#this team got put through SO MUCH bullshit but they were always there for each other and i 😭😭😭

[mo-ok]

What's a Red without their Blue?

Choujuu Sentai Liveman

Yusuke Amamiya & Megumi Misaki

[wyniepooh]

aaron

hotch doesn't really like when fellow members of the team calls him by his first name. for you, however, maybe he can make an exception.

traumatized!hotch core, mentions of stabbing and TW: foyet 😔. The team investigates a case that reminds hotch of f*yet, he is not well and reader sees right through him. bau!reader, hurt/comfort/fluff that turns into something a lil more towards the end slightly bc it’s hotch so i can’t help myself .

hotch preferred when everyone called him by his last name. he never explicitly said it, but it was an unspoken rule of sorts. whether it was hotchner, hotch, or even whatever nickname penelope often came up with, he didn’t mind. as long as it wasn’t aaron.

'aaron' felt too personal to use with his co-workers. too intimate. as much as you guys were like a family, hearing aaron come out of spencer’s mouth would be as strange as a quiet crime scene.

and hell, was this crime scene hectic. the aftermath of a negotiation involving drawn weapons was always hazy— body overfilled with adrenaline and running on approximately three hours of sleep. all the law enforcement agents you could think of was present, interviewing people, collecting samples. all the lights and voices didn't help with the anxiety. but this scenario in particular had everyone scrambling to collect their thoughts.

hotch, especially. the mo of the unsub was eerily similar to that of foyet— the intricate stabbing that ensured the victim suffered long and hard but was still conscious enough to feel every inch of the next stab. the whole team was aware of the elephant stealing all the oxygen in the room, but no one really knew what to say or do given hotch’s constant stern affirmation that he was fine.

and so the whole team walked into the local police department in silence, hotch leading as the rest of you trailed behind. tired of the crickets practically sounding, you cleared your throat and exclaimed,

“so, does anyone want to get some food? i saw an authentic taco sta-“

your words trailed off as your eyes followed the figure in front of you, who was walking away haggardly towards the washrooms. you turned back towards your teammates, all of them shrugging and letting out a sigh. eventually, they all walked away with a promise to fulfill your hungry request and disappeared to their work stations.

you stood outside the bathrooms for at least five minutes, taking a step forward, then back. forward, then back. finally, you shook your head quickly, straightened your shoulders, and pushed the door into the room.

"h-hey! this is the men's-"

you didn't bother to acknowledge the young police officer by the urinal who was frantically pulling up his pants. you simply lifted an extended arm and nodded to silence him. you walked to the front of the stall where you spotted hotch's perfectly polished shoes, and stopped. once the guy left, you knocked on the door.

“hotch? i know you’re in there.”

silence. you began tapping your foot and crossed your arms, blowing out a rush of air. exasperated, you repeated again, “hotchner. open up. please.”

a click enabled you to release a breath of relief, the door opening to reveal hotch sitting on the closed toilet, head looking down with his hands crossed in between his legs.

“listen… i know you said you’re fine and that you're good to keep going, but we both know that’s bullshit. we know you. too well, even. we can tell that you're struggling, whether you like it or not. it’s obvious this case has brought up…”

your voice progressively got more silent as you noticed the response you got. silence. it wasn’t until you stopped talking did you realize his rapidly rising shoulders for each breath he took, and the way he fidgeted with his hands to hide the shaking. you immediately knelt down to his level, putting both hands on his shoulder.

“hotch? hey-“

“i'm sorry,” he mumbled.

“what?”

“i’ve been dismissive the whole day. i want to say it’s simply because i didn’t sleep last night, or the night before that, and that is part of it but… the reason i haven’t been able to sleep is because of the case. i thought the therapy was enough, i thought it would be fine once i was distracted with work,” he sighed, “i know i’ve made you all uncomfortable and i don’t know what to do about it. i wish i-“

“hotch.”

“-could just open up. i’m so sor-“

“aaron.”

he stopped his sentence midway and found your concerned eyes.

you chuckled, “if you say sorry one more time, i’m going to really make you sorry.”

it took a second for aaron to muster out a laugh as well, but eventually he did, and the sound put a genuine smile on your face.

still kneeling, your hand came up to softly caress his jaw. “don’t apologize for how you’re feeling, aaron. i’ll admit that the atmosphere is a little more tense than usual, but let's be honest here," you dropped your hand from his face, “we're all tense. we're profilers, for gods sake. what are we but tense?"

aaron gave a nod of approval, his lip curving into a small smile.

"and also, don't feel obligated to talk to us. everyone has their own coping methods. we're just reminding you that if you do need a person to talk to... we're here to lend an ear. and of course, we hope you remember that it's more than okay to take a break or admit you're uncomfortable. we get it. we won’t judge.”

you feigned a thinking face, “well, rossi might judge a little, but at least we won’t!”

he snickered and nodded again at your words, taking a deep breath. his hands had stopped shaking and his breaths seem to be more regulated. you smiled at him one last time before the both of you began to stand up.

as aaron straightened himself, he realized something. he didn't like the others calling him by his first name, but there was something different about the way his name sounded rolling off of your tongue. in fact, he would do anything to hear you say 'aaron' again.

before you could both exit, the stall door behind you suddenly closed. a surprised ‘oh’ left your lips, and aaron looked equally as confused. the inclosed space pushed you closer to him, and just for a second, you saw his eyes flicker to your lips. you expected him to open the door like a gentlemen or apologize for the close proximity, but nothing ever came. you opened your mouth to say something, but all you could breathe was a quiet whisper of his name before he crashed his lips onto yours.

-

a/n: the washroom stall door was truly a paid actor.

[daydreamgoddess14]

Saturday Mornings

MASTERLIST

🤸‍♀️ Well , well, well, didn't take long to get me back on my bullshit, did it? 🤣 I bring you a Roy Kent smutty one shot. Enjoy the gorgeousness of this man 🥵

Roy doesn't have a thing for Phoebe's dance teacher. Until he does. 👀

For @littleesilvia 😘

Saturday Mornings

Saturday morning had always been for Phoebe. From the day she was born, Roy had dedicated every Saturday morning to her. In the first weeks of her birth, he'd let himself into his sister's house and picked up a squawking Phoebe from the moses basket and taken care of her from 6-10 am so his sister could get more sleep. In those early days, he'd spoken to her in his deep, gruff voice while she drifted in and out of sleep. Then they'd go for a walk to the shop, the neighbours peeping into the buggy until Roy had growled at them to "Fuck off and stop gawping at her, she's trying to fucking sleep." As she got a little older, it became cartoons and cereal - devoured together on the sofa, and then a trip to the park. He'd arranged everything for 9 years around his Saturday mornings with Phoebe. Even away matches with a midday kick off didn't stop him, it didn't matter if it was an hour, or five hours - match day or no match day, rain or shine, if he was single or not, Uncle Roy would be there. Their time alone together moved through her swimming lessons phase, gymnastics phase, and morphed into his coaching her kids team. He wanted to be on board with this next phase - really, he did. 

 

After 8 weeks of lessons, he'd finally put his finger on what the problem was. The dancing was nothing new, Phoebe had tried ballet, tap, some weird toddler baby dance shit. 16 weeks ago, she'd switched to some kind of pop/tween dance class with a lovely older woman who mostly sat to one side and pointed to each move, each music transition. It had been great, 8.30-9.30am every Saturday, fucking wonderful. Then 8 weeks ago, that woman had switched classes and you had taken over. You, with your tight Tik Tok leggings and your cropped t-shirt. You who showed the kids each move over and over again. The number of dad's attending the class had suddenly gone up. It had been 6 months since he thought that he and Keeley could try again, but she'd made it clear that that was not the case. He'd been single for longer than 6 months before, sure, but not for a long time. Back then in his younger days, he'd thought nothing of a mutually convenient resolution with a friend until he met his next significant other. He’d come to the conclusion now that he was too fucking old for a friends with benefits situation. 

 

If it was just Saturday mornings that were the problem, he could live with that. He started out by taking a book and ignoring the class completely, but Phoebe did not like that at all. So he switched to audiobooks, brought a pair of fucking ear buds so he could drown out the sound of your voice, your gentle encouragement and the giggles. If it wasn’t the leggings going to tip him over the edge, it was going to be the giggles. Or the praise. Weird, he didn’t realise he had a bit of a praise kink before. Then he heard you in a breathy voice saying something that definitely could apply to situations other than a 9 year olds dance class and nearly had to leave the room. No, it wasn’t just Saturday mornings anymore. You came to mind now at the most inconvenient times. Sitting on the bike while Jamie pulled him along at 5am when shouting at Jamie in the street would have been frowned upon and they instead trained quietly, whenever one of the kids dance routine songs came on the radio and he was forced to relive watching you teach them, at night in the dark when he was alone, in the shower… He absolutely had to stop thinking about you like this. Like you’d see it in his eyes when you waved good morning, or when he held his bank card over your little hand held machine to pay for the classes. He also couldn’t stand the very much married men who flirted so openly with you. Clearly telling their wives at home, no love, I’ll take little… Mabel to dance class, you stay here and have a lie in and a cup of tea.  

 

It was funny how they’d migrated from the later morning class which was run by a woman who had the body shape of a fucking pencil. Beautiful, yeah she wasn’t bad. But she didn’t have the strong thighs you did, the sweeping curve of your hip into a cute little waist. He couldn’t go another week like this. Had to stop now, stop being so pervy. He was no better than the other blokes who came to watch their kids' class. Except he was slightly better, because he was actually single. 

“Uncle Roy, we’re here, come on!” Phoebe was already half out of the car. He braced himself for another week of torture.

“Good morning guys! Come in, I’m just getting set up.” You called out from across the room. He was a bit too early really. Not intentionally, of course not. You were still in your hoodie, still setting up the portable speaker and drinking a Costa coffee. You put a song on in the background and he had to hold his breath while you pulled off the warm grey sweater. As it came off, it pulled the baggy cropped t-shirt up as well, exposing your sports bra underneath, the soft skin of your stomach. It was definitely soft whenever he thought about it anyway. You straightened yourself out and sat on the floor, stretching your legs out in front of you and reaching forward to your toes. Phoebe lept out of her seat, threw her coat at Roy and plonked herself down in front of you, mirroring your pose. “Joining me for a warm up Phoebs?” 

“It’s important to warm up. My Uncle Roy is a football coach and he says it’s the most important part.”

“He’s not wrong.” You smiled, moving through some other poses and stretches. He was a dead man. This was it. The end, this was how it was going to go. You stretch your arms up as far as you can reach them, stretching out your back with a little pop. He tried to ignore the fucking Grecian vase shape your body made, truly. Until you’d made a noise a little too close to a moan for his liking, followed by, “Holy shit that feels good.”

 

Fucking hell. Fucking hell .

 

“Sorry Phebs, didn’t mean to swear.”

“It’s ok. I’ll let you off the first time, but you owe me a pound next time.”

“Aww thanks.” The class soon filled up, he wished he’d taken a seat way at the back, out of the way so he could either look at you without it being so noticeable, or ignore you completely. He totally respected your classes, he really did. It was a tricky thing, conducting an age appropriate class for 9 year olds which avoided sexualising dance moves but also made them feel like they were able to move their bodies how they wanted to. Of course, it’s not always the dance moves themselves which could be seen as sexual, more often it’s the person watching who makes that connotation. And he tried so, so hard not to do that. Tried desperately to not think about how your body would move underneath his, on top of his, the beautiful sounds he could draw from you. He needed to get out, feigned a phone call, holding up his phone as he got to the door so you knew he’d be right outside if Phoebe needed anything. He didn’t think you’d even seen him until you gave him a little thumbs up. 

 

At the end of the class, you encourage the kids to just sit for a minute. You all usually end up sprawled on your backs, not having to make eye contact makes it easier for some of the kids to talk openly if they wanted help or an opinion on something. It was somewhat of an eye opener for the parents as well. This week, you had the kids sit up so they could see you, 

“I thought I might take you on a little trip, if you guys fancy it? I was going to go and see the new Barbie film after class next week. If any of you want to come with me, with your grown up - of course - then we could have a really exciting morning! I’m not allowed to take any of you without another grown up though, ok? So you’ll have to check with them first.” You handed each of them a little pink party invite. He already knew before Phoebe asked. Their match next week was on Sunday so he was free all of Saturday morning. He had no excuse to not take her, he also didn’t think he wanted one. 

 

He hoped you were a little bit dumb. It was a horrible thought, he knew that, to wish stupidity on someone. But if there was any chance of him making a full recovery and banishing you to the depths of his mind, never to turn up again - especially not when he was in the shower with his hand around himself, he really fucking hoped that you were dumber than a box of rocks. You weren’t. He already had an inkling of that, but he could still live in hope. 

“Fancy the Barbie movie next week?” You’d asked brightly as he’d held out his card to pay, he wasn’t sure if it was the physical and mental turmoil of having to watch you for the last hour, but he thought he could detect a sliver of hope in your voice.

“Fucking probably, she won’t let me say no.” Phoebe held out a hand for her pound. “Add it to my tab.” 

 

And of course, that’s how he found himself in a dark cinema the following week with a gaggle of kids around him. He was still trying to work out if it was a blessing or a curse that he’d ended up sitting next to you - it had certainly earned him glares from one or two of the other grown ups. As you laughed again at another joke aimed to sail just over pre-teen heads, he knew it was a curse. It had to be. Forced to listen to that laugh for two hours? Fucking torture. When you cried, he knew he was done for. He reached over, just a little and patted the back of your hand in comfort. Just a little there, there gesture. You’d only fucking gripped his hand and squeezed it, he stole a glance at you and you’d given him a watery smile and a little lopsided shrug. Then you’d let go of his hand, and turned back to the movie. He had to spend the remaining 45 minutes of the film trying not to think about your warm hands carefully exploring his body. 

 

The following week, he did it.

“Would you like to go for a coffee sometime?” He asked quietly as his card payment went through. He didn’t think you’d heard him until you looked up sharply.

"Aren't you like way out of my league?"

"What league is that then?”

“Well, you're in the ridiculously fit footballer league? Y’know for people who date supermodels and influencers?”

“I wouldn't fucking know about that.”

“I'm sure you would, I'm sure they don’t kick you out once you retire. Once a fit footballer, always a fit footballer? Is that the name of it? The… F. I. T? Or is it just the R.F.F.L?”

“What's that stand for?”

“No idea, it's your league, you tell me. Footballers Into Tits?”

“That’s a shit acronym”

“I know. I can do better, promise. Give me a minute.”

“I'm sure you'd be alright in that league” He said quietly,

“Excuse me? That was very cheeky. Ohh, maybe it could stand for ‘Filthy rich but Impossibly Tedious’?”

“That’s pretty good, definitely suits some footballers I know. Alright, fine. What fucking league are you in, then?”

“Whatever the Conference equivalent of the F.I.T is.”

“Now that can’t be true.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know?”

“I just fucking do. Is it a yes to coffee?”

“I mean, I still think you’re way too high up the F.I.T for me, but sure.”

“It’s the R.F.F.L actually.” He smirks as you hand him a flyer for the class. 

“My number is on there.” You tell him, then you’d walked away without taking his number, which meant he was going to have to be the one to contact you first. No, you definitely weren’t dumb. Shit .

 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was a combination of factors really, a busy week at work meant though he’d messaged you quickly, he wasn’t actually able to meet for coffee until the end of the week. So you’d spent all week in a message exchange which had ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous.

“Would you rather fight 100 tiny Jamie Tartt’s or 1 giant one?”

“100 tiny ones. I’d fucking stamp on them all.”

“Figured out what league you’re in.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Champions League.”

“Fuck off am I. I’ve wikipedia’d your dating history mate. Gina Gershon? I think I should cancel coffee now…”

“Fuck, please don’t.”

“Do you always try so hard to look like you’re not looking at dance class?”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uhuh. Ok.”

“Yes, I do. Every week is torture.”

“Jamie says I’m too old for the R.F.F.L.”

“Maybe that works in my favour. If I’m up against Gina fucking Gershon, I’d have no chance.”

“You’re not up against anyone.”

“I've been thinking about you all morning.”

“Was that flirting? Were you just flirting with me?”

“Shut up. See you later.”

And now… well. Coffee at 3pm on a Friday turned into dinner at 6pm, dessert at 8pm and a nightcap at 10pm in his kitchen. You tapped the edge of your empty tumbler,

“Another?” He asked, leaning against the counter just across from you.

“No, thank you. I should… go.” The lift at the end meant it could have been a statement, could have been a question. He nodded,

“Early class.”

“Yep. I think we lost track of time.”

“Or not,” he offered,

“Or not,” you bit your lip and he felt indecision fluttering in his chest. He pushed off the counter and closed the gap between you both in only one step.

“If I kissed you now, would you be mad?” He asked softly, he could see your body tremble with the breath you took.

“Think I’d be more mad if you didn’t.” He watched you hold his gaze for as long as you could before looking at his mouth. He took the tumbler from you and put it on the counter before placing a careful hand on your hip and leaning down to kiss you. The warm whisky taste of vanilla and honey mingled with the chocolate from your dessert and Roy realised that no, he hadn’t been tortured before, watching you teach a bunch of kids how to dance wasn’t the way he was going to go. This was. Right here in his kitchen with your arms winding around his neck and bringing him as close as you could possibly get him. Your fingers scratching through his hair. He pressed you into the counter, 

“I’ve thought about doing this for a long time,” he whispered, kissing down your neck, making you gasp. He pulled away quickly, worried that it was too much too soon, “Shit, sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” He went to move further back to give you space but your hands gripped his shirt to pull him back in,

“Please, I don’t want to stop,” you breathed heavily, “I don’t want you to stop.” You said, more firmly. He was against you again in an instant,

“Sure?” He asked, “You’re sure?” You stepped up to kiss him, making your feelings very clear,

“I’m sure.” Your fingers flew to the buttons of his shirt, undoing the first couple. He pulled you away from the counter, strong arms wrapped around your back and lifted you enough to move you both to the sofa. You stumbled against the cushions, falling backwards and pulling him with you so that he landed heavily on top of you.

"Oof."

“Fuck, sorry. You ok?” He sits back up on his knees, allowing you to automatically move your legs to either side of his and sit up,

“Never better,” his smile catches you off guard, “fuck, you’re gorgeous.” You mumble, reaching for him. The feeling is more than mutual. He needs to feel your kiss again, desperate to feel your skin on his. It’s better than anything he’d spent the last 8 weeks dreaming of. And the sounds you made as his hands and kisses explored your body were enough to drive him insane. He moves further down your body, pulling your skirt down with him and immediately turns to trail kisses and little bites along your inner thigh while his hand reaches up to link fingers with yours.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his breath hot against your hip. The simple request alone made your body turn to liquid against him. He’d spent so long thinking about (denying, debating, ignoring) the effect you had on him, he hadn’t actually considered that you would be just as affected by him. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he looked y’know, alright , for an older bloke. But still, seeing it first hand… seeing it first hand, hearing it first hand, from you was really something else entirely. You tugged his hand to bring up back up to you but he shook his head, his beard catching the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, “busy,” he said, his voice muffled. He focused on nothing but you, losing himself in each gasp, moan and clutch of your hand still holding his. He worked you through one bone-shaking orgasm without stopping, leaving you a shuddering mess as he went straight for another. Looking up at you, he could see the hand that wasn’t clinging onto him had covered your eyes. This time when you squeezed his hand, he made his way back up your body and settled between your legs. “You ok?” he asked, leaving soft kisses on your jaw before finally capturing your mouth in a filthy kiss. You didn’t speak, just shook your head. “You taste fucking incredible.” He kissed you again and you whimpered, finally moving your hand away from your eyes.

“I’ve got a problem.”

“Oh yeah?” He said, moving back to your neck, a hand slipping behind you to unclip your bra.

“Yeah I thought you’d only want a one night thing but that’s impossible now.”

“It was fucking impossible anyway. One night is definitely not enough time.”

“Oh,” you whispered weakly. “Good. Please-, oh fuck,” he caught a nipple lightly between his teeth, “please don’t stop.” So he didn’t, and he never would again if it was up to him. When he’d been (much) younger, he fully grasped the importance and concept of consent. He was a professional footballer - it wasn’t just important, it was crucial. But as he’d gotten older, he finally realised just how much better saying, and hearing, the words made everything. Being able to ask, “may I?” and “I need to hear you say it” and waiting, waiting, waiting, for the breathy response had never left him so wrecked before. He pushed into you in long, slow strokes while you met him with each roll of your hips. When you hold his jaw tightly to bring his gaze to yours, he nearly falls apart but he's determined to get you there first and he knows you're so close. "You feel so good-," you whisper, "So good."

"Fuck, I need-"

"I know, I'm right with you." His name is on you lips as you come and he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. When he joins you, he kisses you with such depth it's like you were made for him. You lay still together for a while as you catch your breath. He keeps his nose in the crook of your neck while his hand softly smooths across your ribs and the side of your breasts. Your legs no longer lock around him, you stretch out and enjoy the weight of his body covering you. 

"'M crushing you," he mumbles. His voice so low in your ear makes you shiver and despite you not being ready for another round quite so soon, your hips buck, "Fucking hell, give me a minute," he laughs.

"You're not crushing me, and I'm not ready yet either," you grin into his hairline and kiss his temple. 

"Hmm if you say so." He rocks against you, half hard again already, needing to hear the broken little moan that ghosts over his head. "Come on, I want you in a bed this time."

 

He wasn't happy when you had to tear yourself from his bed at 7am to go home. He wasn't happy when he picked Phoebe up at 8am. He wasn't happy in the drive thru Costa queue at 8.10am. He was happy at 8.20am when he finally got to hand you your coffee and see your smile as you stretched out on the floor of the dance studio. He was perfectly happy knowing that you'd be torturing his Saturday mornings for a while longer. 

 

FIN

[winterwandersland]

NEW STORY ALERT❗️❗️

Echoes of Mercy

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Black!Fem!Reader Call of Duty x The 100 x Resident Evil Word Count: 3.7k tw/cw: blood, shooting, self-harm, death After you and your unit were declared MIA two years before, Task Force 141 is assigned another mission, one that could help put a stop to the ongoing epidemic in the United States. The country was suffering and the death toll was rising. Ghost can't help but to think about you, Enyo “Merci” Abara. Merci, is what they called you. Given the name because of your wishful thinking and light that you gave to every soldier you worked with. As a soldier, you were supposed to kill, but you did everything you could to not have to follow that path. But when it came down to it, you made sure your targets didn't suffer, always being thanked for putting an end to their suffering. However, the mission that is supposed to save the world may now give evidence to your unit's last location and that the world may be at greater stakes than first assumed.  You are referred to as "Merci" a majority of the time, with minor/rare use of first or last names.

Chapter 1

The day you disappeared was the day Simon Riley broke. That day, both of your units were coming back from a joint operation, tasked with capturing a terrorist, one that used to be your colonel. Your mentor. Your best friend.

Ghost was lucky he wasn’t stripped of his title of Lieutenant after he practically lost his mind when they found out that your plane was nowhere to be found.

Today was the two-year anniversary of you and your team’s disappearance. General Shepherd called a meeting with the 141, the last unit to see you and your team alive. You were supposed to meet at the hospital to rescue your prisoner before detaining her, but you all never showed up.

There was no plane. No bodies. Nothing.

The plane’s tracker was defective. It said you were there. At the landing point on top of the hospital building. But there was nobody there. No one could make sense of it. Not Soap. Not Gaz or Laswell. Not Price. And especially not Ghost.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the team, Simon and you had a deal. You both kept personal trackers on each other to always know where the other was at in case anything ever happened. He knew you’d never take it off. Not without letting him know.

His was kept on the back of his dog tags. You insisted that you should do the same, but he felt that yours should be tailored to you. He knew how much you cared for your hair and tried to keep it healthy even through the dry conditions you all were constantly in. So, he got one that you could use to clip in your hair.

It was easily hidden in your curls, wrapped around your military regulated bun. It just looked like an ordinary clip in your hair and did no damage to the curls that you and Simon cherished.

He should have been able to track you. If the plane's tracker couldn't be located, he should have been able to locate you. He should have been able to find you. If he found you, he’d find your team, but you were the most important to him, at least. If anyone was found, it had to be you. He just hoped that wherever you were, you were granted mercy.

“As you all know, today has officially marked two years since the disappearance of Squadron Eight. I know that this may be a hard day for you all, and I hope that you all have found some peace over these last two years. But as you know, when there has been no trace or any leads of any persons, they must be declared KIA. I hate-,” Shepherd started before being interrupted by a pissed off Lieutenant.

“This is bullshit!” Ghost yelled as he banged his hand on the desk, causing it to shake and startling the rest of the team. “They aren’t dead!”

Laswell was accompanying Shepherd for times like this. Times when she knew Shepherd wouldn’t be able to calm the Lieutenant or any other 141 members who may lose their temper at the news. She motioned her hand at Ghost, letting him know to calm down. You were important to him. While you two never confirmed the relationship, the subtle change to the same home address told Price and Laswell all they needed to know.

“I know that this isn’t the news you all wanted to hear,” Laswell began, witnessing the huff and puff of the Lieutenant. Everyone else did their best to keep their composure, but they were hurting, too, their breaths becoming more drawn out.

Squadron Eight was the only team the 141 would always agree to work with. From the first day the two units worked together, there was instant chemistry. They were just as capable and were the only other unit that could actually keep up with the famous unit.

Most of your squadron were former CIA and FBI members. Others were highly skilled Marine Special Operators and Green Berets. You were one of two Navy Seals. You and the other woman were the only women in the history of the United States ever to become Seals. She was the first and you the second a decade later, but also becoming the first black woman to join..

She trained you and your team. Then there was an accident. She left, joining the United Liberation Army, and that’s when she became a terrorist. Not only the country’s enemy, but yours, too.

But that didn’t matter now because the two people who were bound to be in the history books were now gone to never see themselves in the headlines. Now, the headlines haunted the 141. Even after two years, your name still roamed around, but it lessened more every day.

“But we have done all we can to get a lead on where the plane landed or any whereabouts of the members and their prisoner. There is no trace of anything, not even a boot. We have had surrounding areas searched, but they have come up with nothing. There is no evidence of them being held captive. We have extended this day for as long as we could. I’m sorry, but you all know this is protocol,” Laswell continued as she sent a glare at Ghost.

“So what? We just stop looking for them?” Gaz asked.

“We have exhausted all options. There’s nothing else we can do. I’m sorry,” Laswell said. She could see the hurt in the team’s eyes. Squadron Eight was no more. Now, all they could do was mourn and learn to move on with their lives. “With that being said, we have a mission for you all,” General Shepherd began.

“As you all know, there’s been a viral outbreak that’s been affecting the States. Right now, we consider the situation to be under control. There’s a facility on an island that is housing CDC members who are looking for a cure for the virus. So far, they believe that what they have now could help treat the symptoms. They need you all to deliver it back to the states to be distributed,” Shepherd announced.

“Why does the CDC need a Special Forces team to receive an anti-virus?” Price asked.

“Because you all are the only ones they trust to not use the anti-virus on yourselves before distributing it to the public. It is also a classified mission. No one else knows about this facility. They abandoned the island many years ago and restricted access to only cleared personnel. It’s a simple mission. Nothing too much to handle, as I know this is a hard day for you all. You should be back on base in no time. Wheels up at 1600 hours.”

Ghost stared out the window, watching them pass over the same seas and land that they had when you disappeared. There was still nothing there and if there was, it’d be long gone by now, at the bottom of the ocean or disintegrated into the sand or dirt.

He felt helpless, but he never lost hope that you were still out there, somewhere, dead or alive. One day, even if it was twenty years from now, they would find something that would give him some sort of closure.

The only regret he had from that day was that he didn’t push hard enough to let you all fly in the same plane. There was more than enough room, but Shepherd insisted that it would be best to have two planes in case anything happened to another plane, they’d still have a way out.

He still kept his tracker on him, never taking it off for any mission. Perhaps in the future, he would receive a notification indicating that you were nearby. Maybe you’d see that he was near and you both would find each other again. Maybe your tracker would ping and it’d lead him to your remains to hold and finally say his last goodbyes.

The Captain had some sympathy for Simon. It didn’t take much to see what you and the Lieutenant had no matter how much you two tried to hide it, but with the way the Lieutenant’s eyes softened when he saw you and his rush to urgency whenever you were in trouble, there was no denying what you two had.

Have.

You’re still alive. Right? You have to be because if you aren’t, that means that would be the end of Simon. Simon Riley may have perished when you disappeared, but there was just a sliver of him that held on. A fraction of him that hoped that you were holding onto that piece of him and waiting to restore it once you two were united because that’s what you normally did.

You restored him. Made him feel whole when he believed he was broken because, for some reason, the hardass attitude and mask didn’t scare you like it should have.

It could have been because you were a SEAL. You had to have seen your course of horror over your years, so a skull mask on a gargantuan of a man didn’t phase you.

You two met when you were a recruit, still in training to be a part of the Navy Seals. He had only trained you for a few weeks. You captured his attention from the second he saw you be the only one not complaining from the hours of running you all were doing. While every man at the training camp complained and groaned, begging for the rigorous training to stop, you kept going, only stopping to drink water.

You were the only one that kept going. That was the day he put in a good word for you. Those few weeks of training became hell for you for more reasons than the intense combatant training. You and the Lieutenant became close for circumstances you both wished were different.

When he had to leave, you both kept in contact with each other and soon enough, you were back together again, this time working side by side after you passed your qualifications tests. The light in your eyes was something he’d never forget seeing, and he looked forward to how often he’d be seeing you.

The helicopter ride was silent, only the sound of the propellers and the turbulence of the aircraft filling the depressive quietness. Fourteen hours was a long time. Long enough to recall every bit and piece of what happened the day you vanished.

TWO YEARS EARLIER

It was a day that no one ever saw coming. Squadron Eight was down a colonel, leaving you in charge. The men on your squad didn’t like it, but it was in your colonel’s wishes.

You knew the only place where your colonel, Charmaine Diyoza, would be hiding; with her father. It pained you to have to be the one to capture the woman that trained you and became one of your favorite people in the world. But she had committed unforgivable acts against the government and its citizens. Ones that made her the number one wanted terrorist in the world.

It made you wonder if maybe you would become like her. She trained you, so why wouldn’t you follow the same path? As much as the thoughts hurt to think about, you had a job to do and that was to capture Charmaine Diyoza.

Simon tried to talk you out of it. Said that you could stay back, but you refused. You told him that she had to see you. She had to see the look of betrayal on your face. You wanted to tell her how stupid she was. But you also wanted to tell her how much you still loved her.

“Both units will ride in separate planes, considering you both will be going separate ways once this mission is over,” General Shepherd informed the teams.

“That makes no sense. We can all ride in the same plane and we separate once we touch down on base again,” Ghost said.

“We need to make sure we have a second plane in case Diyoza tries to sabotage one of them. We all know how intelligent she is and she will do anything to escape her fate,” Shepherd responded.

So that was it. Both teams rode in separate planes and, as informed, the mission was capture or kill.

You had had dinners with Diyoza and her father. You all were practically family. He treated you like another daughter. Diyoza was the only other person who knew everything about you. Your home life. The events that took place when she went on leave during training, leaving Ghost to be your Commanding Officer. She was an additional sister. One that you could relate to and be yourself around.

And now, you were hunting her. Searching for her to take her prisoner. All that went through your mind is if you could go through with the plan. Would you be able to take Diyoza prisoner like you were supposed to, or would you let her go?

When you all touched down, it felt surreal. Maybe you could make a plea deal for her or you could talk her down from running again. The more she ran, the worse the situation got. You just wanted it to all stop.

You checked in on Price a few times to make sure he was doing alright. He and Diyoza may not have been together, but they were obviously each other’s person. Both in superior roles and always looking to each other for advice. There was no doubt that there was something else going on with them.

He insisted he was fine, but you had a feeling that wasn’t true. He was hurting just like you.

“You all know the drill. This is capture or kill,” Ghost announced.

Your teams surrounded the house. You caught a glimpse of Diyoza and called out to her. You hoped she would be the one that came out the front door, but instead, it was her father, standing with a shotgun pointed your fellow teammates.

“Don’t shoot!” you yelled out, talking to both your team and Diyoza’s father. “Mr. Diyoza! Put the shotgun down!” you shouted.

Your body was tense, like it had become frozen as your thought about the multiple outcomes of the situation. Everyone had their hand on a trigger and someone was bound to pull it, but you prayed that it wouldn’t come to such events.

“This is what it has come to? You on their side. Really?” her father shouted, obviously speaking to you.

“Charmaine Diyoza must be placed under arrest for the crimes of-,” you began, but there was a shot fired and the teams started shooting towards the front door, sending bullets through the house and shattering the front windows.

“Noooo!” you called out, rushing to the body of Mr. Diyoza. You knelt down and put as much pressure as you could on his wounds, but it was too late. When you put your head up, everyone had their guns aimed at the front door.

You turned your head and saw Diyoza standing at the entryway, tears in her eyes and a knife in her hand.

“Charmaine, listen to me. You just have to come with us, please. It didn’t have to be like this. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you pleaded with her.

“Put your guns down! Now!” you yelled at both teams.

They each looked at each other as you gave them pleading eyes. “Please,” your voice cracking and a salty, wet teardrop falling to your lips.

Everyone put their guns down and you stood up, covered in blood, as you slowly approached Diyoza.

“Let’s go, Char,” you said as you inched closer to her.

“You know where they’ll send me,” she told you.

“I know. But we can make a plea deal. Okay? You can plead insanity. It's going to be alright,” you told her.

“You don’t have power over that and you know that. We both know what I need to do,” Diyoza said as she took the knife up to her throat.

“Charmaine, no!” you yelled as you rushed towards her, but again, you were too late. Her body dropped to the ground and blood sprayed all over you. You rushed to her aid, putting as much pressure on Diyoza’s neck as you could, mixing the blood that was already on your hands with hers.

Price came rushing to your side, grabbing anything he could find in the house to keep pressure on the wound. He picked up Diyoza and your team ran to your plane, doing your best to keep her alive.

He placed her on the plane and tried to stay, but you screamed at him.

“Go away!” you yelled, pushing him out of the plane.

“Merci,” he said, his voice softening.

“No! No one needed to die! This didn’t have to happen! Go away!” you continued to yell.

So he left.

Your teams separated, but Price instructed Nikolai to meet you all at the hospital.

But you all never made it.

PRESENT DAY

No one on the team really believed you all were dead and if you were, they hoped it was a quick and painless death. How does a plane vanish into thin air? No one will ever know. But in case they did find you all trapped somewhere, they carried extra food, water, and other supplies on them.

It became handy on missions that lasted longer than they should have, despite the supplies being meant for your team. The extra weight in their rucksacks gave them hope and the day they had to let go of the extra weight would be a devastating day for them.

Simon put all of your favorites in his bag and labeled them to say ‘for Merci’ because without permission, you wouldn’t eat it. You usually never did anything without permission. The first time he let you in his room, you stood until he granted you a spot on the bed. Since then, he’s tried to break you of the obscure compulsions, but they still seemed to linger.

The island started to come into view, its greenery and assumed wildlife. It was beautiful. They understood why only cleared personnel could enter the island, because anyone else would tamper with its beauty. The landing of the helicopter even seemed forbidden, like they were committing a crime to force their aircraft into such a verdant and seemingly serene environment.

From a distance, you could see the CDC building perched on top of a hill some miles away.

“Why couldn’t we land on top of the building?” asked Soap.

“Not a designated landing center,” Price answered.

“Well, neither is this,” Gaz remarked, referring to the random land in the woods that Nikolai landed.

The leaves were still falling from the blow of the propellers, and they circled around the team, creating an eerie presence. The team used their GPS to lead them to the coordinates of the building. Nikolai insisted he would stay in the helicopter until the team came back, keeping track of everyone’s locations.

Winter time was beginning to hit. Simon noticed the breeze that got stronger as they traveled and the cutting of leaves as it brushed across his teammates’ faces, creating minor scratches across their skin. The leaves crunched beneath their feet with each step, making it impossible to keep quiet throughout their travels.

“At least another mile until we reach the facility,” Price announces, keeping his teams’ heads up and giving them hope, even though he knew they’d never give up. Everyone skulked about the woods, tracking anything that moved, though the number of animals lessened as they went into hibernation. The only movement was themselves, the branches that occasionally fell from the trees, and the birds that flocked in the air.

“Is it just me, or does it seem like the birds are watching us?” Gaz asked. It wasn’t the craziest statement he could make. The birds stood on the branches surrounding them, a few straying from the lurking flock.

“They’re crows,” Ghost began, “They do that.”

“Those flying away are mocking jays,” Price said.

“How d'ya know that?” Soap inquired.

Price whistled a tune, a melody from one of his favorite songs. They all stopped in their tracks as they heard the mocking jays repeat the short whistled song. They were enjoying the moment until the flocking of the crows interrupted it, circling the trees and creating a dark shadow above them, and making the men hold their guns up in retreat. But the murder never attacked. Instead, they all flew in the same direction, towards the facility, as if they were being controlled.

“The hell was that?” Ghost blurted out.

“Thought you were the crow connoisseur,” Soap replied.

No one laughed.

The crows’ behavior was absurd, but they brushed it off and headed to the facility that only seemed further the more time they took.

The men’s pace was fast because of their wide gaits. They were in a rush to get home, so they focused solely on getting to the facility. As they edged closer to what was supposed to be a working building, a gust of a putrid stench emerged.

“Fuckin’ hell. Something must’ve died out here,” Ghost commented.

“More like someone,” Gaz said, kicking a pile of decayed flesh and exposed human ribs. They tried to keep their minds off the smell, but it seemed to get stronger the closer they got to the building.

“What do you think could have done that?” Soap wondered.

The smell of rotting flesh that filled their nostrils deeply disturbed them as they approached the building, giving them the sensation that death surrounded them. Before they went into the building, the murder of crows they had seen earlier, massed together over piles of dead bodies and rotting corpses.

Soap questioned, "I thought this mission was supposed to involve retrieving an anti-virus from a CDC facility."

“It is,” Ghost responded.

Soap’s voice became more gruff as he quizzed, “So then, why are we standing in front of an abandoned building on top of a mass grave?”

And there we have it folks. I have finally begun a new story and need to finish the chapter for my other story.

[l0relaii]

mornibg :( im so dead this week

thinking about being in the crush stage with Chris and maybe josh and ashley team up to continuously put you two in unusually close proximity until you both crack and one of you (probs you) finally shoves him onto the floor when they trap you in a room together not expecting yalls to fuck and hearing it being like

OH GOD WERE LEAVING

i'm sorry to hear that lovely, hope you'll feel better soon :(

knowing josh tried to set up ashley and chris in the game he would definitely do that with you and chris

maybe not with the saw trap and gun thing, but he would still try to get y'all together 🌝

chris is afraid of rejection even if he knows you like him too so that's why he wouldn't confess

and that gets on josh's nerves

"come on cochise, why the fuck won't you just tell her?"

"jeez dude, i will, okay? calm down"

"oh and when are you planning on doing that?

"i don't know, when the time is right?"

"yeah well in that case don't complain if mike gets to bang her before you because you're too much of a pussy to do anything"

"hey cut it out man, that's not funny"

chris knows he's joking and trying to rile him up, but what if he's right?

maybe you will find someone else, maybe he should do something before it's too late, but he doesn't know what

it's the same with you and ash

"i'm getting tired of listening to you talking about chris, jeez why don't you just get together already?"

"what if he doesn't like me?"

"oh come on everyone knows he has the biggest crush on you"

so they come up with a plan to get you together.

they always send you to do little tasks together or they group call you and stay silent to get you and chris to talk because they know you wouldn't just call each other

and they always leave the room to give you two space to talk, which you don't really do either way

"hey ash? wanna go out on the balcony for a bit? i wanna take a smoke break"

"oh yeah sure"

"i'll come too-"

exactly when you wanna lift yourself from the couch she pushes you back down into chris's side

"ohh no, please i want you to tell me what happens in the movie while we're gone"

"i can do that-"

but they already left on the balcony watching you intently through the window

"josh just look at them, they're sitting there doing nothing"

"i think we need to get them in my bedroom"

"what makes you believe they'll talk there?"

"the fact that we'll lock 'em up and keep them there until they confess"

so that's exactly what they do. while you're in the bathroom josh asks chris to bring him his charger from his room and when you come back he asks you the same thing

you didn't even get to question where chris was, that's why you're confused when you see him in josh's bedroom

"looking for the charger?"

"uhh yeah, what are you doing here?"

"the same thing"

you hear the door close behind you and a click. the motherfuckers locked you in with chris.

"oh come on guys, this is not funny"

"yeah, let us out, what the fuck are you doing?"

"we're sick and tired of this bullshit that you've got going on"

"and we won't unlock this door unless you at least kiss"

"jeez josh, come on, don't be a dick"

"ash, for god's sake, open the door"

"what was that? a confession? i don't think so"

you lean back on the door sliding down to the floor with a long sigh

without even realizing chris sits down beside you on the floor

"they're right, fuck it- chris i know you like me, and i like you too, why do we keep this shit up?"

"heard that josh?? come on now open the door"

"wait chris, i'm serious"

"..you are?"

"yes."

everything that happens next is kind of a blur. you remember chris grabbing your jaw and tilting your head to the side to kiss you

you remember straddling him and grinding down in his lap while he leaned against the door

you remember the faint sound of ashley's giggles on the other side of the door and two sets of footsteps echoing in the hallway

you remember chris lifting you up and carrying you to the bed where you made out all night long

sometime in the night you heard the door unlock and you saw a condom slip from under it

those sneaky fuckers..

[sequinsmile-x]

You and Me, Forevermore

Three consecutive New Years Eve's that Emily and Aaron spend together.

-x-

Hi besties!

This is very soft, sweet, largely pointless and just a way of me saying thank you for all the love and support from you all this year. This fandom may be small, but it's lovely and wonderful and I adore every single one of you. This is my favourite corner of the internet <3

Writing is my favourite thing to do in the world, and anytime anyone tells me a fic of mine has made them smile, or cry or it's simply provided a distraction in this increasingly horrid world we live in, it makes my day.

Thank you for being here, and I'll continue to be here writing about our favourite idiots for years to come.

For the last time in 2024, please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: some alcohol consumption, largely just them being soft idiots in love

Words: 4.5k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily had never been a fan of New Year's parties. 

Of all the parties she’d grown up going to do they had been her least favourite. Long nights where she’d been nothing but an ornament her mother put on display so her friends could tell Emily how much she’d grown in a year, how much she looked like her mother as they asked questions they didn’t care about the answer to just to pass the time. 

She loved the holidays, she always had, but New Year's itself had always felt like an anticlimax. All the promises of being a better person, of making better choices, were gone before January was over. It only ever seemed to feed into the artificial life she’d grown up in where no one said what they actually thought, and no one spoke about anything that felt genuinely important. 

This year felt different. 

She smiles as she looks around Dave’s house, at the team scattered amongst his other friends and acquaintances, and she thinks this might be the first New Year’s party she’d truly enjoy. 

“Princess,” Derek says, getting her attention as he approaches her and Penelope, his smile wide and posture relaxed, “Where’s your guy? I thought you two were glued at the hip these days.” 

She rolls her eyes but can’t fight her smile, and she looks over her shoulder and smiles as her eyes catch Aaron’s where he’s standing at the bar, and she gives him a small wave, “He’s getting me a drink.” 

Penelope squeals, like she always did when she encountered Emily and Aaron’s relationship outside of work, and she quickly clears her throat, “Sorry, I’m still not used to how cute you two are.” 

“Please don’t call Hotch cute,” Derek replies, faking a shudder as he sips his beer and winks at Emily, “I can’t picture him that way.” 

If Derek had made that comment even a few months ago, Emily would have felt her shackles rise. Out of everyone, he’d been the one to take the news of her and Aaron’s relationship the hardest. It took him several weeks to get used to the idea, for his snide comments to slowly give way, and it had driven her crazy. She’d talked to him about it more than once, and had come away from that conversation upset each time. She’d had to tell Aaron to not get involved, sure that the two men butting heads would only make matters worse, and she knew it had been hard for him to see her upset by one of her closest friends not accepting a relationship that made her happier than she had ever been. 

She still didn’t know what had truly got through to Derek. If he finally saw that both she and Aaron deserved this after everything they’d been through with Ian and Foyet respectively, if he saw that she was a different person when she came back from Paris and Aaron helped her find herself again, or if he’d taken the time to watch them together when they thought no one was looking. If he’d seen the way they cared for each other and understood each other. 

Or if, what Emily thought was the most likely, Penelope had finally called him out on his bullshit and told him to get himself together. 

“But they are cute,” Penelope says, turning to look at Emily, “Right?”

She chuckles and shrugs, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she tries to answer in a way she knows won’t embarrass her boyfriend. Because they were cute. Sickeningly in love with each other in a way that would make her turn her nose up if she read about it in a book or saw it in a movie, and the worst part was she loved it. She loved him and knew she always would. 

“Here you go, sweetheart.” 

She smiles and turns as Aaron’s hand skims her lower back and lands on her hip. He hands her a glass of champagne and she kisses him, “Thanks, honey.” 

“Oh god,” Derek says, scrunching his nose up in mock disgust, “I think I preferred it when you were pretending you weren’t in love with each other.” 

“I didn’t,” Penelope quips, her smile wide as she watches them, “I think it’s sweet.” 

Emily feels Aaron tense next to her, any progress that he’d made on relaxing around their friends, with the help of alcohol and her insistence that everything was fine, undone in a matter of seconds. She makes a point of leaning further into him, her arm looping around his waist as she kisses his jaw and then his cheek, smiling against his skin when it’s enough to relax him a little. She pulls back and looks at their friends, her eyebrow raised in a mix of amusement and defiance at the contrasting looks on their faces.

“Derek, it’s New Year's Eve, this is a party,” she holds up her glass of champagne, “This is my…” 

“Fourth,” Aaron offers as she trails off, and she smiles up at him again, the soft smile she gets in return mixed in with the alcohol enough for her to briefly forget the point she was trying to make.

“Right, thanks honey,” she looks back at Derek and Penelope again, “This is my fourth drink. I’m going to get a little drunk and a little handsy with my boyfriend, okay?” She can’t deny that she doesn’t get a kick out of how Aaron briefly tightens his hold on her or how Derek scrunches his nose up, “If you don’t like that, I think thats your problem.” 

“Chill out, princess, I was only joking.” 

She sticks her tongue out at him and smiles, letting him know that she is too, mostly. Then she turns in Aaron’s embrace and smiles at him, cupping his cheek and pulling him in for a kiss. It was almost midnight, almost the start of a year she was looking forward to for once, and she wanted some time alone with the man she loves. 

“Let’s go find the guy with the tray of those mini desserts,” she says, grateful when he immediately nods, his smile soft and loving as he reaches for her hand and links their fingers together. 

He looks at Derek and Penelope, “Happy New Year.” 

“Happy New Year, sir. Hotch.” Penelope replies, her smile sparkling with mischief as she looks at Emily directly “Don’t desecrate Dave’s home office. Again.” 

Emily widens her eyes and ignores Aaron’s gaze burning into her side, “Pen. What happened to what is said on girl's night, stays on girl’s night?” 

Penelope has the decency to look embarrassed and she holds her glass higher, “Sorry, it’s the champagne, it’s like truth serum.” 

“Come on, sweetheart,” Aaron says, his hand on Emily’s hip as he leads her away from their friends, his smile and the spark in his eyes letting her know he isn’t mad at her, “Let’s go before any more details about our sex life come out.” 

She nods and lets him lead her away, leaning into his side as they weave through the pockets of people all scattered around Dave’s house, “Sorry, baby,” she says, stamping a kiss against his jacket, “Pen and her big mouth.” 

He hums, his eyes soft and loving as he comes to a stop and wraps his arms around her, “Do I even want to know how our sex life came up in conversation?” 

“You know what she’s like, she wants to know everything,” she replies, hooking an arm around the back of his neck, “And she knows how to get me to talk,” she says, pressing her lips together when he simply raises an eyebrow at her, “She tried to imply that you’re…,” she looks around them and makes sure no one can overhear them, her cheeks warm with the alcohol thrumming under her skin and embarrassment that Penelope had played her so well, “Vanilla in the bedroom.” 

He laughs, loud and bright and beautiful, and he shakes his head lovingly at her before he kisses her, “Sweetheart, it’s sweet that you want to defend me, but I think I can live with Garcia thinking I’m boring in bed.” 

Her response is cut off as someone yells that the ball in Times Square is dropping, and that the countdown has begun. She smiles as Aaron tugs at her hand and pulls her into the empty hallway, the sound of the crowd counting down from ten following them. She leans against the wall and encourages him closer, her hand on his shoulder as his nose knocks against hers, something that draws a sound she refuses to call a giggle out of her as the countdown continues. 

“Three, two, one. Happy New Year!”

She kisses him, sighing into it as she tastes champagne and her future on his tongue, and she smiles when they break apart, her forehead resting against his as his breath skips across her face. 

“Happy New Year, sweetheart.” 

She cups the back of his neck and tugs him in for another kiss, her reply lost against his lips, “Happy New Year, honey.” 

___

She’s making a cup of tea when the doorbell rings. She walks out of the kitchen and calls up the stairs, smiling when she already hears a door being thrown open. “Jack, that will be your Aunt Jess. Say goodbye to your dad and then come down here.” 

“Coming, Emily!” 

When she answers the door Jess pulls her into a hug, “Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year,” she replies, stepping back to let Jess into the house, “Jack is on his way.” 

“How’s the patient?” Jess asks, smiling when Emily groans and rolls her eyes. 

“Hard work, as you’d expect,” Emily replies, shaking her head as she thinks of Aaron, “He was insistent that we go to our friend’s New Year party until about 30 minutes ago when he almost passed out getting out of bed.” 

Aaron had woken up not feeling well a couple of days ago. At first, he’d tried to play it off, say it was just a cold, but it quickly became clear it was the flu. Somehow, they’d managed to make sure Jack hadn’t caught it so he was still able to go and spend New Year’s with Jess and Roy like he always did. Emily was just grateful that the flu had waited until after Christmas to take down her giant, cuddly, whiny man, because it meant that they’d been able to enjoy the day in their new home. They’d moved in back in November, a busy time of year anyway in amongst Aaron’s birthday and Thanksgiving, and she loved it. It was a home, the first one she’d ever truly had, and she knew that had nothing to do with the house that they knew was perfect for them the moment they first saw it. 

“Good luck to you then,” Jessica replies, and Jack runs over, sliding in his socks on the hardwood floor towards them. 

“Hi, Aunt Jess!” He says excitedly, handing his bag to her as he slips on his shoes, “Is Grandpa excited? I want to tell him all about Christmas and what Dad and Emily got me.”

Jess nods and exchanges a look over the top of his head with Emily. Roy’s feelings about Aaron moving on, about him starting a new life when Haley couldn’t, were well known. He wasn’t particularly polite to Emily whenever he spent time with them as a family, something that she knew embarrassed Jess to no end. 

“He’s so excited to see you, buddy,” she replies diplomatically, “Now, say goodbye to Emily.” 

Jack nods and hugs Emily, his arms tight around her as she leans down to hug him back. When he pulls back to look at her, the excitement he’d had moments ago is gone, replaced with concern that makes her ache. 

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” She asks, pushing his hair from his forehead, smiling when it flops right back down. 

“Is Daddy going to be okay?” He asks, his gaze drifting to the stairs, “He looked sick and I don’t have to go.” 

She smiles at him, his endless empathy and kindness, despite everything he’d already been through, one of the many, many things she loved about him, “I’ll look after him, I promise,” she says, kissing his cheek, “You know he wants you to go have fun.” 

Jack nods, still looking unsure, “And you’ll be okay?” 

“I’ll be okay,” she replies, hugging him again, exchanging a smile with Jess over his shoulder when she looks up at her, “I promise.” 

“Okay,” he replies, “I love you, Emmy.” 

She squeezes him tightly for a moment, overwhelmed by a type of love that she never thought she’d get to feel before she pulls back to look at him, “I love you too, Jack.” 

He hugs her one more time before he leaves, and she and Jess exchange one too as they discuss when she’ll bring Jack back home the following day. As soon as she closes the door she locks it behind them and blows out a slow breath. Her phone beeps, letting her know it is time for Aaron to have more meds, and she goes to the kitchen to get them and finish making his cup of tea. 

When she walks into their bedroom her heart feels like it’s in a vice when she sees him. He’s curled around her pillow, the sheets twisted around his legs, and he looks sick. He’s pale and miserable and she knows she’d do anything to make him feel better. 

“Here you go honey,” she says, sitting on the edge of the bed and turning on the lamp on his nightstand, wincing when it makes him groan, “Sorry, baby. I brought you some more meds. They’ll make you feel better.” 

He groans again as he sits up and takes the glass of water she offers him and the meds. He takes the medication without question - a true sign of how awful he must be feeling, “You really should go to Dave’s party you know,” he says, sniffing in a futile attempt to clear his nose, “It will be more fun than sitting here with me on my death bed.” 

She chuckles and takes the glass from him before she settles next to him in bed, sitting up against the headboard whilst he lays back down, “That really would earn me the title of fiancée of the year if I left you here by yourself on New Year’s Eve.” 

He laughs, or tries to, the sound dying in his sore throat as he shifts closer to her, his head on her stomach and his arm over her hips as he snuggles against her. He’d always been tactile with her, had always been all over her at any given opportunity, but when he was sick it was another level. It was something he’d passed on to his son, who also insisted on sleeping pressed up against her when he was sick, and she loved it. Loved being the source of their comfort, and she couldn’t help but picture a world where a kid who was half her and half Aaron did the same. They’d started trying for a baby recently, hope pressed into every corner of their home, and the thought of it made her giddy. 

“Well, at least it’s New Year’s Eve,” he says, his skin warm even through the barrier of her t-shirt, “The criteria resets tomorrow.”

She smiles and runs her fingers through his hair, “I’m not going anywhere,” she says, smiling when he looks up at her, “I always want to spend New Year with you.” 

“I always want to spend New Year with you too.” 

He slips in between sleep and being awake for hours whilst pressed up against her side. She only gets out of bed to make dinner for them, the empty places now on her nightstand.  She turns on the TV and keeps the volume low, making sure she doesn’t disturb him whilst he rests. She eventually switches the channel to watch the news at Times Square, smiling at the crowds of people huddled together in the freezing cold to watch the ball drop in person. 

“What time is it?” 

She smiles down at him and pushes his hair away from his forehead, “Almost midnight.” 

He nods and sits up, blinking repeatedly to clear his head before he stands up, “Okay.”

“Honey,” she says, raising her eyebrow at him, “What are you doing?” 

“Going to brush my teeth,” he mutters, leaning against the wall as he walks to the ensuite. She rolls her eyes and gets out of bed to follow him. 

“Why?” 

“So I can kiss you at midnight,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “My breath sucks.”

She hums and crosses her arms over her chest, pressing her lips together as she tries to suppress a smile, “Yeah,” she says, looking him up and down, the palour of his skin almost worse in the light of the bathroom, “That’s the problem with kissing right now.” 

He pauses, furrowing his brow as he stops squeezing toothpaste onto his toothbrush as if he’d just remembered he was sick.

“Oh, yeah, sorry sweetheart-” He says, and she leans in and kisses him, stamping her lips against his, smiling when he frowns in confusion when she pulls back. “You’ll get sick.” 

“Worth it,” she presses her thumb against his lower lip, “But you’re right, you should brush your teeth, your breath sucks.” 

He shakes his head at her lovingly and she winks at him and walks back out to their bedroom. She settles back into bed and pulls the covers over her lap, smiling as she takes the chance to look at her engagement ring. She was going to marry him next year, and hopefully expand their family too. The excitement of it all makes her skin tingle, and as Aaron slips back into bed next to her, it feels infinitely better than any evening drinking expensive champagne ever could have. 

They watch the ball drop on the TV and share a kiss at midnight, his skin warm against hers as he settles against her afterwards. 

“Happy New Year, Em.”

She kisses the top of his head, smiling against his hairline as she thinks of all they have to come, “Happy New Year, Aaron.” 

___

She hums a tune she can’t name as she paces back and forth in her bedroom, one hand under the 4-month-old against her chest, and one rubbing soothing circles on his back. Issac gristles against her, grumbling as he rubs his face against her chest. She kisses the top of his head and sighs, suppressing a yawn as she breathes in his sweet scent. 

“You’ll feel so much better if you get some sleep, sweet boy,” she says, falling to suppress her yawn this time as she carries on, “We all need some sleep.” 

Isaac hadn’t been a great sleeper from the start, but in the last couple of weeks, he’d barely slept for more than one hour at a time. She knew it was normal, she knew that he’d grow out of it, but it was hard. She was more exhausted than she’d ever been in her life but she was also the happiest she’d ever been. It was overwhelming sometimes and would spill out of her in the form of what felt like constant tears on her cheeks because somehow this was her life now. She had a husband and two little boys she loved more than she ever thought possible, and it was beautifully, achingly normal. 

It was strange to think how much had changed in the space of a year. Last New Year’s Eve, when Aaron had been sick and she’d stayed home to look after him, this was exactly where she hoped she’d be now. In early January, when she suddenly found herself feeling awful she convinced herself that she’d caught the flu from Aaron. It took almost a week before she let herself even consider that it might be something else, before she dared to take a pregnancy test. She still had it in a drawer in the bathroom, the digital screen that once displayed the word pregnant now faded, because she couldn’t bring herself to throw it away. 

She looks up as the bedroom door opens and she smiles at Aaron as he walks in and closes the door behind him, “Jack’s settled in his bed.”

“He’ll be so mad in the morning,” she says, smiling softly as she continues to pace the room, “He was hoping he’d make it to midnight this year.” 

Jack surprised them when he asked to stay home this New Year instead of going to his grandfather’s like he usually did. He explained that he wanted to spend it with them and Issac, and he’d been insistent that he’d stay awake until midnight. He’d fallen asleep in their bed just a few minutes ago and Aaron had taken him back to his room so he’d get a better night’s sleep than he would in the same room as his little brother who woke up several times a night. 

“I know,” Aaron says, walking over to them, “How is the littlest Hotchner doing?”

“He might make it to midnight,” she replies dryly, “I think Zaccy thinks sleep is for the weak,” she says, tilting her head to look at her still wide-awake son, “Huh, kiddo?” 

“Want me to try?” 

She nods and kisses the top of Issac’s head as she passes him over, “Yes please, my arms are starting to ache.” 

“He just loves his mommy so much that he wants to be in your arms all the time.” 

“I think it might be because I smell of milk,” she hums and sits on the bed, her back against the headrest as she rubs her eyes, “But that’s a sweet thought.” 

Aaron smiles at her as he sways side to side, Issac secure against his chest, “You know as well as I do that you are the centre of the world for every Hotchner who lives in this house.” 

She feels her cheeks go warm, still not used to his love and affection even after all this time, and she is distracted by her phone as it vibrates on her nightstand. She smiles as she picks it up, a selfie of the team at Dave’s annual New Year’s Eve party starting up at her, their smiles and slightly dazed eyes letting her know they were all several drinks in. 

“Dave sent a picture of the team,” she says, turning her phone to show him, “With the caption ‘What will be your excuse to miss next year’s party?’” 

Aaron laughs and looks down to see Issac is now sleeping, “He’s asleep.” 

Emily huffs out a breath and watches as he places the baby in the bassinet on her side of the bed and stamps a kiss against his forehead. 

“I’d be pissed you got him off so quickly,” she says, wrapping her arms around one of Aaron’s the moment he’s in bed, “But I am far too tired to care about that right now.” 

He kisses the top of her head and then rests his cheek there, yawning himself as they settle against each other. He looks at the clock on her nightstand and hums, “Only one hour until the new year. I wonder what it will bring us” 

She turns her head to kiss him, “Hopefully more sleep,” she quips, smiling against his lips, “But I’d be happy with more of what we’ve already got.” 

“Me too.” 

She lets herself enjoy the silence that was so rare in their home these days, and she settles into his warmth. She doesn’t remember falling asleep, she isn’t even aware she has until she feels small hands on her face and shoulder. 

“Mom,” Jack whispers, his eyes wide as she opens hers to meet them, “Mom, we all fell asleep.” 

“We fell asleep?” She groans as she blinks a few times and she looks over at the clock to see it is now 12.30 am, “We fell asleep.” She looks over at Issac, panic racing through her until she sees he’s still fast asleep, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. She looks at Aaron and realises they are both still sitting up, that they’d slumped against each other in bed with the light still on and fallen asleep without realising. She looks at Jack and smiles at him, opening her arms up to him and encouraging him in for a hug. He crawls into her arms and she rearranges the covers around them both “I don’t think I’ve fallen asleep before midnight on New Year’s since I was your age, sweet boy.”

“I woke up in my bedroom but I don’t remember going to bed,” he says, resting his head on her shoulder. 

“Dad took you to bed,” she replies, smiling as she looks at her still sleeping husband.

“Should we wake him up?” 

She’s about to say no, to try and figure out how she can get them all lying down without waking him up, but then Issac cries, loud and sharp in the otherwise quiet room and Aaron shocks awake. 

“I’ll get him,” he mutters, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands as he stands up. She watches with amusement as he walks a few paces and then realises she’s sitting up and Jack is with them too, “What time is it?” 

“It’s the new year Dad!” Jack exclaims, and Emily smiles at him, her nails scratching lightly at his scalp. “Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year, buddy!” 

Emily turns to look at Aaron, a familiar swooping in her gut as she watches him lift Issac into his arms. She’d always known he was an amazing father, but watching him with their infant son had taken it to a new level. She wanted more kids with him, a thought that wasn’t even dulled by the bone deep exhaustion of having a baby right now, and part of her wondered if, by the end of the year, she’d once again be missing the opportunity to be drunk at Dave’s party. 

“We fell asleep.” She says simply, smiling as he hums in response, Issac against his chest as he starts to settle down, clearly just wanting to be part of the fun.

“I’m not surprised. We’ve barely slept in weeks,” he smiles at Emily and leans in to kiss her, his lips quickly stamped against hers, “Happy New Year by the way.” 

She kisses him back, “Happy New Year,” she then smiles at Jack and kisses the top of his head,  “You too, Jack,” she reaches out and runs her knuckles down Issac’s cheek, “You too, sweet boy.” 

“Happy New Year, Mom and Dad,” Jack beams at her before he leans in and kisses Issac’s cheek, “Happy New Year, Zaccy.” 

Issac blows a spit bubble and it makes Jack giggle, and Emily wipes Issac’s mouth with the sleep of her shirt. 

“I think that’s his way of saying it back, kiddo.” 

Aaron smiles at his eldest, “What do you want to happen this year, Jack?” 

He furrows his brow as he thinks about it for a second before a delighted smile spreads across his face, “I’d like a baby sister!” 

[ultfreakme]

Honestly Geto and Gojo having the same death anniversary which happens to be the most romantic day in Japan, with a character in-story stating how romantic it is should be enough evidence to convince anybody that SatoSugu are supposed to be a romance.

On top of that, we hear that JJK0 is about Yuuta and Rika's love but it's also about Geto and Gojo's relationship.

Then Gege Akutami specifically assigning break-up songs to Geto and Gojo.

AND THEN; they each get canon songs made in each other's POV speaking about their feelings specifically for one another. Where Gojo's song contains lyrics like "Even though I’ve come to know the scent of you being different from mine" and "Any prayer, any word Could bring us closer, but they couldn’t reach you Just like a silent love, In the summery colors along my cheeks". And Geto's song has lyrics like "Even trivial conversations are fine. Show me your blushing face once more" and "It exists only here. I want to touch you" and "Though I understand a wounded heart. Why do I end up hurting and leaving the same scars?"

The animation team going out of their way to give these two more soft moments hanging, creating visual parallels through the Betta Fishes, the flowers, the entire OP for Hideen Inventory but especially the part where we are seeing Gojo's vision being filled with Geto looking amazing while he rides Geto's rainbow dragon.

I saw someone say we're just projecting western views of romance onto satosugu but like, LOOK AT ALL THIS. I cannot stress enough the insanity of their death dates. It's like two people dying one after the other on Valentine's Day. This is some Romeo & Juliet bullshit. JJK in general has next to no romance, no one's pining after each other, the few times there are implications, it's very short. The most obvious one is Mechamaru and Miwa. Now imagine if Mechamaru and Miwa were the ones who got Ao No Sumika and Akari. Imagine they got 5 episodes dedicated to their story and Mechamaru dies on December 24th and Miwa's the one forced to put him out of his misery for betraying them to Mahito and Kenjaku.

Okay do you fucking see how ridiculous denying SatoSugu is? If Mechamaru and Miwa got all that even WITHOUT saying an 'I love you' no one would question their romance.

I know people keep making fun of shonen animes for having a stronger 'romance' between the two guy leads than with any other love interest but I've seen that stuff and even there it isn't nearly as deliberately romantic as SatoSugu. I can tell that Kuroko & Kagami, Gon & Killua or Levi & Erwin are supposed to be friends, the shipping thing is based on the established friendship stuff but SatoSugu are so blatant it's hard to think of another explanation.

I saw a point about how people are projecting western perspectives of romance on platonic friendship expression in a different culture, which I do get, I think it's a valid point. Idk much about how people express friendship in Japan but I have heard there's a lot more skinship and openness as compared to western cultures.

But w/ SatoSugu there isn't anything that can be read as purely platonic, there's always an ambiguity or it's directly romantic.

[mistyresolve]

Not sure if you’re doing requests still.

If want to ignore this, feel free.

How I was wondering how would Ghost and Gaz react if their s/o had sweet goofy Labrador that fellow them around and flop onto their laps, whenever they sat down?

Something super cute?

Word Count - 1.7k

Tags/Warnings - Fluff, puppiess

A/N - I've recently been so unbelievably obsessed with livestock guardian dog....I'm well aware that a lab is not the right breed but still

Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form 

Ghost 

You had come to visit the base on your day off. And just like every other time you did so, you brought your dog, Archie, with you. She was a 2-year-old energetic, long-haired golden lab, who had yet to grow out of her puppy faze. Always tripping over her still-too-big feet and chewing on anything and everything.

Archie was well known around the base, and the boys adored her. She got all the attention a dog could want. And more.

Archie also had an unpredictable favourite, whom she always ran to first, and everyone for when he appeared. Including you. You always had a hard time getting her back in the car when it was time to leave when Ghost was around. On more than one occasion you have had to ask him to go hide somewhere so she would listen to you.

It was so bizarre because aside from the occasional pat on the side, he basically ignored her. Ghost never seemed to mind though. He never once complained about being “inconvenienced” or annoyed by Archie following him around. Frankly, you had your suspicions that he enjoyed the dog's company. 

As soon as you let Archie out of the back seat she booked it for the hanger, leaving you in her dust. You didn’t feel the need to recall her and already knew the rest of the team would be there—sitting around one of the Humvees, pretending to be working on it. The oversized garage doors were pushed open, and when she disappeared through them and into the building you could hear the guys greeting her.

“Hello, pretty girl!” you didn’t need to see him to know it was MacTavish and him putting on the iconic puppy voice, “Who’s a good girl?” he said, knowing damn well the moment Ghost showed up Archie would forget he ever existed. 

Then Price’s voice, “Archie,” followed by playful barking. They were definitely riling her up, “Where’s your mom, huh?” 

Before you rounded the corner you knew she was running in a circle, greeting each and every one of them, expecting a pat and scratch. When she saw you enter after her, she barked once in acknowledgment, before continuing her rounds. 

You took a seat in the circle, jumping into the conversation they were having before they arrived. Much to your surprise, they were significantly dirty; so they were actually working on the Humvee before this. 

Archie disappeared further into the hanger, doing a quick perimeter check. Obviously, she was looking for a certain someone. When she came back, too soon, it meant that Ghost wasn’t around, so she was making do with her second favourite, Soap. She was on her back, exposing her belly for rubs. To which Soap obliged, as it was his end goal to overthrow Ghost. 

You looked around, “Where is Ghost?” It was strange that he wasn’t here. It was near the end of the day on a Friday. Usually, they all met up for the last few hours to bullshit before heading out for drinks. 

At the sound of his name, Archie perked up, looking to you for confirmation. When she realized he still wasn’t here she turned her attention back to Soap. Whom frowned at you, “You’re not supposed to bring him up.”

“He and Gaz took twenty-two out for a test drive,” Price checked his watch and then rocked back in his seat with a frown, “Should have been back by now though.”

22 was the other Humvee that was normally parked in the hangar, a “22” stencilled onto the side of the hood. 22 was a “Project of Passion”, given to the 141 as a joke a year ago. The damn thing didn’t start when we first got it. But the guys saw it as an offence and vowed to get it back on the road. 

His ears must have been burning because shortly after you asked, you heard the rumble of the vehicle approaching. It pulled into the open space before someone killed the engine, and the doors slammed shut.

“Fucking piece of shit.” 

That was definitely Ghost. 

Archie sprung up from her spot at Soap's feet, meeting up with Ghost as he emerged around the back of the Humvee. He was using a rag to wipe something off his hands angrily when his entire demeanour changed,  “Hey, Archie-girl,” he dropped to one knee, getting down to her level to give her a good scratch behind the ear. She was wagging her tail so hard that her entire body swayed with it. Her mouth was open as she panted in excitement. 

Soap leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, sulking. 

Ghost stood back up. That would be all the attention he would give Archie and it was like he gave her the moon, “Engine nearly blew up,” at some point, he had taken off his jacket, and was wearing just a green t-shirt. His arms were stained black from car oil. He walked back to 22 and this time everyone followed after him, curious as to what the issue was. 

The jacket hanging over the open window was all the evidence you needed to know why he had taken it off. The black stains on his arms mirrored those on his jacket. Only way worse. 

Both you and Soap had to avoid eye contact with each other or you’d probably laugh right in Ghost’s face. 

The hood was propped up already and Gaz was bracing his weight on it as he leaned forward, looking exasperated. 

You jumped up onto the work table to watch them contemplate what to do next. Soap asked a question and both Ghost, and Gaz groaned. Ghost invited Soap to take a look underneath the vehicle, the two of them sliding beneath it so only their bottom halves were visible. 

Archie joined them. 

Immediately. And enthusiastically.

She crouched low and inched herself until she was right next to Ghost. She didn’t interrupt him as he explained what he was thinking was wrong to Soap. When they came back out Archie again followed them. 

After an hour of back and forth, they decided to give it up for the day. Sitting back around in a circle, Archie had squeezed herself between Ghost’s feet and the chair, her head resting on his shoe. She was alert and watching everyone around her, but she was calm. 

You silently noticed how Ghost kept his foot extra still, careful not to disturb the pup. 

Admittedly, the sight of him being so attentive to her presence did something to you. There was a little bit of history between you and Ghost, but both of you agreed that getting attached to each other in this line of work could be dangerous. Torturous, even. Although you no longer actively seek him out, you still have feelings for him. 

Archie must have sensed all that and made a dog-equivalent bond with him. 

You shared that same peace and excitement when around him.  

Gaz

It was the next day and Gaz was given the day off. Why? Because he requested it? Why? Because it was Yogi’s birthday. 

Gaz had taken Yogi to get a cut and groom, a pup cup, and then let him run wild in the pet store. When they came home at the end of the day, Yogi was wearing a little blue bandana from the groomers and Gaz was carrying a bag full of toys and chewies.

“Oh my goodness,” you exclaimed upon seeing the Yogi, crouching to his level to get a better look at him, “Aren’t you the most handsome boy.”

When it was time for dinner, Gaz had given Yogi his own “plate”. He went so far as to garnish it with a milk bone.  

Now it was 9 p.m. and you and Gaz sat on either side of the couch. His legs propped up on the ottoman, his ankles crossed. An arm draped over the back of the sofa, his other hand resting atop your dog, mindlessly petting him. You played with the end of his tail. If only because that was all you could reach without having to splay across the sofa. 

You were halfway through your movie when you had an epiphany.  

“He’s hardly my dog anymore,” you frown, waving a hand at the scene in front of you. 

Gaz lazily turned his head over to you, “Hmm?”, Then he followed your gaze to the dog on his lap, “Oh. He hasn’t been your dog for a while,” he said matter-of-factly and gave your senior dog a pat on the shoulder to add emphasis. 

Yogi’s tail begins to wag, beating you in the leg with it. It was like adding salt to a wound. You raised Yogi from when he was 8 weeks old. He was now 10 and his brown fur had long since turned grey around his face. 

He’s known Gaz for all of 3 years.

They must have made a little boy pact at some point during those three years because there was no clear day or moment Yogi stole his heart back from you and gave it to Gaz…

“Don’t say that,” you glared over at him, “he’s my baby.” 

Gaz smiled, “Nah. He’s a big boy,” he moved to scratch under his jaw, right where he liked it most, “Yogi’s a man. A man-dog.” 

…That or Gaz was ploying him with threats when you weren’t around. 

Down the hall, the washing machine beeped. Since it was Wednesday, it was Gaz’s turn to do laundry. Most of it being his clothes and uniforms. He tapped on Yogi, signalling for him to get up. Yogi was slow moving but he jumped from the couch, stretching out with a yawn. 

You paused the movie so Gaz wouldn’t miss any while he was switching laundry, “Yogi…” you said in the saddest, most pathetic voice you could muster when the old dog started after your boyfriend; all too willing to abandon you on the couch. He looked back at you and began to make his way back to you. Without a doubt, it was out of obligation and not want. 

“Yogi,” his name was echoed down the hall. 

That was it took and the dog carried on down the hall. 

“You Judas,” you mumbled to him, knowing he was half deaf. 

And a dog.

Masterlist

A/N - Sorry Gaz's part is so short...I've never really written the guy before :/

Taglist - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎  @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes ❤︎ @adelaidai ❤︎ @ddioriez ❤︎ @johfaam0 

[irithylldancer]

datv end

well, the game is over and yeah, just mostly disappointing. i'm glad there is a good chunk of people who are thoroughly enjoying this game, but datv is definitely something that was clearly rushed, half assed, and strung together from the pieces of the dead multiplayer.

pros:

the linear questing is fine. dai was riddled with fluff fetch quests that got boring very quickly. very little of it in datv, but i did not enjoy the treasure quests or haunting missions.

very pretty environments. the team that put together each area did amazing. the lighting was so beautiful in this game. the necropolis especially was really cool to see.

gameplay options are super customizable. you can play with the settings to make it as easy or difficult as you please. it autosaves pretty much before any sizable decision so if you ever change your mind, you can always reload that save.

hair physics are wild, in a good way.

assan is cute.

cons:

the writing is a fucking tragedy. from the main story to little conversations you have with your companions, dialogue is awkward af and stilted. conversations will just abruptly end and you just move on to the next thing. exposition mainly comes from varric talking through slide shows instead of meaningful dialogue and gameplay so the narrative is so disjointed. i was thrown off when i got the prompt to begin the end missions bc i assumed we had 20 more bullshit quests to do. nothing from the previous games matter; unless you boned solas, i guess. the world state questions they ask you are pretty much pointless. making your inquisitor is pointless bc unless they romanced solas, they don't do anything. everyone also repeats themselves constantly. if you've watched angry joe's review of this game, he was not exaggerating with his opening skit. pretty much everyone speaks to you like you're an invalid. i won't go into what was basically retconned from the previous games bc this is already becoming way too long.

the combat is boring and janky. your inputs aren't read very well, the hitboxes for enemy attacks are fucked, the game wants to auto target constantly whether you're locked on or not. like many others who did not enjoy the gameplay, i turned the difficulty to easy to just get through it. even on standard, enemies have way too much health and it gets boring very quickly. class comp doesn't matter, you can face tank anything as whatever class, every class pretty much has magic now, and every companion has the ability to heal you. there is no strat, there is no positioning, no worthwhile combos bc every combo pretty much does the same shit.

too much glow effects. it's on everything. my eyes are so tired from all the flashing lights.

i romanced lucanis, and i didn't even get to kiss him until about 70hrs in.

hair is great, but you can't give yourself tits and ass.

minrathous as a location was fucking wasted. it was boring, dull, and beige. no opulence of the magisters, no signs of fantastical magic holding the city together, no cruelty of slavery and the war. doesn't matter if you play as an elf or qunari, you can just freely walk about and do whatever bc all race and religious tensions are gone.

blood of arlathan was the stupidest quest in the game. it's still insane to me how much bullshit fuckery went into it and none of the professional devs and writers had second thoughts before shipping this game. this quest alone could bring down all of it for me.

companions had potential, but no one has any memorable personalities. everyone was either boring or annoying, which is a huge shame. i could see all the possibilities for them, but i guess the writers were so afraid to put anything potentially interesting in to arouse any feelings???

rook as a protag feels so unnecessary? their role should have been filled by the inquisitor as so many story lines from dai were tied up.

varric twist was stupid. i'm not even mad he's dead bc how they framed it was just confusing. doesn't make sense, but whatever! this franchise is dead and i won't even look at anything mass effect related bc this team can't write for shit or come up with a compelling gameplay loop. :) thanks bioware. i will attempt to erase it from my mind and pretend it ended at dai.

[coachtfd]

Oh maaaan please lemme tell you: I’ve been a United fan more than 20 years and been through thick and thin with the club and it will always be like this. I will always support United and no one else. But at the same time I genuinely DO NOT enjoy watching United for a VERY long time. It’s not the lack of trophies for me personally but the fact that our football is so fucking ugly it physically hurts to watch. We are so poor at footballing activities it boggles the mind! Even against dead last Southampton we were poor as fuck but I wasn’t even surprised because that’s been our standard for a while. Our football is outright unwatchable and if I was a little kid right now I sure as hell would not fall in love with this sorry excuse of a football club. I had huge hopes for Ten Hag but I’m so fed up with him now I can’t stand to look at him nor listen to his bullshit interviews anymore. He has been here for 2 years and he’s done fuck all in my book. And I swear to god I didn’t expect him to win the fucking prem in his first 3 years but I very much HOPED to see good fucking football and he couldn’t deliver! In 2 years we had like 5 good games when I thought this is it! This is how Manchester United football club should play! The rest? Abysmal performances one after another. One season going down the drain like dirty bath water after another.

Oh and not to mention the moral decay the club is in.. they almost brought Greenw**d back no problem! Like my beloved club that I have been supporting with my heart and soul and my money was on the cusp of reintegrating that pos and only changed plans in the last second when they saw that the reaction to that possibility was far from kind and understanding. Then we have another scandal involving Antony who’s still here and playing despite the allegations against him. Should be out the fucking door ffs but the club didn’t even try to get rid of him. Fuck that!

I’m massively disappointed in this club for several reasons so no I can’t even celebrate a win at this point. Win or lose I just acknowledge it and move on. I think in the last 10 years they managed to kill my love and passion I used to have for football itself. I used to miss events and outings just to catch the famous Man United play but now? Sometimes I even forget to check when we play and if I miss a game I just don’t care. Am I plastic now? Am I fake? Guess I’m just disillusioned and bitter. Oh well.

Ah fuck, this got extremely long, feel free to delete it’s whatever x

There it is, that’s what I wanted to get to. I feel you on all of this, I totally get it. And I don’t blame you for thinking or feeling this way, United has put all of us through the wringer. Some of us way more than others because it’s more than just a sports team to them. It is for me.

I remember when glimpses of United was all I could hope for because they didn’t start showing full games on the regular in the US until I was out of high school. My dad would literally interrupt whatever I was doing if he found out that a game was on. We weren’t very close and didn’t get along very well as I got older, but we had football in common, we had United. I don’t take it for granted that a team named United pulled us together when it felt like just about everything else pushed us apart. He loved their resilience, their never quit attitude. As a West Indian, he loved Dwight York and Andy Cole. So I get your passion, and I understand your anger.

I made a promise to the United fans on here that when I truly felt better times were ahead I would let them know, and I’m doing that now for a reason. I was right when I predicted this dark time we’ve been in and I believe I’m right about it coming to an end. It won’t be this season or the next, but it’s coming. I encourage you to keep hoping and to try to rekindle your love for this incredible club. I once said that every United fan is a winner and winners love supporting each other. You’re a winner, and if our club is going to win the league again it needs your support right now. It’s honestly not about me at all, we’re Manchester United, winning is our way. You can’t keep a winner down forever. 🙂

My inbox is always open. If you ever need to vent about United or life, or just need a shot of encouragement, please feel free to write me…that goes for all of my followers. ❤️ #ggmu

[ninadove]

number 11 for feligami (you know this is an excuse to warm my heart)

I am more than happy to warm your heart! 💜

11. What was their first impression of each other?

The thing with these two is, we actually got many different “first impression” scenes, so prepare for a looong post:

Gabriel Agreste (S4 E9):

Obviously, this little staring contest was building up to something, but we weren’t sure what that was at the time (and I don’t think the writing team knew either).

We don’t get much from this scene except that Kagami immediately sees right through Felix’s bullshit - she doesn’t know what it is about him, but it sure is something. Later in Pretention, we see that she is not afraid to call him out on said bullshit, which we always love.

More interestingly, there’s a form of curiosity in the way she holds his gaze and only breaks eye contact when Chloé starts yelling (as she does), continuing to observe him as he gets up to conduct very important plot business. He might be dangerous at this point in the story, but that doesn’t make him any less fascinating.

As for Felix's side: this encounter reads like a “first draft” of the reaction we get from him in Emotion. Even without knowing that Kagami is a Sentibeing, he senses something familiar in her, which reads a lot like this feeling of shared otherness queer people and abuse survivors often get very early on with each other.

But ultimately, at this point in the story, he is on a mission that takes precedence over everything else in his life. Which leads us to their actual first meeting, as in the actually plot relevant one that has been living in my head rent free since Christmas (what a beautiful gift):

Emotion (S5 E18):

Where do I even start with this one. Well I guess we need to start with the beginning.

Emotion is the continuation of Felix’s arc towards regaining his freedom and safety, and so far he hasn’t cared much about throwing people (including and especially his cousin/twin/clone) under the bus to further its advancement. He has an objective and he knows exactly how he will get to it.

Which is why it is so interesting and fun to see him deviate from his plan, out of to sheer concentrated annoyance (Chloé) or romantic interest (Kagami):

Kagami herself said it best: the kiss was a little too much. There was no reason for Adrien to do that. So what motive could Felix potentially have to go so overboard with his displays of affection? Well it’s simple, really: Kagami has the most gorgeous hazel eyes and the cutest nose and freckles like stardust on her cheeks. Flirting with this pretty girl he had already noticed months ago might be part of the plan, but he’s genuinely having the time of his life doing it.

Then of course he notices the ring.

And suddenly it’s not just about Kagami being the cutest girl he’s ever seen anymore. It’s a confirmation of the ✨ vibes ✨ both of them were picking up on in Gabriel Agreste. Of course, the in-universe implication is that they are both Sentibeings, but it’s not actually about that: it is about Felix recognising the horrifying abuse he’s been subjected to in another person, and desperately wanting to reach out to her.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO:

The Diamond Dance breaks my heart into a billion tiny pieces and puts it back together multiple times a day. I am so normal.

Felix is flirting so hard, because of course he is, and it hurts. Kagami cannot see that he is being sincere, and it’s not just because of Adrien: Perfection and Protection have shown us that she has repeatedly felt like an afterthought not only as a love interest, but also as a friend. Her self-esteem has taken a major hit and she cannot believe that anyone could be interested in her romantically at this point.

Which is utter bullshit because look at this boy:

Getting more and more enamored as he discovers that not only does she understand what he’s been through, she’s also brave, intelligent, honest, and considerate in ways that are completely foreign to him.

The best thing about this scene is how Felix « I lie for fun » Graham de Vanily progressively lets his mask slip around her, letting out more and more truths that cannot just be written off as Adrien getting bolder. Until finally he says the most Felix thing ever:

And this is when we get Kagami’s real first impression of him. When so much honesty from her leads him to take his own mask off. When the plans for rebellion and revenge are quickly abandoned for something more important. When he asks her to run away with him.

Obviously, she likes what she sees.

[okthatsgreat]

I had an odd thought for a Danganronpa-sanctioned opddmh, basically after V3 they force the kids to live with Danganronpa participants for whatever reason and I have to wonder. Who do you think would live with who if it was Team Danganronpa controlling where they went?

HBSHFGB oh my god. danganronpa sitcom spinoffs. big brother-esque reality shows. these people get zero breaks

i mean first and foremost danganronpa prioritises entertainment above all else which means they would be over there scheming what the WORST possible combinations would be. theyd throw in maybe one or two "good" pairings just so the audience isnt too overwhelmed by how much everybody hates each other but FOR THE MOST PART theyd try to cause as much conflict as possible.

which means the most argumentative people have got to get paired together, and the least in common they share the better so hmmmm. pairing somebody up with kokichi who is hotheaded and not tolerant of his bullshit will cause a lot of problems and my immediate first thought is mondo or fuyuhiko LMFAOO. i really can not envision a future where any of them cut through the tension enough to talk about their feelings or whatever, ESPECIALLY in regards to kokichi who needs somebody extremely intelligent to decipher all of his lies. like for example if they put kokichi and junko in the same room or kokichi and celeste there is a chance of recognition there, but NOT with kokichi and mondo/fuyuhiko/AKANE even. that house is VOLATILEEE. frankly it is only kokichi that lives there now because both mondo and fuyuhiko have to walk out of their respective homes before they kill kokichi and/or themselves

honestly i could see danganronpa putting maki and peko together just because they think the two of them would see too much in the other and end up hating each other. and frankly they do at first. and they either ignore the hell out of each other or they get into a heated argument where they both reveal a lot more than they should have and then they move forward from there. if team dr wanted to avoid this they could throw her with somebody far more stubborn and less likely to empathise. maybe byakuya or smth. oooo and yknow what kazuichi would be so scared of her always.

cant see kaito and mahiru getting along that much, tsumugi would be pretty bad news for anybody but i can see her and sayaka getting kinda lost in their personas, himiko and hiyoko would get annoyed with each other pretty immediately. tenko would kill teruteru

as for opddmh characters (that we've seen so far lol) UMMM i think throwing ryoma with somebody like ibuki who is a very optimistic presence could cause a bit of clash, but honestly she might be so persistent that it either causes ryoma to recoil even further into his shell or it somehow changes his life????? ryoma and ibuki might be one of the pairings that team dr makes specifically to bump up morale a bit and turn him into some hope story. but on the opposite end of that spectrum they would NOT hold that same leniency with miu and theyd probably throw her with somebody like taka just to piss the both of them off but not in a way that either of them would be willing to hear the other side out. throwing kirumi with celeste would lead the both of them into a spiral and kirumi would make zero progress with growth, honestly could be extremely similar with kirumi and sonia, throwing angie (ALONE) with quite a few people could be pretty bad. like if angie and mikan were the only two people in that apartment there could definitely be wayyyy more problems than there already is, mostly because mikan is already very susceptible to angies positive influence already. rantaro would be chill with pretty much everybody i cant really lie to you. i reckon just to really highlight his paranoia and send him down that path rather than any kind of healing he should get paired with somebody that is either too closed off and shady (which would cause opddmh rantaro to recoil away from them and likely run off without returning) OR somebody that is gonna keep telling him that his family is out there and he needs to keep searching

so yea FUCKED UP!!!! just to have one last "hopeful" pairing theyd maybe throw shuichi to the naegi household just so he could learn about believing in himself or whatever

[f1stuffblog]

I "love" people like this who have no idea but they talk ! They are not within the team ! They don't know a thing about team's leadership ! They did not even put the time to check, if what they said is truth, because this is bullshit ! Manu stayed with team and talked to the boys after Frankfurt and Thomas went to media ! Did not happen again ever since ! Before he was fcking injured ! He has been there always ever since !!! Always ! Always explaining everything ! Standing by his team and coach ! But media spread this.

This idiots who want to destroy Bayern constantly talk about us despite not knowing anything ! Spreading sh*t all around ! They think that praising Thomas instead of others will break this team or what is it about ?

They don't know a thing about Manu as a leader of this team for years ! What he has done and always did, what he still does ! They are that stupid they even did not notice how much influence he has on everyone around !

They did not break us by attacking Tuchel, by made of news ! They try attack on Manu ! They think Thomas will step up against him because of what he reads in media or what ? That will never happen between them !

But again they think they will break us by attacking Manu ? That Manu who does not give a shit about what media say about him !

How funny that they went after him last year when he stood against baby coach ( doing one of many stupid things he did) but expect him to go against coach now, when team needs him to show trust and support to Tuchel ? Also he was not allowed to speak despite it touched him personally as it was " destroying " the team according to them ! But they only attack this team now ! Same people !

" pseudo" legends of German football have mouth full of Manu and this team despite they can not compare to him football or leading wise even combined ! Unlike them he is a legend and very rightful captain of this team ! So interesting he was voted in every single team he has played for ! All people being around him daily were wrong but German media are the owners of the truth 🤦‍♀️

Not saying Tomi would make any worse captain than Manu ! Just saying his leadership is very different ( for the first time I feel that those people seem offended by Thomas not being captain despite all Manu has done..well congrats they now belong to that small group of idiots still shouting against him= something Tomi does not give a fuck about who has that stupid armband on the arm ). And Manu was chosen for very clear reasons !

Manu's silent and calm leadership is very different to Thomas and his extroverted and loud self. Though it does need both of them and they complement each other perfectly in leading this team out of this situation! It is only good combined and together and who wears armband does not change anything in pair which has so much respect and so big of friendship among themselves!

And definitely who speaks bulshit to media to answer their stupid questions, which get worse and worse daily is so irrelevant that I can't even express it ! It's called dividing duties if those clowns did not understand it !

Thomas is clearly better in speaking to media since Manu is not able to pretend those questions are not BS ! As well as he is obviously pissed by them as his constructive and focused self considers it the time he could use to help this group lost. At best he manages with being ironical or answering seriously but with face that says everything!

Thomas despite being less calmer in general has unbelievable patience with media on the other hand ! So way better suited.

On the contrary Thomas is exactly the type who is that pissed on himself and everyone after lost game, that he can not directly talk to the team because he can not be that calm force which shows it all will get better and calm the emotions ! That's where Manu is exceptional so he steps up there !

Both has lead this team for years and got it through a lot of BS together ! I doubt they need any advice on leadership, how, why or who can do stuff. Why should they change way of work they had since when ? 2016 at least ? Everyone sensible knows Thomas is close to Manu as his right hand ! Everyone knows they have divided duties for years (always) both in Bayern and in die Manschaft! Everyone knows Manu trusts Thomas more than any of his teammates and that he relies on him with many things and same applies vice versa ! That Manu trusts Thomas's leadership and vice versa, that Manu because of that leaves many stuff on Thomas ! Because he knows, he can manage them maybe even better himself based on his personality. Manu was never solo player even in captaining ! Though now he is critisised even for that !

This team might have many problems = but those are called neither Neuer nor Muller and definitely not captains ! ( Yes I use plural because this team has always had 2 even when Philip was doing it Manu had many duties !) Worked very well for years ! Proven with time !

Everyone understands that except of self proclaimed " experts" !

* disclimer = I admit Effenberg was a successful football player = does not mean he knows anything about current Bayern and this also was not only directed on him ! But on media in general

*disclimer 2 Josh is not in possition of any of them ! He is still just prepared to lead this team and he does in a way already, but this is not even his job ! It is his responsibility probably like the one of any other player and despite he does it regularly!

[waveofstars]

PENNY MASON: bio + stats.

click here for statsclick here for pinterest click here for playlist read below for bio.

traits: sensitive, kind, withdrawn, creative, awkward, perfectionist, bookworm, affectionate, stubborn, analytical, determined, ambitious

aesthetic: worn pages, art museums, blazers, messy hair, inked answers of a crossword, too many cups of coffee, a mirrorball & a lover, oversized glasses, oil paints, romance novels, italian countryside, sun bathing, tarot cards & astrology charts, late night conversations, quiet observer

BIO:

They were a team - the five of them. Rosemary, Iris, Penelope, Sage, and their mother Willow. Penelope always wondered why her mother strayed from the theme of floral names when it came to choosing her name, but her mother always defended that the shortened name Penny was close enough to Peony. It felt like she was destined to simply be different from the rest of her family. Raised in rural Tennessee, the Mason clan lived life a bit differently than most around them. They had little to their name other than the inherited few acres of land they lived on. Their father was out of the picture, or perhaps fathers… Penny was never too sure. Even if her sisters could be her half-sisters, it wouldn’t change a thing for her. Penny loved them unconditionally and was able to find some sort of peace in their unorthodox life due to them. Penny was one of the few to realize at a young age that their mother had some substance abuse issues and a hefty addiction to gambling. Their mother hid behind that truth by painting each day like it was an adventure. Their old clothes and small dinners were just an unimportant trait of life. They should be grateful for what they had and should feel so lucky to grow the way they did away from television screens and modernity. That’s what their mother always reminded them, anyways.

The five of them worked together as a team, even when their mother found ways to make money. She was a housekeeper of sorts - someone who cleaned and took care of properties on the nicer side of town. She put her children to work with her, tugging along four kids who all helped by mowing lawns, cleaning gutters, or folding sheets. Penny often envied the people they worked for, and no matter how many times their mother tried to convince her that their life was far better than the folks they cleaned for, she didn’t believe it. She saw through the white lies and exaggerated promises their mother gave. Penny had always been a quiet observer and could see right through the people around her. You’re too smart for your own good, her mother always said. Likely because she didn’t enjoy the fact that Penny could see right through her own bullshit so easily.

The older they all got, the more apparent it became that their mother could hardly take care of them and only cared about using their money for her vices. They all coped in their own ways, picking up hobbies and lifestyles to separate them from their childhood. Penny was fond of reading growing up, keeping her head low in a book at any given time. Reading eventually led to writing, and learning about the world outside of rural Tennessee. Slowly as they aged, her sisters began to leave home despite their mother’s pleas to stay. It eventually dwindled down to Penelope, Sage, and their mother. As much as she wanted to stick around to help Sage, Penny was just as determined to leave home as her older sisters were. Soon as high school ended, Penny put herself in college with the help of a few scholarships she applied for and far too many student loans. She didn’t care if she was in debt, because at least she was no longer in that small backwoods town.

Penny studied journalism and moved to San Francisco for school. With a thirst to finally live her life, she decided to take out more loans in her name and study abroad. She spent a year studying in Italy and fell deeply in love with art history while she was there. She eventually decided to minor in the topic. Italy proved to be a lot of firsts for her - the first time out of the country, the first time she felt truly independent, and the first time she ever fell in love. She was a romantic by heart, something she often blamed on the books she read. Meeting Luis in Italy was the best kind of first love she could’ve ever had. They were perfect together, but she knew it was temporary. She wished to return to America and knew Luis belonged right there in the countryside of Italy. Long distance just seemed silly, so they amicably separated once she returned from her studies.

Now graduated, she’s back in San Francisco, living with a roommate, and working at a local newspaper. It isn’t the highest paying job, but she’s being paid to write and far from the life she once had. Her older sister Iris doesn’t live too far away and she often keeps in touch with her other sisters but vows to never return to Tennessee. Penelope grew into a beautiful woman, even if she was a bit awkward from time to time and her perfectionist personality can rub some the wrong way… she was proud of who she became and proud of who she will become. She will always be that quiet observer with glasses too large for her small face, but life was far better now that she has moved on from the past.

[elemyah]

hello! im a recent follower of your blog, and i wanted to bounce a Ryuji fic idea! i wanted to write something angst or hurt/comfort with him, but im a bit dry as to what exactly can i angst or hurt him XD i was thinking about writing about his leg injury, but i wasnt sure if im able to write him right since ive never written him before can you give me a rundown of his personality? like, what are his key characterizations?

Hi, and welcome! Ryuji is my favorite, so I’ll try to help as I can.

Before anything, I just want to make it clear that much of how I interpret him is based on headcanons I came up with during the years, so it might not always be canon accurate.

That being said, I'll put some of my thoughts on him under the cut, since I'll probably ramble a bit.

If you don’t want to read my long ramblings about my favorite character, there’s a small list of key characteristics at the end. Anyway…

To me, Ryuji's main characteristic is that he's incredibly loyal. Be it to his friends, his mom, or his goal of being a Phantom Thief and do good. He can be pretty silly and dense, and sometimes his mouth goes much faster than his brain, but he's always trying to do what he thinks is best, and help those who need. He considered dropping out of school to help his mom financially, allowed his old team to (unfairly) let out their frustrations on him, was ready to sacrifice himself for the other Phantom Thieves, and is always willing to shield his friends, or fight for their sake no matter what. He has a strong sense of justice too, much stronger than his self-preservation and fear of consequences, as we saw with what happened with Kamoshida (I also don’t doubt he would’ve punched Shido’s face without a second thought if he knew who he was when they came across him… He’s the kind who acts by instinct before he thinks, and frequently get into trouble for it).

He’s someone who, despite his short patience, is also very forgiving. He was annoyed at Yusuke and Makoto at first, but didn’t think twice before helping them once he understood their situation. This is even clearer with Akechi, since Ryuji never trusted or liked him, but also had one of the strongest reactions to his story and “death”, even saying that he was more than special when Akechi had a breakdown after his fight in Shido’s palace. He’s the kind who takes no bullshit, and hates people who harm others and abuse their power, but is willing to give people a second chance if he feels they are willing to do better.

Since you’re planning to write about his injury, I think it’s important to keep in mind that not only did Ryuji lose something he loved to do and his chance to become a professional athlete when Kamoshida broke his leg, but he was also shunned by his team for it, and had to deal with the guilt of his mom apologizing for raising him on her own. It’s a bunch of terrible things happening at once, and I wish the game gave it all a little more attention, since people tend to forget about everything Ryuji went through because his personal drama isn’t as present in the narrative as other characters’. (There’s also the abusive father situation, which is something that doesn’t go away easily, but the game just mentions it and then forgets about it later…)

Ryuji was also probably pretty lonely before he met Joker, given how he was treated at school. That might be why he got so attached to Joker so quickly, since he was the first person in a long time to be willing to listen to his side of things and get to know him without the usual judgment. (Also, unrelated to Ryuji, but I feel like Joker felt the same way about him, since Ryuji was the first to listen to his side of things and be on his side. They were a good support for each other in their time of need, and that’s one of the reasons their friendship got so strong in such a short time). I also like how Ryuji’s emotional intelligence works, because he can be very dense for some things, but then there are moments when he’s the first to notice something is wrong with one of the PTs and tries to do something about it. Like when Yusuke mentions that people avoid him at school, and Ryuji immediately invites him to go out after that. He can be a little blunt, but he never tries to hide how much he cares about those close to him, and does what he can to help them when they need, or cheer them up when things go badly.

This goes more into headcanon territory, but I also think Ryuji is afraid of becoming like his abusive father. He’s constantly being treated as a “good for nothing punk” by teachers and classmates, was called a traitor and shunned by his old team, has a short temper, and often acts without thinking. It feels to me like he’s not only fully aware of his flaws, but also internalized this idea that he can do nothing right, so he (consciously or not) tries to compensate by being a hero as a Phantom Thief. Of course, he does care about the people they’re helping, but I think part of it is also him trying to prove to others and mostly himself that he can be good, and do good, and not just harm others like his father (or even Kamoshida) did. I can’t remember the exact words, but he mentions after Shido’s palace that he liked feeling like a hero, to the point he lost sight of what they were doing, and why. But, in the end, I think Ryuji put helping people who have no one to rely on, and no way out of a bad situation as his main goal, since I’m sure he often wished someone would help him (and his mom) when he needed, but ended up having to struggle on his own until he met Joker. So, in short, I think he has the best intentions and a willingness to do good things, but can easily get lost in his own problems and insecurities. His self-esteem is also pretty low, given how he often lets people treat him badly with little to no protests (some of it was for the sake of “humor” in the game, but it doesn’t change the fact that sometimes the group is unnecessarily mean to him).

TL/DR: to me, his main characteristics are loyalty, willing to do good (despite not always knowing how, or the best way to approach certain situations), and some pretty low self-esteem behind his confident and positive attitude. He’s a dork, but has a strong sense of justice, and often acts before he thinks. He can be dense, but is also openly caring and affectionate with those close to him, is always trying to help them, and tends to put their needs and feelings above his own (which can also be a flaw).

If it’s difficult for you to write him, it might be a good idea to read a few fics by different authors, and see which parts of their characterization feel right to you. I’m more of a P5 writer than a reader, so I don’t really have fic recs, but Ryuji is a fairly beloved character nowadays, so it should be easy to find good fics and rec posts around.

Anyway, sorry for the wall of text, I hope some of it can be of help to you. I love Ryuji, and it makes me happy to know you're interested in writing him. Good luck!

[its-no-biggie]

okay listen. i love the pevensies. they have some really accurate sibling conflicts, like none of them taking lucy seriously because shes the youngest, edmund being easily turned against the others because of his unaddressed resentment, and peter being responsible to the point of overbearing. theyre solid fictional siblings! but NO ONE is doing it like the elrics

and the key difference is that the pevensies dont really like each other?? they love and care for each other, certainly, but they dont get along most of the time and theyre constantly at odds. theres a major power dynamic, and all of them hold some level of resentment toward each other because of that power dynamic. this is certainly realistic, and they do work through some of it, but you kind of get the sense that they love each other out of obligation/proximity, which creates some emotional distance between them. they take care of each other but they dont SUPPORT each other. and it leads to things like edmund getting taken advantage of by the witch or lucy running off by herself all the time.

the elrics, on the other hand, are best friends. theres no significant power dynamic- theyre both equally protective of each other and treat each other with great respect. they go everywhere together, tell each other everything, and each of their motives is to get the OTHER their body back. ed lays down his life for al VERY early on in the show, and toward the end al deliberately puts his life in eds hands (haha get it? cause its...... eds hand....... ANYWAY-) the biggest conflict between them is when al gets manipulated by barry the chopper, which was also partially triggered by ed choosing not to tell al something out of fear of what he would think. that whole conflict is about what happens when the 2 of them keep things bottled up in order to avoid hurting each other. meanwhile lucy is out here running away in the middle of the night because she knows her siblings either wont believe her, or wont let her go because its too dangerous. the pevensies WANT what the elrics have.

and if youre thinking "well thats great but no siblings are like that in real life, its unrealistic" i regret to inform you that i am in fact that close with my siblings. we used to be much more like the pevensies- we spent a lot of time together and cared about each other, but there was a major power dynamic and we didnt get along. then in middle school we realized we were all on the same team and got over our bullshit. and now we're best friends.

now, age does also play a factor- the age gap between me and my siblings is closer to the elrics than the pevensies, so its easy for me to say "the power dynamic is bullshit, lets just be friends!" when its a bit more complicated than that. so, given the age gap, it is understandable that peter would take a more parental role. but you can still have a parent/older sibling who takes charge without talking down to the other person?? especially because, and i just learned this recently, apparently younger siblings genuinely look up to their older siblings??? like its not unreasonable for peter to take charge, but it IS unreasonable for him to dismiss lucy just because shes the youngest. a power dynamic doesnt always have to create resentment, even among teenagers. and yes peters treatment of lucy is addressed, but its in a very christian "children are valued by god" way instead of a "shes a person with valid thoughts and opinions too, you know" way- and im not here to critique the validity of that, im just saying it doesnt really strengthen their sibling dynamic. this is ESPECIALLY clear with the edmund situation- he gets all the blame for that as if his siblings did nothing to drive him away??? maybe if you made him feel loved he wouldnt even be tempted to sell you out!

anyway, in conclusion theyre both very realistic, however the elrics like each other more and thats rarer to see and also way more fun in my opinion. thank you for coming to my ted talk

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