in 10 hours you and the rest of 141 were finally going to load up into the heli and return to the original base. Thank goodness too, you didn't think you could stomach another meal here. Ghost looked over from his cott, “The hell did you get that from?”

Soap waved him off, smoothing over his poor example of a mohawk. “A magician never reveals his secrets.” He fished into his pant pocket and pulled out a pocket knife, grabbing one of the bottles he flicked the cap off with a soft pop’ “Since it is our last night, why not celebrate?” He went on.

You eyed the pack suspiciously, if it came from here it was probably shit beer. But it was still something, you shrugged. You reached for one, “I'll take what I can get.” You sighed.

Grabbing a bottle you snatched Soap’s knife to knock off the cap. Throwing your head back as you took a generous swig, it burned down your throat. The pungent flavor making your nose scrunch and your mouth curl. Soap did the same, smacking his lips as he swallowed. “Well…It could be worse.” He muttered.

Ghost and Gaz followed suit, walking over to your space and grabbing two bottles. After some time had passed the four of you had settled into a sort of circle, you were two beers in and things were already getting fuzzy. You didn't normally drink, mostly because you were a lightweight. But when you did drink, you got drunk. You were tipping your head back with laughter at every story, the warmth in your stomach making the tent somehow feel cozy.

Soap reached for his third bottle but Gaz swatted his hand away, “Leave some for Price Jhonny.” He scolded, Soap simply rolled his eyes and groaned. “The old man won't care, he only drinks at those shitty pubs. He's a stickler bout not drinkin’ on base, something about ‘not mixing business with pleasure’” He mocked, doing in your opinion, a decent Price impression. You chucked.

“I don't think Price takes ‘pleasure’ in anything, he's such a stick up the ass he wouldn't know fun if it hit him in the face.” You breathed, and while not the most articulate thing to say, your tongue and thoughts were loose enough that you didn't care.

Ghost’s mouth curled into a knowing smirk, “For someone who hates Price, you sure do love to talk about him any chance someone brings him up.” He said smugly, earning snickers from both Soap and Gaz.

“Oh fuck off will you?” You grumbled to Ghost, this whole teasing you about Price thing was getting old fast. “I say one thing and you guys act like I have some schoolgirl crush on him.”

Soap grinned, “You said it lass, not us.” He coughed abruptly when you smacked him in the stomach, making him lean forward to catch his breath. You glanced at Ghost who’s hands were now raised in surrender.

“Come off it [Name], we’re just teasing, you're not doing yourself any favors by acting with him the way you do.” He commented, which only confused you. All you did was argue with him, where was there room for speculation? The look on your face must've told them everything they needed to know.

“What do I do that gives off that impression even remotely?” You said defensively, they all exchanged looks.

Soap spoke up, “It's not just you bonnie, Price acts differently around you too. It just gives off a certain impression. Some people just take it the wrong way.” There was an underlying uncomfortableness to his words that you didn't miss. And who were ‘some people??’

Ghost smacked him upside the head, earning a startled grunt. “Fuckin’ twat, Soap doesn't know what he's saying.” Ghost said facing you. “He's already tipsy, don't take what he's saying to heart.” Soap was holding his head, shooting a glare at the lieutenant.

You shook your head, not ready to let it go. “No, who's some people? And what did you mean when you said ‘taking it the wrong way?’” Your eyes narrowed in on all three of them, waiting for someone to speak first. Gaz looked away, immediately giving him away as the weakest link. “Gaz what's he talking about?” You asked firmly.

He tensed up, glancing at Ghost and then back to you. “It's really nothing, it's just a silly rumor.” Ghost shot him a firm look, “Kyle-” He warned.

A rumor? What the hell was there to talk about? The last time you'd heard of a rumor going around about yourself was in high school, it wasn't a pleasant experience, to say the least. Your lips pursed into a tight line, something about how secretive they were being set you off. “What rumor?” You said, after a minute of silence, you slowly got more frustrated. “If it's about me I deserve to know.”

Ghost didn't speak, neither did Gaz, but Soap did. He blew out a sigh, glancing back at Ghost who was maintaining strict eye contact with you. “There is a bit of a widespread rumor back at base that you've been shaggin’ the boss. People started calling you Captain’s Girl.”

The pit of your stomach dropped.

You felt dizzy, looking between the three of them. Waiting for one of them to break, to smile and say ‘got you!’ but it never came. “You're joking right?” You said, laughing nervously, the longer the silence the more nauseous you became.

Ghost shook his head, his eyes hard but his demeanor a bit solemn. “We didn't want you to know for obvious reasons. Thought it would make things worse between the two of ya’ and it was just too far.” You swallowed, this was a joke. This was a joke and they were just teasing. When nobody spoke after the reality set in.

Of course, this would happen to you, you worked your ass off just to be respected in a field dominated by men. You were asked to be a part of 141. But all people saw was a slut who worked her way up the ladder by playing Miss ‘Hard to Get.’

“We tried to stop it as best we could trust us, it's just a little hard to keep quiet when word spreads fast,” Gaz interjected, his eyebrows scrunched in…guilt? Second-hand embarrassment? Sadness? You couldn't tell.

You sat there in silence, processing everything. “But- but I'm not. I'm not sleeping with him.” You sputtered.

Soap placed a hand on your shoulder, “We know you ain't. You don't need to listen to those people anyways, it's just barrack talk, people needing a story to make their lives more interesting.” A well of emotions started to flood your senses, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the gravity of the situation hitting you.

Captain’s girl.

What. The. Fuck.

This was Price’s fault. It had to have been, Soap said he was acting weird. Maybe this was all his elaborate plan to destroy your career and kick you off 141 for fraternization. It had to have been him, right? You weren't thinking as clearly as you would have liked considering you were borderline drunk, but that didn't matter. You shot up from where you were sitting, making Soap jump.

Stumbling you started to make a beeline for the entrance, Gaz also got up and followed you, much to your chagrin. “[Name]? Where are you going??” He called after you.

“To find Price!” (And kill him.) You shouted back angrily, storming outside before Gaz had the chance to stop you. Obviously, you didn't think this through enough because it was pitch dark outside. And Price was nowhere in sight, fuck.

Whatever, you could search this place for hours if you had to. He was bound to pop up somewhere, like how the tide is drawn to the moon you and Price always had a way of being pulled into each other. You stormed through the dark, almost tripping on your own feet once or twice in the process.

You'd been there long enough that you could tell what area was what. Even in the pitch-black cloak of the dark, you could feel your heartbeat in your head. It was like your body was pulsing with the rhythm of your anger. Just as you were about to start shouting his name a light caught your eye. You swiveled your neck so fast it burned the muscles in your nape. Low and behold it was Price walking out of the medical tent with his single crutch.

He stopped when he noticed you, his face a mix of confusion. “What are you doing? I thought I told you guys not to go outside after lights out?”

You felt every emotion rush back to you at the sound of his voice, the sight of his face, the fucking absurdity of the whole situation. Your hands clenched into fists, “What the fuck is wrong with you?! I thought you sucked before but I underestimated how much of a jackass you could be!”

Price stood there like a deer caught in headlights, so baffled he couldn't even speak. “Excuse me?”

You marched straight up to him, “You heard me. Apparently making my life a living hell wasn't enough for you was it? You sadistic fuck. Do you get off on torturing me? Is that it?” You spat. The heat in your face rising with each word.

He didn't say anything, his navy eyes looking at you like you belonged in an insane asylum. After a minute of silence, he breathed, “[Name]. Realistically I should be laying into you right now and giving you every single punishment there is for the rest of your stay here for cursing me out after lights out with no provocation on my end. But, I'm going to give you one chance to explain why you're acting like a screaming banshee before I send your ass straight to the bins.”

His words only ticked you off further, well two could play dumb. “You know exactly why I'm angry! No provocation is such bullshit. You- You just think I'm so stupid don't you?!” You were stumbling, your mouth felt heavy. It was like your mind was moving faster than your body could keep up with.

“Are you drunk?” He asked incredulously. You shook your head, “No! I mean yes I had a few drinks but I'm not drunk. Stop deflecting-” You rambled on.

His eyes turned to narrow slits, “I don't even know what I'm deflecting- you can't just start making a scene and expect me to know why you're angry. I'm not a mind reader.” He groaned.

“The name! The rumor- whatever you call it. You spread a rumor about me to the entire base that I'm sleeping with you! People are calling me your girl! The guys told me, everyone thinks I'm some slut because of you!” Everything in your body was burning, it felt good to finally yell at him but the words hit you hard.

You were labeled as the slut. No matter what you did there was always going to be a man overshadowing you just because of a preemptive notion that you were weaker. Something you'd spent your life fighting was now your reality.

Price’s eyes went wide, he almost resembled a wooden board. For a moment his eyes softened, like he was taking pity on you. “That's what this is about.” He breathed, “Look, I’m just as upset about that rumor and the name as you are. I don't know who started it but I can give you my word it wasn't me. You can ask any one of the guys and they will tell you the same thing.”

You started to speak but he raised a hand to stop you, “-I know it's not fair. But the damage has already been done, the thing about rumors is that they pass. And nobody thinks you're a slut. You're just as capable as anyone else on this team.” He said calmly.

It was silent for a moment. You didn't really know what to do or what to believe. All you had to go on was his word, which wouldn't normally hold much weight but something about him seemed so genuine. “I- how do I know you're not lying to my face? You hate me. And I’m just supposed to believe a random person made this rumor up when you've been trying to kick me off the team from the start.”

Price halted for a moment, his face reflecting a series of conflicting emotions. “I don't hate you, and I am not trying to kick you off.”

“Well, it sure as hell doesn't seem that way, even Soap said you act differently around me. I don't understand why you fucking hate me so much when almost all I ever do is try and suck up to you!” You shouted, your voice slightly slurring with how fast the words escaped your lips.

A vein bulged in Price’s temple, his jaw working with his growing temperament. “I don't know how often we have to go through this same conversation before you get it through your thick head. I don't hate you, I'm hard on you. There's a difference.”

“Well, that's not what it looks like to me. Especially not to the mystery person who just conjured a rumor that we’re sleeping together out of thin air.” You seethed, until now you'd been standing a few feet away from him. But somehow, amid the argument, you found yourself now uncomfortably close.

Price scowled down at you, “What do you want me to say to you?! That I'm sorry I also got caught up in some dumb rumor. That I'm sorry you got your feelings hurt because I was a little harsh.”

Your mind was telling you to communicate your feelings like a normal person. The alcohol and your heart told you your fist connecting with his face was the better option. And right now, your heart (plus the alcohol) was winning.

“I want you to fucking show me you don't hate me! You can say all you want that I'm just being dramatic but there's obviously a reason why I think you hate me.” You fired back.

The two of you stood there for a moment, his eyes drilling into yours. A scowl on Price’s lips and his eyebrows pinched together, there was something about the heat of the moment that made you more on edge. You were hyperaware of everything around you, most importantly you were hyperaware of your proximity to him. The night air was cold but you were on fire.

“You want me to show you? Fine.” He grit out, and before you had time to react he was on you.

His hand was on your neck, thick and warm. Pulling you close so that his lips captured yours in what you could only describe as ‘a hungry kiss.’ The coarse hair of his beard tickled your skin and before you even knew what you were doing, you started kissing him back.

Fuck. He tasted like smoke and whiskey, a woody smell clung to him like sap. Greedily your hands pulled at him, your fingers bunching the cotton of his shirt like he'd disappear. You'd kissed men before but never in your life had anyone kissed you like this. The kiss was hot, desperate, almost angry. His tongue slid along yours, you felt the drag of his teeth nip at your bottom lip and his throaty groan when you only pulled him closer.

You couldn't remember why he was kissing you, or why you started kissing him back. You didn't know why you were so angry, nor did you pay mind to the chance that anyone could walk outside and see the two of you.

You heard his crutch absentmindedly fall to the ground, clattering against the hard dirt. Price's other hand snaked to the back of your head, curling his thick digits into the locks of your hair. His nose brushed against yours, he felt so warm. Asshole or not this man knew how to kiss.

“[Name]!”

Gaz’s voice broke you out of the trance you seemed to have been under. Immediately you and Price tore apart, your heart jackhammered in your ribcage. You looked at Price, he looked at you.

His blue eyes were blown wide, his lips parted and shiny with the reminisce of your spit. A reddish tinge colored his ears and cheeks. He looked horrified.

You didn't fair much better. You probably looked like a gaping fish. You'd just kissed Price. Price had kissed you. You two had been kissing. Holy shit.

Footsteps snapped your attention away from him, Gaz ran to meet you. His breath heavy like he’d been running around for a good amount of time. “[Name] Price didn’t start the rumor- you left before I could tell you. I-” He stopped, his eyes darting between both you and Price. You probably looked as guilty as you felt. “I…uhm I guess you two worked it out?”

There was an awkward silence before anyone spoke, Price cleared his throat, quickly wiping his lips. “She’s aware… You two go back to the tent, it’s late. We leave early tomorrow so get a good sleep.”

You were still in shock, could you even move your limbs? Another silence hovered over the three of you like a looming dust cloud. Gaz awkwardly shuffled to you, patting your shoulder as if to say ‘party's over, let’s go.’ He nodded at Price, “Right, see you in the morning Cap.”

Before you knew it, your legs were moving as Gaz led you back to the tent. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, “You alright?” He said hesitantly. You didn't know what to say to him, you didn't even know what you were feeling. And you doubted saying, ‘Honestly I don't know because two seconds ago Price's tongue was down my throat and I can't tell if I'm turned on or horrified,’ was appropriate.

So, you settled for a simple: “I’m fine.” Gaz gave you a skeptical look, but he chose not to comment on it. Once you got back to the tent Soap and Ghost had already started to get into their respective cots. Soap gave you a funny look over his shoulder, “What happened to you? You look shell-shocked.” He laughed.

You didn't even have the energy to respond, giving him a disgruntled grimace in return. You fell into your cot, burying your face into the thick sleeping bag. Your cheeks burned, and the taste of Price still lingered on your lips.

Apart of you wished that you were blackout drunk, then maybe it would be easier knowing whatever happened would disappear by the morning. But his groans, his hands in your hair, his lips, they were carved into your brain. And they weren't leaving.

You had to grapple with the reality that Price had kissed you. And you had kissed him back.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Hey, wait! Don't go!

Well… hello there. It's me again! To those of you who aren't familiar, you can call me Baebae. And to those who are welcome back! I've written fanfiction a bit before (check out my other stuff on my home page) but nothing like this. So that makes this special, and I'm happy you can join me while I embark on this new journey.

There is no spice in this chapter but it is coming in the next part. There are only two parts to this so you won’t have to wait that long. Trust me I am trying my best to crank out the next one so I’ll try my best to be quick!!

I would be so, so, so, soooo grateful if you would like, follow, or repost. Don't feel any pressure but I love hearing any feedback you can provide as I am relatively new to this and it spurs me on to know people enjoy what I put out. If you so choose you can message me or comment if you'd like me to @ you in the next part so you're notified. <3

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this and I'll see you in the next part. Toodles! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Part II of Captains Girl!

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

[mrsparrasblog]

I just listened to "My Tears Ricochet" and had an idea.

TW: Angst *laughs in free therapy*

So, imagine the boys need to fake their deaths. How macabre it is that they attend their own funerals, wanting to watch their loved ones. (These are standalone scenarios they don't fake their death together)

Price: You were his wife for all these years, always waiting for him to return. The funny thing was you could clearly remember the last argument before he left.

"Love, just one more tour, and I'm coming back to you. Then we can start a family and all that, but the boys need me."

"It's always the last tour with you. When is it really the last?"

"This time, I promise."

To some extent, he was right. You thought it was his last tour, but it wasn’t fair. You knew it was over when you got the call from General Shepard. Your husband was dead. You lost the love of your life, and all you got were his dog tags and a check large enough to end world hunger. You slapped your friend after she said at least you were financially secure now.

Price watched you from behind a tree. He saw how you clung to his grave, hugging it tightly and lying on it as you always used to with him. Your dress was dirty, and the tears wouldn’t come anymore.

When Laswell and Nik approached you, you screamed at them, blaming them for not protecting your husband. You trusted them, and now you couldn't bear to let anyone else near his grave. John wished he could comfort you, tell you he would come back to protect you, but he couldn’t. Instead, he sent Simon, who endured all your insults, screams, and even a punch to his crooked nose until you were ready to move on.

Kyle: You and Kyle were born on the same day, in the same room, in the same hospital. It was like a movie; he was your best friend since forever, your first everything, and you were his. It was a love like in all those movies. The only thing separating you was the military, but you stayed home waiting for him. Not even war could separate you. Last year, he brought you that ring. You remember lying in bed, cuddling him as he promised you that you were allowed to die first. He knew you wouldn’t survive his death. So he made the silly promise that you would die first. He thought it was the first promise he ever broke to you.

Kyle had to be held back when he saw you crying at his grave. “Guess I’ll find you in the next one, love. Sleep well.”

Ghost: He was never good at love, and he was sure no one would come to his funeral. No one knew "Ghost," and Simon Riley had been buried since 2009. But then he saw you, the cute medic he always tried to push away. He was afraid of hurting you or corrupting you. How could he have known that pushing you away wouldn’t stop you from loving a dead man?

All the conversations came flooding back:

"Here, Lt. I made you red velvet cookies, your favorite."

"You're going to sit down and let me fix that, idiot."

"You're beautiful, Ghost."

"You're enough."

"It's kind of silly to be in love with someone whose name you didn’t even know. I hope you find your peace, big boy." You placed lilies on his grave and left. In that moment, Simon Riley realized he was loved, and he would burn the world down to come back from the dead just to return to you.

Johnny: Contrary to popular belief among the team, Johnny wasn’t a whore. He was a loving husband and father. That was written above "Sergeant" on his grave, at least.

His funeral was crowded with people who wanted to pay their last respects. Most of them were blue-eyed MacTavishes. Then there was you, holding your three-year-old in your arms. He didn’t understand why everyone was crying or why Dad wasn’t there anymore.

Johnny watched you sit at his grave, sighing as you talked to your husband. "James doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he misses you. He wanted me to give him a mohawk. It looks ridiculous, just like you. I know you’re rocking it in heaven. Just please wait for me, okay? Don’t want you to hoe around in heaven," you chuckled, holding back the tears. "You watch us from there, right? Can’t miss the birth of your princess, can you?"

[okkotsuus]

mirror opposites. (michael k.) !

features: michael kaiser.

contents: kaiser backstory spoilers. mentions of child abuse. mentions of unhealthy mindsets. mentions of blood. reader is a rich girl and actress, also just a decent person. toxic-ish relationship dynamics. suggestive at times. angst. hurt no comfort. one-sided enemies to lovers. 2.2k words.

notes: i wouldn't consider this dark content, but it certainly isn't happy content. also i am NOT enabling anything that mihya's father did, god no. this is questionably written i spent like a week in multiple sessions on this hoe...

michael kaiser has never loved anyone other than himself.

this is something he knew to be true.

knew.

because the second he set his sights on you: such a pretty and sweet little thing. he was hooked.

you were everything that he was never blessed with the privilege to be.

a being that exists to uplift others, to build them up by giving. born to two loving parents who thoroughly wanted you. never having to truly work for a thing a day in your life.

yet, at the same time, so contrarian: you were everything he has ever hated about himself and his upbringing.

an actress that soars so far on the top of the charts that people believe she is a god-given talent. someone who follows so easily, a sheep ever to be drawn to her shepard. and a director in your spare time.

it stirred his very being, in a way that shook his stolen identity. a king high atop his throne feeling an earthquake rumbling below his palace.

his lips instinctively curl into a sneer as the thrum of his pulse deafens his ears. michael kaiser knew all about you, because it was simply knowing himself.

why you were here, at a bastard munchen publicity event: was something he did not know.

the little voice in the back of his head told him that it would be best to leave it a mystery. to let sleeping dogs lie.

but to listen to that voice was to degrade back to his old way, to allow the old man to crash his nearly empty bottle of jäegermeister against the back of his skull. there were always just enough droplets of that putrid filth inside to seep into his fresh cut: and sear at the tender flesh below golden blond hair.

he doesn't get the choice, though.

another thing he hates.

"excuse me, may i get through, sir?" a voice rings out from behind him. god, you sound like the sweetest honey, rich and full bodied like fine wine.

michael's head snaps in your direction, eyes sharp like a bird of prey. something burns in the back of his throat, a biting remark teetering on the tip of his tongue: just waiting to lash out and see crystalline tears roll down your pretty cheeks.

but it never comes.

his words die before they are ever born into this world.

just like his father wished of him.

an iron taste fills his senses as his teeth clamp down, skimming a few tastebuds clean off his tongue. with a clenched jaw, his teeth creaking and echoing in his head, kaiser steps to the side to allow you to pass him. "of course, my bad."

the words are a hurried mumble as his fleet footsteps direct his lithe frame towards the men's room.

everything feels hot as michael takes deep, hurried breaths. his hands prop against the sides of the sink as he hunches over the porcelain. the fabic of his button-down feels like a snake, like hands holding him down-

no.

with a cough, spit splats into the wall of the sink, a bright red marbling with the fluid.

it's flushed away with the turn of a knob.

if only he could flush this feeling away just as easily.

an all consuming paranoia, chills running up and down his spine in unity with flashes of heat. his palms feel like every single pore is being pricked with needles. his lungs ache as he takes gasping breaths.

yet, he is devastatingly silent.

when his head raises to see himself in the mirror, just for a moment: he sees a grimly little boy.

CRACK!!

now, in the shards of bloodied glass, he sees himself once more.

he needed to remind himself of his identity in the most base way he knew: pain.

michael doesn't feel the sting of his knuckles as he runs them under the water till it goes clear. he wraps toilet tissue over the wound and keeps his hand tucked into his pocket as he returns to the floor.

no one would ever know.

not until after the event.

and kaiser's trail of debris was not something that bastard munchen was unfamiliar with. on his very first day after being freed from his cell, he practically incapacitated three players in one breath.

it was an unspoken part of the team.

the price for his talent.

was blood.

as cerulean eyes survey the area, mapping every single money-grubbing exec to avoid, he is forced out of his thoughts once again. by that aggravatingly melodic voice that was beginning to etch its way into his mind. carving to make a mark.

"pardon, sorry to bother, but i completely didn't recognize you earlier: michael kaiser, right?"

his blood ran ice cold in his veins.

you knew him.

like a slap in the face, his calm was shattered to thousands of bits and pieces: like that damned mirror he had just slashed his hand on.

rashly, he reaches a hand to push his bangs from his eyes. the feeling of the strands against his forehead suddenly becoming far too stimulating. he doesn't even realize his mistake.

not until he sees those e/c eyes of yours widen like saucers.

fuck.

michael forgot that was his cut up hand.

like a deer in headlights, he stands there, arms limp by his sides.

but when your gentle hands reach for his, every muscle in his body tenses up. like a coil ready to snap.

no one touches him.

no one.

not fans, not teammates, not even ness.

in the corner of his eye, he can see his loyal guard dog's face paint in horror.

that instinctual disgust never hits him as soft skin meets with his own, so delicately as you bring his bloodied knuckles closer. that sends him further into his silent spiral.

why?

why does it have to be you?

out of the 8.2 billion people on this earth, it just had to be you.

god hated him, he was sure of this before; but now, he was certain.

"don't touch me." michael's words are poorly masked with indifference, which means nothing with the way he refuses to pull himself from your ensnaring gentleness.

you don't even acknowledge his quip, staring down at blood-stained porcelain skin with enigmatic eyes. "you're hurt... let's wash this out and get it properly wrapped."

kaiser can't find the strength in himself to fight you, not when you cradle him so gently in cupped palms: as if he were the last drop of salvation on this cursed and rotten planet.

it winds him up leant back on a random bench, while you pick some shards of glass carefully from his wounds with the tweezers of the emergency first aid kit your manager keeps. dutiful, you stay hunched over his knuckles, not even moving when drawing in slow breaths.

he'd dare to say you could have been a surgeon in another life.

ZING!!

okay, maybe he won't go that far. a searing shot of pain races up his arm as your hand shakes for just a second.

before he can pull away, you pull out a small, but jagged piece of glass. "i'm sorry, could tell that one hurt you..."

normally, michael wouldn't give an apology the time of the day. if they make the mistake once, they can and will do it again: that was his outlook.

but, seeing that forlorn look in pools of e/c, he finds his heart growing a little more forgiving.

even if just slightly.

"it's fine, didn't hurt that bad, schätzchen*. i've faced worse." the words leave a bitter taste on his tongue. even if he had not experienced it in so long, the memories of the wretched pain his drunk father would leave is something he can never shake.

"that doesn't matter, i hurt you: which means i should apologize." you speak, tone firm as you sprays an antibacterial spray on his knuckles before placing gauze and wrapping them taut. "that's common decency, michael."

he knows that.

but he was never taught that, it was something he had to learn over time. something he still hasn't fully grasped yet, even at nineteen years old.

another thing he can blame dear old dad for.

you tie off his bandage and hum, leaning down to press your lips against the fabric. "my mother says this makes anything heal faster..." it comes out in a whispered confession, as if you didn't intend for him to fully hear the words.

against his better judgement, heat begins to nip at the high points of kaiser's face.

"we'll see if that really works out, ja**?"

and just for a second, he can see that public face of yours crack just a bit when heat begins to pool in the middle of your palms, eyes averting his ocean gaze.

not quite sure why, but he found himself liking that reaction; though he had claimed to hate you. it sent a trill up his spine, bouncing up each vertebrae like a xylophone, leaving a melodic ringing in his ears.

wow.

so this is what love is like?

immediately a sense of horror begins to eat at the corners of his mind. falling in love at first sight with an actress? just like his dad did all those years ago.

he had no way to know you would stay.

and that truly scared michael kaiser.

possibly more than fearing for his life, as he did for so many years.

"it may not seem it, but i'm actually a football fan..." you murmur, tone creeping into the territory of shy as your eyes dart up to meet his once more. "originally, i had come to this event for a promotion that my manager arranged: some commercial that would be shot in a few months. i figured, while i was here, i would try to get an autograph..."

that perked kaiser's interest: you, a fan? with the millions of people who watched your movies, here you were in front of him acting like someone who just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

it was... cute.

"so, you're a fan of mine, then?" he hums, a smug look beginning to curl at the corners of his lips. his hand, the one you had so carefully bandaged, reaches to brush a stray h/c strand from your eyes.

yet, against his nature: michael's hand lingers, fingertips brushing over the supple skin of your cheek before slowly retreating. "i could give you a lot more than some autograph, schatz***..."

just like he thought, he can feel the heat that begins to radiate from your skin at his words. strangely, michael finds this sensation as fulfilling as breaking down other strikers. the sight of your pretty lips being drawn behind pearly teeth as he watches your head spin.

"oh, gosh- i don't even know what to say..." the words tumble from your lips like water from a broken dam.

kaiser grins, he had you: hook, line, and sinker.

"you don't need to say anything, just yes." his blood thrums under his skin, michael can practically feel it rushing through his veins, as it beings to pool.

god, the sight that you give him the privilege of seeing next sends a wave of heat running under his collar. those pretty e/c eyes swallowed up by dilated pupils he can practically see himself in, pink lips shiny and bitten.

"yes, please, michael."

it's like you've opened pandora's box.

.

.

.

every muscle in kaiser's body aches, raised red scratches spanning his broad back. but when cerulean eyes open, from briefly dozing off, he can't find the sight of you in his hotel suite.

the bitter taste of bile rises to the back of his mouth before he thickly swallows. in an instant, he's sat up, eyes desperately searching. his robe thrown on haphazardly.

in his fervor, he doesn't notice the envelope that he knocks off the bed, neat penmanship scrawling his name across the back.

michael's phone rings with a buzz, he picks it up with hope it's you; even though numbers weren't exchanged. no, it's jinpachi ego.

and in that moment, michael kaiser thinks he can understand his father's anger. even if just a little bit.

*Schätzchen: Sweetie (feminine petname)

**Ja: Yes (affirmative)

***Schatz: Darling (feminine petname)

okkotsuus 25

[mrsdillonx]

Can you do Dallas Winston married headcanons? Thanks, love you!!🥰

𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 - (𝐝.𝐰.)

warnings: not much? one suggestive one and one swear.

a/n: ofc bby, ilyt! hope u enjoy!! yes ik its bob hughes above this but whatever💅 also this is not proofread and it lowkey is not the best🤧

———————————————————————

i’d say he proposed when he was twenty and you were nineteen

sorry to mischaracterize (sue me🙄) but he lowkey knew you were the one. bc u had put up with him through it ALLLLL

the rumbles, when he went to jail, when he was drunk E T C.

so basically (this is a personal headcannon) he kept his moms wedding ring when she passed away

that’s what he proposed with most def

he wanted to lowkey be sappy for you and act like he genuinely cared BC HE DID. but he lowkey struggled

bro was NEEEERRRRRRRVY

lowkey had to hype himself up for like 2 days before he even did it

he also asked darrel shaynne curtis for advice

darry helped HE RLLY DID

but bro was still shaking in his boots

so then he asked the wisest of them all

johnathon cade.

when the day came (i headcannon this your guys’ like…. three year anniversary?

he lowkey surprised you the BEST he could. he got you flowers, and a necklace with his initial on it. (he had a ring with yours)

while you were gawking over it was when he got on one knee

he was like

“y/n… i.. i love you. so damn much. with everything in me. i know i’m a lot to deal with, but you’ve stuck with me through it all. i’m one lucky son of a bitch. i don’t know what i did to deserve you… but i wanna be the best i can be for you, baby. i will always try for you. i love you. will you marry me?”

you were floored

you said yes of course

there was not a lot of people at the wedding, it was the gang, buck, the shepard siblings, and your choice of people

wedding night was fun….😈

bro loves the change from “my girl” to “my wife” he says it constantly

bro steps it up fr

he wants to be better than his dad fr

NEVER EVER LAYS A HAND ON YOU

gets a job at the rodeo

you two eventually buy a house near the curtis’

dallas is doing SOOO MUCH BETTER

he still smokes tho. and u still nag at him.

you’ve turned him into mush. ofc he’s still the same old dallas some times, but he’s not an asshole if you understand what i’m saying.

you’re his whole world

———————————————————————

Bonus!

“baby, take a deep breath,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist. you were trying to make this recipe but everything was going wrong.

“i just don’t understand what i am doing wrong, i’ve tried everything,” you huffed, continuing to read the paper. “this is so fucking stupid.” you grumbled, slamming the paper down and putting your head in your hands.

dallas sighed and lifted his hands to turn you to face him. “hey..” he spoke softly, grabbing your hands, and pulling them away from your face. he lifted your left one and kissed your ring finger, where the ring was, like he always did. “lets just get take out, huh? i know you wanna do this but you’re stressing yourself out, honey. if you want… i’ll even take you to the dingo.”

you sighed and gave him a soft smile, he always knew how to make you feel better. you laid your head against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you. “awe..” he mumbled.

“i just wanna stay in,” you mumbled softly, your voice muffled by his chest. “can you clean this up? i’m gonna shower before it gets here.”

“yes ma’am.” he smiled and kissed the top of your head.

———————————————————————

taglist: @socgf

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Darry Curtis was always gay- the musical just makes it more obvious.

I know it was never Hinton’s INTENTION for any of her characters to be perceived as queer, she claims she didn’t write them that way, and that’s fine. In fact, I think reading The Outsiders as a group of straight men who have the bonds they do is actually a really great critique of toxic masculinity, in that we would see the contrast between their interactions one on one or alone with the group, compared to their macho, hyper masculine personas they showcase in public. HOWEVER, I think it’s incredibly hard to read it that way because Hinton accidentally and completely unintentionally made Darry Curtis one of the gayest characters in modern literature. It’s not far fetched. It’s not a stretch. I’m saying that if you have even a surface level understanding of subtext that it is obvious. Darry’s queerness is as open  in the novel as he is in his life- that is, it’s never said explicitly, but it’s VERY easy to see the signs. In fact, the way it’s threaded into the narrative but very talked around leads me to believe that even though Darry wasn’t out, it might have been an open secret within the gang- or at the very least they probably had some suspicions. 

For one, in the book Darry is never mentioned even once to have had a girlfriend, or even to have gone on dates, but we know he was popular and well liked. You can’t convince me that a handsome, popular football player, whose peers liked him enough to vote him Boy of The Year, didn’t have more than a few girls interested in him, but Pony’s narration never even alludes to Darry having been interested in one. For all he talks up Darry’s achievements, the scholarship he won, the future he could have had and everything he gave up, women/a girlfriend were never a part of it- which, given the time period and Darry’s reliance on hyper masculine social scripts, seems highly uncharacteristic unless there was a plausible explanation for his complete disinterest (ie. being gay). Now, examine this hyper masculinity a little further, and you can see it for what it is, a) a defence mechanism (because it separates him from stereotypes of what a gay men are like, so if he’s ‘manly’ enough no one will ever suspect or discover what he is) and b) the unfortunate complete opposite of that. Just like how hyper femininity characteristic to femme lesbians is off putting to men, the same is true to some degree about hyper masculine men being somewhat off putting to women. Not to the same degree, and probably not as obviously, but Darry’s  over the top masculinity might be the one thing effective in keeping (some) women away for reasons they can’t quite put their finger on. Point is, Darry was never a ladies man, to a degree that is very not heterosexual, especially for the time period.

So, now that we’ve established Darry’s complete disinterest in dating women,  his hypermasculine personality and it’s possible implications, let’s turn to other textual support for his queerness: his relationships with other male characters. I’m not talking about the gang- his interactions with all of them are very friendly/familial-  but he has a bond with Tim Shepard that is clear on the page but left largely unexplained (their weird eye contact and high mutual respect, the fact Tim was at their house once with no explanation), and his homoerotic run in/fight with Paul at the rumble. Both these relationships have plausible deniability- they’re not explicitly gay, but they’re also not NOT gay. Again, Hinton didn’t intentionally make Darry gay, but he very much is, and as far as closeted gay characters go, he’s a fairly well written one, because the subtext is very much THERE if you know what you’re looking for, but the queerness of his interactions is shrouded in this very real this COULD mean nothing characteristic of a lot of closeted queer interactions. 

Having said all this, I think the musical making Darry and Paul’s fight (somehow) even more charged and homoerotic than it is in the book was a wise choice, because a lot of the rest of the subtext was changed/missing from the musical adaptation. I’ve seen the ritfr analysis looking at the lyrics as they relate to Darry’s queerness, and I do think they follow the veiled/subtextual theme, but I don’t think they’re as explicitly gay as they’re touted to be. However, I do think the musical does a good job of highlighting Darry’s queerness given the medium they’re working with, and the actors do an amazing job portraying it without saying it outright, making it more obvious than it is on the page- but Darry was canonically gay in the book too, and let’s not pretend otherwise.

(Lmk if you want to see my analysis of the other Curtis’ queerness as it related to the book + musical).

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

So i read the ENA Prom!AU and hear me out....

So ENA is still going to the dance with someone else BUUUUT reader is going with a close friend of theirs, and so once ENA is dumped she gets really sad until she found out they're only going as friends and not as a date????

Omg I forgot about that one-

Imma do a rewrite of that fic but with the idea you mentioned (and I'll make the "close friend" Dream BBQ Ena, but for this fic she'll be called "∃NA" like it's stylized in the game).

.........

Prom night.

It was a once-in-a-lifetime event Ena was excited to participate in.

Everybody was allowed to attend...so long as they had a date, of course, as that was the only way they'd even be permitted to enter the building it was held in.

But that wasn't problem for her, as she found herself a date only a few days ago: a guy who she didn't know all that well, but has talked to her a few times between classes. So that was enough for him to be a familiar face; he was nice to her, and thus was considered a "friend" in her eyes.

Of all people, she never suspected that she'd be asked out to prom, so when he approached her with the question...obviously she couldn't refuse!

She couldn't be more eager for night to come--which was odd, since she never liked parties or huge social gatherings.

But this was an exception she was willing to make. Anything to make one more person in this school treat her like she's normal.

Once the pair were granted entry, Ena's grin only widened as she clung to her date's arm, eyes surveying the gym and everything going on within:

In one corner, she saw Phindoll wearing his best tuxedo, trying to woo a group of ladies with some advanced mathematical puns. In another, Shepard was trying to sneak pieces of turron while she kept an eye out for any potential messes.

Then she spotted you, Moony, and ∃NA hanging out together by the food tables, chatting about things she couldn't quite make out. But even so, she was glad to see another one of her kind attending the party.

All her friends were here.

Life was good.

"Ah, isn't this great? I wonder how we should best spend our time. I see delectable turron there! And the bowl of code just over there! Oh, so many possibilities!" She giggled, leaning on her date's shoulder. "What do you think, my dear acquaintance? Where shall we begin?"

"Oh..uh about that..." He cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly in-place. "You mind letting go for a second?"

"Certainly! But...is something the matter?" Although confused, the polygonal woman listened, her eyes still shimmering with happiness. "I know. I'm nervous, too. But it's gonna be wonderful-!"

"Yeah, um..look, I only said I'd take you to the prom. They wouldn't have let me in otherwise." His gaze went to the corner, where he saw his friends hanging out. "Couldn't let them figure out I was emptyhanded, y'know?"

"Are you referring to your buddies over there? We should go meet them post haste-!" She went to take his hand, only to see him take a huge step away from her, and she frowned. "Huh? What's...What's wrong? Why are you acting this way?"

"Didn't you hear me? I said I'd take you here. I never said anything about being with you the entire time."

".....what..?" Her blue side took over as her shoulders slumped, the words slowly hitting her like a truck. "I don't...understand. I..I-I thought-"

"You seriously cannot be this dense...you really think I'd wanna be seen with someone like you? You know what that would do to my reputation?!" His voice became raised, and she brought her hands to her chest, cowering under his gaze.

"That's...not very nice. Wha..What did I do wrong? Did I say something offensive?? Is it...the way I'm dwessed?" Her voice trembled as she looked down at herself.

She was so excited about tonight that she picked out the best dress possible: one made of blue screens, pixelated popup clips on the straps, and ribbons of code wrapped around her waist.

But now she felt nothing but insecure about it.

He sighed, suddenly feeling bad for shouting. "No, it's not what you said. It's not how you're dressed. It's....It's you, Ena. I'm sorry. Don't take it personally. You're a nice girl, but I just needed a reason to get in here and be with my friends."

She felt her heart crack in two.

"B-But....but I-"

"Look, you can have fun by yourself. Do whatever you want. Just...stay away from me, alright? I'll see you in class sometime."

"Wait! Please don't..!!!"

Despite trying to reach out to him, her date--or rather her ex-date--walked off and disappeared into the crowd, pretending she didn't even exist.

Her yellow hand was grasping for air, although it flopped down to her side as she realized she was very much alone now.

She stood there for a moment, before an involuntary shudder took over her body.

Was she about to cry or vomit or both?

Apparently, it was option two as she felt white noise bile rise up in her throat, and she slapped both hands over her mouth. She sprinted out the nearest backdoor, hoping nobody would see or hear her.

She definitely didn't like this party anymore.

.........

"Ugh, why didn't I ask her when I had the chance?"

"Dunno, but get a load of this turron, dude! Eat your feelings away if you feel that bad about it."

"I still don't get the point of these stupid events. We're just wasting time...remind me again why you dragged me here against my will?"

"Because it's prom, Meanie. You'll never get another chance to attend it." Shaking your head in amusement, you glanced at ∃NA, whose meaner side wasn't at all thrilled to be here.

No, she wasn't your date, as she was too committed to her studies in business to pursue any relationship. Yet you convinced her that she could afford one night of joy, and she finally obliged--but only because you two were close friends. Otherwise, you would've had to drag her here kicking and screaming.

On paper, you two were listed as "partners", thus fulfilling the requirement to enter the building. While Moony somehow snuck in and hasn't been caught yet.

In truth, there was another member of her species here that you were hoping to ask out to prom....but unfortunately she was already taken by some random guy outside of your circle.

Ena was so excited about it, given how much she rambled and nervously asked for your opinion on the dress she had prepared, that you couldn't let her find out how disheartened you were upon hearing the news.

So you decided to go with ∃NA and introduce her to Moony. Her Salesperson side was taking the backseat for a while, as she got bored of doing inventory on random things and trying to pitch sales to uninterested attendees. For now, Meanie was here, mumbling and grumbling while chugging cups of code, wishing they were alcoholic.

"Say..I haven't seen that other Ena or her sleazeball of a "date" in a while." She huffed. "Something ain't right about that.."

"Yeah, I hear you.." Moony nodded in agreement. "I get nothing but bad vibes whenever I'm around that guy. Plus..he's kinda ugly. Why would she settle for that?"

"You say that about everyone, Moony." You chuckled, setting down your empty plate. "I'll see where she is and make sure she's alright. Don't kill each other over the last piece of turron while I'm gone."

"No promises." Meanie answered, immediately shooting the celestial entity beside her a look, which she returned in kind. "What, you oversized boulder? Got something to say?!"

"Woah there, lady. I'm a rock, thank you very much."

"Rock. Boulder. Stone....whatever!! It's all the same, ain't it?"

"Hahaaaa!! You're pretty cool, ya know that? I love your sass."

"...hmph. The feeling's mutual."

"....alright. I'll catch you guys later." You flashed a smile at them both, before heading off to search for your friend.

You prayed that Moony was wrong about the "bad vibes" that guy gave her, but usually she was correct about 99% of the time. Although you won't know for sure until you found her...

.......

It took awhile, and it felt like you were going on several different sidequests, but after asking around the gym, one attendee mentioned that they saw her running out the backdoor by herself.

That immediately worried you, and so you headed outside, where it was dark and particuarly chilly. The moment you clicked the door shut behind you, all of the music and chatter from the event went mute.

Not long after that, you heard two different noises fill the air.

They sounded like....glitched crying and sniffling?

'Oh no.' You didn't have to go very far to locate the source, as you eventually found Ena sitting alone on a bench illuminated by a single streetlight. Her back was turned to you, and she was sobbing loudly into her hands, static vomit scattered around the grass surrounding her.

It broke your heart deeply.

You felt terrible for even thinking about it, but somehow....you had a feeling that this exact scenario was going to play out.

She'd get her hopes up and believe she finally found someone who was nice to her. Someone who didn't judge her for her species....only to do the cruelest thing imaginable and leave her all alone again.

You didn't wanna believe it. You didn't wanna crush her happiness by warning her.

Now? You wish you did.

Quietly walking over to the bench, you sat down beside her. "Ena..." You rested a gentle hand on her shoulder, seeing the way she tensed up and immediately looked at you, tears flowing down the white half of her face. "What happened?"

"H-He...He used me to get into the pwom, [y/n]!!" She bawled. "He didn't wanna be seen wi...with "someone like me" and said I was huwting his weputation!! I should have known better...I-I'm too stupid and dense to think anyone would wanna go out with me! Why did I come here???? I SHOULD JUST GO HOME RIGHT NOW AND DIE!!! WOULD THAT MAKE HIM FEEL BETTER?!!!"

"No. Absolutely not. He's wrong about all of that." You brought her into a hug, and she buried her face into your chest, wailing and blubbering about how much she hated these social gatherings and listing every regret she had in life leading up to this moment.

Rubbing her back, you let her get it all out of her system, hoping she didn't go "full-sadness" on you.

The one time that happened, she was damn near inconsolable and ∃NA's Meanie side had to threaten her with violence to get her to calm down.

You didn't want it to come to that now, not over a broken heart of all things, but her skin was already turning light grey.

"He's a liar. And a total prick for treating you like a one-way ticket into this event. Anyone would be lucky to go out with you, Ena. I...I-I know I would be..." You muttered the last part quietly, your face growing a bit flushed.

Yet she heard you. "Bu...B-But you have ∃NA, don't you?" She mumbled depressingly, clinging to your [dress/suit]. "She's pwettier..more confident..isn't a jobless loser like me. You should go back to her and leave my misewable-self alone."

"You already know I'm not gonna do that, and besides...she's not actually my date."

"...wh..what..?"

"Yeah, we only had to present ourselves as a couple to enter. She didn't even want to come, but I insisted she took a break from her studies."

"S-So..you two are just...?"

"Friends. That's all. Nothing more. Honestly, I really wanted to ask you out before that guy did, and I was kicking myself for not speaking up sooner." The words spilled from your mouth before you could think. But you didn't care anymore. She needed to know.

It was enough to make her stop crying for the moment, as she looked up at you. "Really?"

"Mhm. Moony had a bad feeling about him. But you seemed so happy when you told me, and I thought...maybe he was a nice guy. So I let it go. Now I wish I hadn't...I'm sorry, Ena." You frowned slightly.

"No, it's...it's not your fault. I-I didn't listen, and...a-and now I'm a mess that you had to come clean up!!" She began sobbing again, falling back into your arms. "I wuined your night!! Like always...I'm sowwy..."

"No, honey. You didn't do anything wrong. The only one who ruined tonight was him." Shaking your head, you helped her sit up, brushing away the tears falling from her blue eye. You wish you could beat up that bastard for making her feel this way--like she was nothing--but you knew that's not what she'd want. It wouldn't solve anything.

"Come on. No man is worth your tears. He only cared about himself and his loser friends. He missed out on the chance to be with somebody as beautiful and kind as you. And I bet he's gonna regret ditching you every time he sees you in the halls."

Ena looked stunned by your words, sniffling as she tried to compose herself. Then you saw her face glitch back to its normal blue-yellow scheme, the former half still looking a bit sad. "I...have my doubts I'm either of those things. Did Moony put you up to this?" She squinted.

"Nah. She's mean sometimes, but she'd never stoop that low." You smiled, taking her hands into yours. "So before I forget...may I take you to prom and share at least one dance with you?"

She blinked in surprise. "R-Really? Are you sure?"

"Yes, really. The night's still young, and there's no line to re-register as a couple. But if you're not feeling up to it, we can go home. That's okay, too."

"No, no...this night shouldn't be spoiled by his ungentlemanly actions. Your words ring true." Her yellow half took over, smiling brightly as she threw her arms around you in a tight embrace. "Thank you for talking some much needed sense into me, [y/n]! I apologize for any distress I may have caused. I'll be your date! Absolutely!"

"Now there's the Ena I know." You laughed softly, hugging her back for a few moments before you both stood up and headed inside the building hand-in-hand.

Already people were gathered on the dancefloor, moving and swaying to the beat of the vaporwave music playing over the DJ's speakers.

Moony and ∃NA were still by the food tables, laughing together as if they've known each other all their lives, only to fall silent as they spotted you and Ena together in the center.

They glanced at each other once, and exchanged brief smiles, understanding what had happened and being glad she was with you and not that prick anymore.

Ena saw her celestial friend give her a wink, and her fellow polygonal entity raising a toast, causing her face to burn with a slight blush.

"Don't worry about them."

Feeling your hands grasping hers gently, all of her attention was redirected to you and your face. "Let's get through this one dance, alright?"

Without another word, she smiled back and nodded, allowing you to lead the way, focusing on nobody else but you and your footsteps.

You both ended up staying for a few songs, and it was a wonderful experience.

This night started off horribly, with someone who didn't think twice about abandoning her, and ended with someone else---the one who truly and deeply cared about her.

That was you.

it was you the whole time.

How silly of her to not realize that sooner.

[tarysande]

Mass Effect 2: The Case for the Heroine's Journey

I have a theory. And I think it's something others--especially other storytellers--might find interesting. It explains why some people absolutely adore Mass Effect 2 while others (not as many, in my experience!) think dealing with all the companions and their personal quests is boring or irrelevant.

What it boils down to is the difference between the Hero's Journey and the Heroine's Journey. There a couple of takes on the Heroine's Journey (ranging from more philosophical and psychoanalytical to more story-based), and I'm going to be pulling hard from the story-based iteration, which author Gail Carriger has written a fabulous book about. I highly recommend it.

One thing I want to mention right off the bat: the gender, sex, or sexuality of your protagonist has nothing to do with whether they're a hero or a heroine.

Everyone and their dog knows the Hero's Journey. A literal ton of writing advice refers to the Hero's Journey as if it's the be-all and end-all of narrative (thanks Carl Jung, Joseph Campbell, and Christopher Vogler); it ain't called the monomyth for nothing.

But if a part of you grits your teeth every time it gets trotted out as The One Right Way to tell a story that sells or a story people love, you may have your mind blown by the concept of the Heroine's Journey. Every single one of you who tingles with excitement at the very thought of found family (or romance, for that matter)? Yeah, strap in, we're going for a ride.

I don't want to go into a lot of detail about the Hero's Journey; it's everywhere. You know it even if you don't realize you know it. So for brevity's sake, I'll give you wikipedia's one-sentence description: a hero goes on an adventure, is victorious in a decisive crisis, and comes home changed or transformed. Luke Skywalker. Everyone always talks about Luke Skywalker. And on the surface, Mass Effect could seem like a Hero's Journey, right?

According to Gail, a Hero's Journey boils down to

A repeated pattern of withdrawal and return, and those withdrawals are voluntary, as voluntary withdrawal and increased isolation yields self-reliant strength.

Victory is in isolation and asking for help is bad.

But looking at it (especially ME2) through the lens of the Heroine's Journey is where it gets interesting.

This is the infographic Gail created and supplies on her website:

In her book, Gail notes that not every element has to be present to qualify a story as a Hero/Heroine's Journey and the events don't have to happen specifically in this order.

In the Heroine's Journey

The heroine's withdrawal is involuntary; something is broken and she must abdicate the power she had in order to rebuild, retrieve, or reunite with what was taken or broken.

Victory is a group effort; asking for help is a sign of strength; and the protagonist realizes that while she can't do everything herself, she has surrounded herself with people whose skills she can effectively deploy.

In the Heroine's Journey, the DESCENT is involuntary. Something is done to her or taken from her, and it breaks her familial network.

In ME2, obviously, uh, the thing that's taken from Shepard is her own life. Of course, instead of that being the end of the story, it's the inciting incident that leads to the involuntary withdrawal from her found family on the Normandy, her connection to the Alliance, and her Spectre status. Her home is literally destroyed. And then, kinda hilariously, she wakes up in the literal underworld. You know. Cerberus, dog that guards the gates of Hades?

I play a very Paragon Shepard and haven't played Renegade, so I can't speak to that. However, I can tell you that my Paragon Shep wakes up working for Cerberus and promptly proceeds to gain more Renegade points in the first couple of missions--hell, the first couple of conversations with Miranda, Jacob, and TIM--than she got in all of ME1.

Jacob: Do you trust me, Shepard? Shepard: NO, omg.

I've probably played ME2 five or six times with this Shepard, and she always strikes me as a bit off, a bit manic even, until she sees Tali. And she doesn't really start to settle or feel like herself until Archangel takes off his helmet, believes she is who she says she is, and without hesitation agrees to follow her into hell.

(As the protagonist in his own story, Garrus is also a heroine on a Heroine's Journey, by the by. Shepard's death breaks his network; C-Sec and the Council's denial of the Reapers leads to his abdication of power in the hunt for justice. His underworld is Omega. He puts together a surrogate family to fight injustice; he learns to delegate; he doesn't do it for glory... And then Sidonis's betrayal breaks the new family and sends him on another cycle. My theory, however, is that if you let him kill Sidonis, his journey takes on the revenge aspect of a Hero's Journey instead of the family and reunification structure of a Heroine's Journey.)

In ME2, the arc of recruiting an ally, earning their loyalty, and deploying their suggestions to improve the entire team's chances of survival is repeated over and over; this is the SEARCH of the cycle. And anyone who's ever tried to race their way through ME2 without doing all those loyalty missions or without scanning all those planets for resources finds out pretty quick why they're important.

So, while you potentially could race through ME1 without even recruiting several teammates (did you even know you can play that game without recruiting Garrus???), thereby making it much more of a Hero's Journey of the Strength of the Individual, you really can't do that in ME2 without massive casualties. You need the people around you. You need to build relationships. And you need to learn to delegate well, or things will absolutely fall apart during the end run.

Even the stated mission of ME2 is more Heroine's Journey. You're not fighting for glory; in fact, most of the people who used to be in awe of you now think you're a crazy terrorist. You're fighting to stop what's happening to human colonists.

The end run is so satisfying specifically because it leans in to the Heroine's Journey of information gathering and network building. You cannot beat the game as a solitary soldier. You cannot achieve a good outcome--minimal deaths, etc.--without having spent a lot of time and effort gaining the loyalty of your crew and then knowing how to deploy them to best serve the whole team.

ME2 is a story about finding and building a family after the last one is broken.

And though it's a whole other can of worms, I actually think the reason why the ending of ME3 was ultimately so unsatisfying for so many (again, not all) is because the majority of the game is once again a Heroine's Journey--team building and information gathering across the galaxy--but the endgame pulls the expected narrative out from under you. Instead of actually using the resources you've so carefully built, you're quite literally beamed up into complete isolation (weakness) and left to make a choice in isolation. It breaks the narrative promise that's been set up since the beginning of the game. And, whether you realize it or not, that's a huge part of why that lonely choice feels so hollow. Instead of a structured reunion and a rebuilt network, it's actually the broken family and involuntary descent that heralds the beginning of a new Heroine's Journey--not the the end of a successful one.

Also, incidentally? It's Heroine's Journeys that usually get satisfying instead of distracting-the-hero-from-his-real-mission romance, banter, fully realized side characters, and humor.

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF PRIORITY: MARS (PART 1)

Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard, Maj. Kaidan Alenko, Lt. James Vega, and Dr. Liara T'Soni Sophie, I don't know what you are- or who. Not since Cerberus rebuilt you. For all I know, you could be their puppet- controlled by The Illusive Man himself. Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)

[average-mako-enjoyer]

crying screaming throwing up 1/3

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know I just bitched about the lazy writing and world-building in Mass Effect, but I wouldn't love these games if they didn't have moments where everything was on point (or close to it): the writing, the animation, the voice acting, everything.

Here's one of my favorite scenes, it's very short and I bet you've never thought about it before, but it's so, so good, I'm obsessed with it and I have to scream.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure that the only time that Shepard really freaks out is after the Mars mission. It happens right on screen, we don't hear it from someone else, we don't have to headcanon it, we get to see Shepard not as a protagonist, not as a savior of the galaxy, not as a soldier, but as an actual human being, simply scared shitless.

I also love that it starts with Liara immediately realizing what's going on. You can see that she freaks out too, because Shepard is freaking out, and the camera lingers on her reaction as it shifts from fear to sadness to understanding. And then we finally get to see the condition of our favorite Virmire survivor, and it's just oof.

When we go back to Liara, she already knows what to do.

And then we finally get to see Shepard. All these erratic movements are completely out of character. Throughout the three games, we only see Shepard move with some sort of intention (yes, because it's a game, and it's supposed to be that way, but think beyond that; it's also Shepard's characteristic as a person), and there's no intention in this. Shepard is holding on to the examination table, trying to lean down or move forward, and that's because now, in this situation, he can do nothing. No amount of self-sacrifice, quick thinking, tactical advantage, or stupid badassery will help. There's someone on that table he clearly cares about, and he has no say in the matter.

And Liara knows it. She leans forward to look Shepard in the eye and draw his attention to herself. She starts soft and pleading:

And dude, Shepard's expression is everything. It's sad and scared and open... again, completely out of character.

And then we can watch Liara's expression change when she sees that Shepard heard her. Her tone is no longer soft, it becomes quite aggressive.

It is all very deliberate. And it works! Shepard is still terrified, but he furrows his eyebrows and his expression closes. Now he looks more like the Shepard we all know and love.

Another change of tactics, and oh my god. Say what you will about my girl Liara, she is a real MVP here. Notice how she goes soft again and just gives Shepard a suggestion. She knows the best way to snap him out of his panic and sense of sheer helplessness is to push him to start giving orders again.

And again, it works! This sounds and looks like our usual Shepard.

Oh, I love these animations. The change from something hard-assed and in control to something vulnerable... Whoever animated this, let me kiss you on the mouth, let's ride into the sunset. You're beautiful and I love you.

✨Gentle touches✨ Not like our usual Shep at all.

Now to part 2 because I have even more gifs

[sky-scribbles]

You know what I really appreciate about Kaidan's character arc? He gets a story about finding self-acceptance and letting himself let go and feel things - but at the same time, he still gets to be an introvert. He still gets to be, in his words, someone who isn't 'the life of the party, who has a lot of friends'.

I mean - in ME1, Kaidan fully admits to a romanced Shepard that he doesn't feel human. When he killed Vyrnnus, he became someone Rahna was afraid of, someone she saw as dangerous... so he holds himself to nigh-impossible standards. 'You never let yourself lose control,' Shepard tells him. He's very, very indirect in a lot of his conversations with Shep, because he's trying so hard not to be too direct, too forward; he's constantly polite and disciplined and professional because he can't be a problem. He can't let anyone see him as unpredictable or dangerous because that's when they start seeing you as terrifying. That's when people you love look at you like you're not human.

But Shepard can encourage him to let himself feel, and show it - 'I might need to loosen up. A little,' he admits, sheepishly - and when you see him again on Horizon, he lets his feelings be open and messy and a Problem. By ME3, he's completely embracing his nature as a biotic, gleefully letting everyone know at the Citadel party that he can Reave now, joining in with the other biotics roasting James in the 'biotics vs strength' argument. He's accepted himself, he knows his friends accept him, and he's letting himself laugh and drink and dance like a complete dork, and he's grown so much, and yet -

And yet, he's still a fundamentally quiet, self-contained person. Maybe I'm just jaded from all the media where introverted characters get told to loosen up, and then they suddenly realise that they do want to be the life of the party now actually. But Kaidan? Kaidan hangs out in the observation deck, perhaps the quietest part of the Normandy - the same place where Samara spent her time, a place where no other characters are present. (Ashley, in comparison, spends a lot of time hanging out in the bar, where there are constantly other characters around). Kaidan's Citadel hangout with Shepard? He doesn't head out onto the Silversun Strip with you like many of the other characters; his ideal evening is cooking a meal for his friend/partner and having a chill time with the two of you. A lot of the conversations you have with him on board ship are quiet, introspective. His hangout place on the Citadel is a quiet Presidium cafe.

It's just... comforting to me. He grows, but he doesn't have to change who he fundamentally is, y'know? ME3 Kaidan is more confident and sociable and (despite everything) happy than ME1 Kaidan, but he's still a guy who's not fond of too much lights or noise or crowds, who's soft-spoken and sensitive, who gets caught up in his own thoughts sometimes. I just really appreciate that.

[roseyisopodsart]

RE as LPS part 3! RE4R, RE5, and RE6 as LPS!

Explanations below 😋

I reached the tag limit 💀💀💀 so here’s two tags I had to get rid of! Final part coming out tomorrow and I was gonna add Mike, but didn’t to keep the number even! Just know he’s a bird!

Ashley - I really wanted to play with her “baby eagle” codename and maker her a bird (duck #150 ), but I personally don’t think it truly fits, but I do think a lip eater bunny fits! Especially cause of her hair! Bunny is #95!

Merchant - Donkey #1944! Hear me out, donkeys are great at carrying lots of stuff…Merchant carries lots of stuff…therefore, donkey, case closed, thank you for coming to my TED talk.

Luis - Goat #1952! He was lowkey hard to find an LPS for, but I saw this lil goat with the heart nose and I couldn’t resist.

Hunnigan - Lamb #2101! Except her bow would be a pen tee hee! And with glasses ofc!

Krauser - I’m not super happy with the LPS I chose for Krauser, but I do know he screams loyal dog that’s been wronged one too many times and has started biting. For now, I assigned him German Shepard #1800.

Salazar - He’s an ant. Tee hee.

Saddler - Saddler was so damn hard to decide what LPS he would be. I do NOT think my choice is a good choice tbh, but I was so done with this guy, I just settled 💀 he’s an anteater cause he manipulated Salazar and is basically the reason everything happened.

Méndez - HE’S A SPIDER!!!!! Probably wouldn’t have the bow, but maybe he’s feeling fashionable you never know!!!

Sheva - Sheva my beloved 💖 I initially thought of a lioness, but turns out all the lioness models are just jaguar models 💀

Josh - The moment my eyes landed on Corgi #1767…I just knew…That’s just Josh!!! Okay, maybe he wouldn’t be a corgi, so I did some more digging and a bear model may also fit him perhaps???

Reynard - Perhaps a cat??? Or a fish to play on his last name???

Spencer - Hear me out. A lion. But an old Lion who’s way past his prime and is dethroned by another Lion (referencing my LPs stars post)

Irving - Irving lowkey looks like the greyhound model…plz tell me you see it too

Excella - Chinchilla or poodle?? Both are well groomed and love keeping clean (as clean as they can be) and stubborn.

Helena - She’d either be Spaniel #156 or Dachshund #172!

Piers - This new dog!!! He’s either a husky or wolf (I’ve also seen wolf dog), but he gives Piers energy fr fr. (Sorry it’s blurry, with this guy being new, the pics aren’t high quality yet)

Finn - He’s a capybara!! Finn I love you forever fr fr💖💖💖 I have this one and I adore it so much (also sorry the pic isn’t clean, this guy is new and I don’t think anyone has uploaded a transparent background pic yet!)

Jake - Fox #807! It has his red hair!! Also the fox and hound dynamic between him and Piers was too good to miss.

Simmons - Cat #055! Nothing much to say here other than ew…Simmons… (I love the kitty tho, droopy eyed kitties are the best)

Carla - I know she’s supposed to be a perfect copy of Ada, but I think it’d be super interesting if their colors were inverted or maybe white fur would start to peek out over time!

[johns-walker]

fifteen minutes

shepard leopold/f!reader (death of a unicorn)

cws; smut, basically p without plot, unsafe sex, hot tub sex, creampie, no real movie spoilers / 3.5k wc

big shout out to the one singular other person who felt compelled to write about him... lets get more people in this club. anyway i guess i write on this blog now or whatever.

It wasn’t every day that you were able to find a job where your boss would offer to bring you on an illusive weekend vacation so you could better learn the ins and outs of how the business worked - but, considering that you doubled as an assistant just as much as you did a trainee, you shouldn’t have been overly surprised when Elliot asked you to attend the meeting that he was having with Odell and his family at their home. 

What had surprised you, and seemingly everyone else in the car, was when Elliot had been so distracted that he didn’t notice the giant animal that was right in front of him. Granted, you didn’t notice it either. You were too busy trying to research everything that you hadn’t had time to look into when he sprung this trip on you. It wasn’t really his fault that Odell hadn’t gotten back to him about bringing two plus-one’s until the last minute, especially since it didn’t seem to be Odell’s decision at all, but rather Belinda who told Elliot that he could bring you along. 

Even still, you were blindsided and nose-deep in your reading when a large crash sent you lurching forward, gripping onto the edges of the seats in front of you and bracing for any sort of impact. The only impact seemed to be whatever the car had collided with, and upon inspection, it fully seemed that the car had collided with a unicorn. Now, did you want to say that the horned creature that your boss bludgeoned to death was probably a unicorn? Of course not! You wanted to pack it up in the back of the car, and uncomfortably sit in the trunk of the car with the luggage as you anxiously awaited the arrival at the mansion. 

With all of that considered, you were more than ready to try to put it behind you as you stepped out of the trunk. Stretching your body, you allowed yourself to augment to not being smushed in with all of your suitcases anymore. 

“Maybe we should put a blanket over it, or something. I brought a blanket.” You commented, acknowledging the anxious way that Elliot was peering into the window. “I mean, it’ll look like your car is super messy and damaged, but it’ll look better than a dead… creature in the back seat.” 

“Yeah, yeah-”

“Just go inside, I’ll take care of it.” 

“I can help you.” Ridley offered, though there seemed to be something off about her tone. You knew that she had witnessed something when she touched the unicorn’s horn, but whether that was something in her head or something real, you were unsure. Maybe she was just tormented from the idea that something was killed because of a car she was in. 

“It’s okay, I’ll take me a few seconds. They’re probably already annoyed at us.” 

After a moment, Elliot brought Ridley inside with him as you turned to the still-open trunk, grabbing the zipper on your luggage and taking out a blanket. Looping around to open the door to the backseat of the car - furthest away from the windows of the house - you couldn’t help but notice but looked to be twitching coming from the creature. Trying to brush it aside, you hoped that it was just some sort of post-mortem behavior. It wouldn’t be typical for twitching to occur so long after something had died, but this was a unicorn you were talking about, the science behind it obviously hadn’t been studied since - up to this point in time - it only seemed to be treated as a reality in ancient mythology. 

Quickly brushing your worries aside, you covered the creature with your blanket and reached into the front seat of the car to press a button, ensuring that the doors would lock once you closed the backseat. 

After a moment, you walked back around the car to shut the trunk before allowing yourself a moment to compose yourself and go inside. 

The moment you walked into the doors, you were greeted by the few pairs of eyes on you. At first, this made you a bit nervous. You hated the idea that was running through your head that these people could see right through you, that they knew what you had just covered up despite not seeing it with their own two eyes. 

Elliot saying your name got you out of that moment of insecurity, snapping back to reality as you looked at the people in the room. “This is my legal assistant, she’s just here to learn more about how this sort of thing works.” 

“Pleasure to finally meet you.” Belinda was the one to reach out to shake your hand, your demeanor switching back into one that you were more used to as you forced a smile onto your lips and took her hand into your own. 

“The pleasure is all mine, thank you for inviting me into your lovely home.” 

She nodded in response, seemingly pleased with at least one of the two people that Elliot had brought with him. But it wasn’t really her that caught your eye, it was her son - bathrobe-clad, sipping on a Bloody Mary, and somehow looking like the most attractive person who you were certain that you had ever met in anything related to your work. 

Noticeably, he seemed to straighten himself out a bit when he took note of there being a woman seemingly around his age in the same room as him. His movements down the steps were almost graceful, but not quite there. They didn’t need to be, though. You were more than happy to take the time to shake his hand as well, though you didn’t speak for a moment. 

“Shepard, Odell is my father.” 

“Nice to meet you, Shepard.” 

“You can call me Shep, if you want to.” 

You let a small smile cover your lips as you uttered his nickname, though your moment with him was quickly cut off by the sound of Belinda leading you all into the other room. Walking with her, you didn’t mind sticking behind a bit so you could stay closer to Shepard, and he seemed just as drawn to you as you were to him. Granted, he looked a bit like someone who you should write off as trouble. He was the son of the people who you indirectly worked for - indirectly or not, his family technically paid you. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care too much as you let him make silly comments about them in your ear, trying to suppress the laughs that wanted to come from your lips in response. It wasn’t until Elliot called you forward to review the documents that he was looking over that you finally snapped out of it and did what you were truly there to do - which wasn’t flirt. 

Though, you couldn’t help but notice the small glances from Belinda. She had invited you to her home, not her husband. She knew that you were close in age to her son, though you didn’t know his exact age, and she also knew that someone who spent her entire amount of free time working on legal documents probably didn’t have the time for much of a romantic life. All that being said, you were almost sure that she invited you there for the actual purpose of flirting, though you weren’t sure why yet. Maybe she just thought her son had been a bachelor for too long, or maybe it was something to do with his personality or habits. You couldn’t be too sure. 

What you could be sure about was that it didn’t seem to stop throughout the day, even with the weird developments that occurred. 

It wasn’t until later that evening, when his continuing questions about joining him in the hot tub got you to do what was being asked of you and change into the bathing suit that you had packed. As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but be glad that you brought a cute swimsuit. You half-considered packing swim trunks and a t-shirt because this was a work event, but you eventually decided that you would probably not be expected to be dressed professionally if you were to get into a pool or hot tub. 

Finally joining him at the hot tub, you would be remiss if you failed to notice the way that his eyes scanned over your body. You didn’t mind, though. You didn’t stop yourself from glancing at his chest, your eyes navigating around his body just as his did to yours. 

“Took you long enough.” He finally said, breaking the quiet of the moment. There was no real malice in his words, no expectation for you to have changed any sooner than you did. 

Setting the robe you brought out down beside his, you smiled widely as you stepped into the hot tub. “I overpacked, my swimsuit was kinda buried.” 

Shepard hummed in response, seemingly calmed by the warm water that he was sitting in. You wondered what it must’ve been like to be like he was, to have access to something like this every single day and not have to worry about paying the bills on an apartment that you could be kicked out of at the drop of a hat. But those thoughts left your head after a moment, sinking into the warmth of the water and letting a sigh leave your lips. 

“You’re sitting so far.” His voice almost came out like he was pouting, and as you opened your eyes to look at him, you noted that he was. Though, he was still failing to look at your eyes, his gaze flickering between your face and your chest that was just barely peaking out above the hot tub water. 

“I didn’t think it would be very considerate to sit right next to you.” You commented, though you had no gripes with moving so you were next to him. You were next to him at dinner, too. In fact, you were pretty sure he had yet to leave your side if it wasn’t for either of you changing, using the bathroom, or Elliot wanting to speak to you about something privately. For the most part, you had remained together, so you weren’t too perturbed or even surprised by sitting so close to him, his arm still splayed out on the rim of the hot tub and now directly behind your back. 

“I think it would be inconsiderate not to.” 

Turning your head so you could look at him, you took note of the proximity. You knew that he was sitting close to you now, hip to hip even, but you didn’t take into account just how close he was until you were both looking at each other. Your breath caught in your throat for a moment, your eyes trying to remain on his. But if he was going to let his eyes bounce between your lips and your tits and barely look into your eyes, why should you be worried about trying to maintain a polite amount of eye contact.

“You know, I’m pretty sure my mom invited you here because she knew I’d like you.” He stated, his words echoing the thoughts that you had been having for hours. But you were too distracted to agree, as you felt him press a hand on the back of your neck. He was respectful with his touches, his hand light enough that you could easily pull away if you so desired. “She worries too much, because I used to go hard on the drugs.” 

Ah. That would make more sense. You almost wanted to ask if he was still doing them, if that was why he had such odd behavior at times. But you didn’t want to pry, you didn’t want to take the time to ruin the moment. You knew what was coming, and you knew from the aching between your thighs that you wanted it to happen. Interrupting it so you could ask someone you just met about something so personal just seemed like it would turn the whole interaction sour. 

“I hope she was right, at least. About you liking me.” 

“Oh, I do. Why else would I have asked you to sit so close?” His voice almost seemed genuinely confused, rather than teasing. It made you laugh, but he quickly concealed that laugh as he pressed his lips against yours. 

Despite the sudden action, you responded quickly to his affections and kissed him back. Your hand moved to rest on his arm that was behind you as you turned slightly so you were facing him, your knee pressing into his thigh in a way that wasn’t uncomfortable for him, but did make it clear to you both how close you were sitting and your change in position. Shepard didn’t waste too much time before letting his tongue brush against your lower lip, his hand that wasn’t behind you and pressed against your neck moving to squeeze your hip. 

“You ever get fucked in a hot tub?” His voice was matter-of-fact but slightly breathy as he pulled back, urging you to move so you were sitting on his lap - something that you happily complied with. 

“Can’t say that I have.” You responded, though your voice was more strained than you would’ve imagined. “But- but, you know, anyone could come out here.” 

That didn’t stop him from pressing his lips against your neck, a sigh leaving your throat. It didn’t help matters that you could feel how hard he was getting underneath you, his hands sliding down to rest on your ass. You wanted to remind him that this was a bad place to do this, that you could very easily go inside. But you really didn’t want to stop him, you wanted to do whatever he wanted to do because you knew that you wanted it to. 

The moment he pulled away from you ever-so-slightly so he could look at you, waiting for your permission to do what he was about to do as he brought a hand up to the fabric of your bikini top, his fingers teasing the edges of it as though he was about to pull it just slightly away from your chest, you knew that you would let him do anything to you.

“We just need to be quick, I think Elliot said he was about to take a shower anyway.” You finally said, a smile covering his face as he pulled the fabric of your top away from your chest, his lips moving so he could wrap them around your nipple. You let out a quiet moan, taking your lip between your teeth in an attempt to silence yourself. Though, it was difficult to find any sort of silence as you felt his hips slightly grind against yours, his hardened cock pressed right where you needed him to be pressed throughout the layers of your swimsuits. 

Bringing your hands away from the water, you let them explore the expanse of his torso as he pulled the other side of your bikini top away from your other breast, giving his attention to that nipple as well. You let your hands navigate lower, undoing the draw-string on his swimming trunks. You knew that you were going to have to be quick, just as he did. You could take your time with each other later, but if you wanted to do this, you were going to have to do it as fast as possible. Besides that, you were certain if you didn’t have him inside of you soon you were probably going to have some sort of emotional breakdown. 

The feeling of one of his hands sliding down your body got your attention as you locked eyes with him, the same desire that you were sure was in your eyes reflecting in his as he reached in between your thighs. You parted them slightly, better straddling his legs as he pushed your bottoms to the side. The water surrounding you made it easy for him to run his fingers through your folds, but you were sure you were wet enough already for it have been just fine without the help.

You did your best to keep quiet as his fingers ran circles around your clit, before sliding lower so you could push two of them inside of you. 

“So fucking tight, are you sure you’re going to be able to take it?” His voice was strained as you let your hand dip beneath his swimming trunks, pulling his cock out of them and taking him into your hand. The moan that left his throat as you pumped him for the first time was downright sinful, and you were sure that you needed to hear more of that. 

“I can take it, Shep. Please, just fuck me.” 

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” He reassured, before removing his fingers from your cunt, you whined at the intrusion, though his hand wrapped around yours quickly after so he could help you guide his cock to your aching cunt. Shepard pushed himself inside of you, but let you sink your hips down until you were situated in his lap again. He gave you a moment to adjust to the size of him, but shortly after you pressed your lips against his as you started to move your hips. 

Shepard allowed the slow pace for a few moments, just holding onto your hips rather than guiding you as you found your rhythm in fucking him. He liked watching you in control, liked kissing you while you took what you needed from him - while your slow, drawn-out moans filled mouth and vibrated against his lips. 

But he was impatient, and he understood just as you did that you needed to be quick if you were going to do this. He found that it took little effort to begin thrusting into you, guiding your hips down against his in a quicker pace. He let one hand leave your hips, his finger pressing against your clit again. You broke the kiss as you let your forehead rest against his, your moans mingling together and ever-so-quiet as to lot alert the people inside of the house as to what you were doing. 

“When we go inside-” He started, though his voice came out as more of a growl that was cut off by a moan. “I’m going to bend you over my desk, and fuck you until you can’t remember why you came here.” 

You were almost ashamed to admit that the only think that came out of your lips was a whimpered ‘please’, but you knew that if you tried to say anything else you would make more noise than you intended on making, or could make given the circumstances. 

The feeling that someone might make an appearance outside intensified within you as he got you closer and closer to the edge, your face pressing into his neck to muffle the noises that wanted to fill the air. He let you press against him, his movements becoming a bit disoriented especially as you bit down onto his neck. But he let you finish before him, the feeling of your walls tightening around him making him just as thoroughly satisfied as he came. If you were in a more oriented stated of mine, you would have disliked how much you enjoyed the feeling of his cum filling you, but instead you just let your lips press against his neck, sucking a mark onto his skin as you rode out your orgasms. 

Finally, after a few moments, you caught your breath and pulled him into a sloppy kiss, whimpering into it as you felt him pull himself out of you and tuck himself back into his trunks. You did the same after a moment, adjusting your bathing suit so it looked like it did before he moved it. 

It only took a minute or so for you to decide to move, letting yourself sit beside him and pulling your lips away from his. You were glad that you did, too, because it was only shortly after that Elliot would come out from the house and all three of you would decide that it would be a much better idea to go inside. 

Shepard would make good on his promise after you got inside, multiple times throughout the night, in fact. Even if neither of you could shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen in the coming days, you were still excited by the prospect of something so new. Maybe, if circumstances were different, you’d have to consider the possibility of actually forgetting why you came here.

[asksteverandle]

Hows it going after all the problems

Uh…it’s goin’. I guess.

Soda ain’t doin’ too hot after everything plus Sandy, and I’m not doin’ too hot either. Soda keeps talking about driving out to Florida to visit Sandy, even though she’s made it real clear she ain’t into seein’ him any time soon…and man, he’s been starting more fights. I’m no girl or nothin’, I’m always down for a fight, but…y’know…he’s never been so…volatile before, I guess. He keeps gettin’ hurt, too. It uh…it freaks me out to tell ya the truth. Uh don’t tell Darry I said that about the fight thing, I promised Soda I’d keep it from Darry.

I’m kinda worried about Ponyboy too to tell ya the truth, the kid’s head was always in the clouds but now it seems like it’s in outer space sometimes. He’s not getting rough like Soda has been…least not very. I mean, more than he was. But he still…he still cares, and all. I didn’t know how much it would matter to me, that the kid still…cares. But he left school without shoes the other day too though…so like…I worry about his brain. And Jesus, there was that week where he wouldn’t believe Johnny was gone- God. It was…it was a lot. It’s been a lot.

I’m doing…I don’t even know how I’m doing, man.

I stole Dal’s St. Christopher from the funeral home, been wearin’ it under my shirt. I guess it shoulda gone to someone closer to him, like Shepard or Sylvia, be we was pretty close too. And anyhow, ain’t my fault I beat them to it. Two-Bit took Dal’s rings, said they was payment for his switchblade, but he said it in that way where it seems like he’s just joking so that he don’t cry instead…

I’ve been crying a lot lately. It’s so damn stupid.

I’ve probably been bein a shit boyfriend, but Evie’s stuck by me, which means a whole lot. I’m gonna marry her someday if she lets me. I swear to God I am.

I miss Dally and Johnny. I keep lookin’ for them, expectin’ to see them places, and then they ain’t there. I dunno why that always shocks me, seein’ they ain’t there, but it does.

My old man came to their funeral with me. That’s the first time I cried in front of him without him gettin’ mad at me in a real long time. But he didn’t…he hugged me. Like I was some dumb little kid.

Holy hell, I didn’t know how much I missed that.

[certifiedlesbianvampire]

CAN THEY COOK?- project: eden's garden cooking headcanons

detailed explanation for each placement, starting from "let them cook" to "do not let them in a kitchen unsupervised." everything's below the cut:

LET THEM COOK

-ingrid and eloise have big families and they have siblings, so it only makes sense they can cook well. desmond's mom and dad run a chain restaurant, so i feel like he'd be a good cook by proxy. -if there are people you trust to take you to a good restaurant, i feel like it'd be wenona, toshiko, and jean. partially vibes based but wenona would know when those ingredients are good and fresh, toshiko would appreciate expensive but also simple and affordable meals and jean has enough experience around his crew to understand how people's palates differ (as well as having tried a variety of dishes) -grace is an athlete. she will have her "cheat days" but other than that she is DEDICATED. veggies and grains before playing and protein after. i feel like she'd hate those weird health shakes though. she makes and breaks the rules as she wishes

-kai is the type of guy who strikes me as someone who is a good cook. there are a few dishes he can make off the top of his head and they're probably all specific internet dishes (i.e. pancakes, breakfast bowl, veggie pasta... myriad of drinks etc.) buttt i think if you asked him to just fry an egg he'd somehow burn it.

-damon's parents probably taught him how to cook as a life skill and also as #bondingtime. he'd probably know how to make some traditional japanese dishes but like i also feel like he gets a bit lazy with cooking sometimes (either because he's too locked in studying or he's just tired). so like, a bowl of cereal or a boiled egg and plain toast and a banana. i like to think kai and co. bring him to restaurants or cook with him so it's easier.

-diana, diana, diana. if you believe that she is italian then i do think she could cook some great italian food. but in all honesty i feel like half of her meals are things you don't have to cook (as in over a stove or in an oven). diana 100% is a baker though. she is the type of person to bring freshly baked brownies for the class. i headcanon she, ingrid, toshiko and eloise help her out.

What the hell, sure.

-i am so hard pressed to believe these guys eat enough veggies.

-all busy + don't feel like cooking + it's faster to take out food. once in a while they will cook but it is rare. their food is edible to them and that's all that matters

-cassidy is a MENACE on the grill though (proof? that one eden's island promotional art). ask her to fucking grill anything and she will DELIVER. same goes with jett but i believe cassidy is the better grill dad here

-this is a joke but why can I see jett, cassidy and mark going to restaurants guy fieri style

DO NOT LET THEM COOK

-i feel like eva is the type of person to be like "i can cook" but she ABSOLUTELY cannot. you'll be in the kitchen with her and she would be too embarrassed to admit she can't despite the fact she is continuously failing. she gets the hang of it after a while -wolfgang doesn't know how to do his own laundry so i assume he can't cook (bc he spent all his time studying as a kid) -if you asked ulysses if he could cook he'd be like "sort of?" he can follow a recipe, but if something goes wrong he panics a bit. i think he forgets to feed himself sometimes -i think tozu would make a mean shepard's pie (pun not intended). i feel like he likes french food. while he jokes about british food he finds it very unexciting and bland. he is genuinely a good cook but would absolutely troll you by putting a "secret ingredient" in his food (i.e. putting pineapple in lasagna) unfortunately, this would be ineffective on someone like kai or eva who like "weirder" food combos