a group of becker’s men,  lars included (if she isn’t the founder of the idea)  go airsoft like once a month just to keep the vibes going and the whole ‘team building’ bs lars and becker both snort at.  they invited becker once and never again.  like,  yes,  they’re all special forces,  but he’s.... a creature from another planet type-special forces

Captain Becker aka sassy soldier boy

BUKHARI .

𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧     empty space is quickly noted ; perhaps despair ?  that’s pushing it , instead begins her scrawling in the margins of her note pad - BARYONYX ?  keeping her on her toes , lest they think she was hired for her dinosaur knowledge. however she takes the hint of humor , & rewards it with a smile , always glad for a good day. grateful hands take her own coffee , the fifth of the day ,     ❛  do you know , we conveniently didn’t discuss his swim technique. must’ve been because he was sat cuddling the electric blanket  -  you’re welcome to have a go at it if you’d like , i’ve another that smells much less like a river & more like lavender.  ❜     smile twitches at the corners of her mouth, threat of a grin becoming much more real by the moment ,     ❛ if not , i’m sure dog would love a good snuggle to make up for the offence , of course.  ❜

Without missing a beat,  he responds,   “  He knows that’s not on the cards,  ”   And allows himself to sit back.  These walls are familiar,  as are the humming fish tanks over her shoulder.  The entire team smells of river water,  an obstinate scent he hasn’t yet managed to rid his nose of,  though he’s dry--- and he’s easy-going,  malleable under her often inquisitive stare,  like he should always have something further to add.  He seldom finds that he does,  likely to her disappointment.   “  Next time I take a dip,  ”  He says,  as though he’s even taken the first at any other point,   “  I’ll take you up on the,  ”   Nose wrinkles,  just a fleeting lick of distaste he admits to,   “  Lavender blanket.  How’s that?  ”

Becker’s trained himself to lower his heart rate almost on the spot bc predators can sense it and i think that’s both very smart and honestly very sad

FORESTBOUND

Unsurprisingly,  Hilary isn’t often home,  but when he is he’s an absolute home-body.  The dog,  the bookshelves,  the often-used kitchen  ---  he hasn’t got an open hearth but if he could he would.  His house is all dark oak and leather  (some furniture is handmade),  and despite how he comes across he’s no minimalist,  there’s a whole wall of books in the living room,  and office-cum-artroom upstairs that’s stacked with,  yes,  more books and canvases.  Nothing is messy and everything has it’s very rightful place (the man loves a right-angle so still don’t move anything) but it’s lived-in,  and well-loved.  The only place that is actually a mess is his bedside draw which is full of scraps of paper and notebooks  ---  he writes down thoughts late at night and drops them in there,  it’s his emergency method of decompression and grounding.  Everything else is perfect as it is,  but it doesn’t feel like he’s the man who’s never there,  it actually feels like his space,  it feels like his home.  Anyone would expect white walls and crisp edges but no,  that’s just his brain.

As time goes on, you’ll understand. What lasts, lasts; what doesn’t, doesn’t. Time solves most things. And what time can’t solve, you have to solve yourself.

Haruki Murakami (via sunsetquotes)

ANDERSON .

“ I feel like a gunslinger from a Western. Are you sure this is a good idea? I’m happy with just using EMD’s “

“  A little short for a gunslinger,  aren’t you?  ”  He grants her a murmur of ostensible assessment,  then cants his head for casual resignation.  It’s easy-going,  as though he lacks the typical disdain for the glorified tazer.   “  Work with the EMD,  then,  if you’d prefer.  ”

big beetles:  get the shotguns and the explosives  predators literally in the arc: aight lads fetch the stun guns

In the end you can’t always choose what to keep. You can only choose how you let it go.

Ally Condie (via sunsetquotes)

BECKETT .

❛  𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧 ,  ❜     a tablet is produced  & placed on the corner edge of the desk between them ,     ❛  you’ve got the right to know i’ll be recording this session , prospero’s rule.  ❜     & with that , she reaches over & taps the screen to begin the recording. pen clicks in left hand , & she begins by writing his name , rank , & a frown. her attention returns to him with a smile that does not match her eyes ,     ❛  captain , we’ll be starting by discussing the latest incursion , or rather , why you’re here with me & not her.  feel free to start where you’d like.  ❜

He wears impassivity all too well,  a secondary visage built piece by piece to counter the exhaustion he actually feels.  Her desk is broad,  though it might as well not exist - for the strange sense of invasion the session riles within him.  Discomfort itches for him,  sets high-strung nerves on alert---  encourages the typical;  one exit,  the same door he’d come through,  room’s not as small as it feels and his feet are on the floor.  Easier to ground himself with the sensation of feeling,  though the tap-tapping of her pen strikes him behind the eyes.  Becker doesn’t wince for it.

“  Utahraptor,  presumably.  ”   He says,   uniform as ever.  It suits him.   “  Third-floor apartment,  one injured---  critical,  though not fatal.  ”

that being said he wears his formals to funerals so ig most people have seen it because there’s a funeral every week in this line of work

never forget i made Becker finally get his Campaign Medal for serving in Zone 1 under the banner of Operation Telic so shortly after the vanishing of the team and Sarah’s death that he felt much less pride than he perhaps should have done and instead went through the entire ceremony  (very small,  thank god,  he didn’t want much and most people don’t even know he has it unless you see him in formals)  burying a panic attack and the need to vomit.

becker’s concerning habit of wanting to lock people in the past to die... something to ponder

time for giganotosaurus on the top gear track vs becker’s mossberg 590 - who will win

tlmelcss​ .*

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧     sat perfectly still at her feet all day suddenly stirs. with a soft whine , he stretches & sits up straight at attention. it’s all the announcement he needs , & soon as he enters , dog will greet him happily with a cold nose pressed to his wrist. surayra however , does not even look up from the mountain of paperwork she’s got before her ,     ❛  if you’re here for the digestives , i’m afraid connor’s eaten the last of them.  if you’re here for your appointment , you’re late.  ❜     if one looks close enough , they’d find a smile.  it fades quickly as she moves to clear her desk , paperwork is set neatly on the spot where dog was previously sat.     ❛  can’t imagine your day’s been easy ,  but i’ve been told we don’t need to alert any next of kin ,  so perhaps it went easier than most?  ❜

Unsurprised,  he drops his gaze to the space on her desk where there would have once been the packet of digestives.  After Connor’s brush with death today,  he doesn’t necessarily blame him for the ostensibly ravenous appetite---  though Becker’s coffee now sits untouched.  He’d brought hers too,  and still managed to appear in her doorway almost on time.   “  A Baryonyx in the Waterworks River,  ”   He divulges,  taking his seat with some vague hint of humour laced within his tone---  as much as one such as he can muster,  anyway.  A cant of his head prompts the pique of a scarred brow.  He collects his coffee and remarks over the rim.   “  Did you know Temple swims like a dog?  ”   Then he drops his gaze to the one at his feet,  lays a hand between his ears.   “  No offence.  ”