#Hey the value of Thing 1 is x. when i add Thing 2 to my basket why does x change when Thing 1 and Thing 2 are unrelated.

[touyaz]

customer service ppl are soo 🤬🤼💢 not even going on a murderous rampage could help me rn

[comicaurora]

Hey Red, I'm trying to build a better understanding of mathematics, because to my mind math has always been a collection of arcane sigils that I had to memorize to pass tests in school. I must know how these sigils came to be and why they mean what they mean. Are there any resources you recommend I use in my pursuit of these secrets? Please and Thank You 🙏

It's good you described math as something you "build," because I think that's the best analogy possible.

Mathematics, in its purest form, involves no memorization. Math is the process of taking a very small number of established truths and defined operations that preserve truth, and using those operations on your established truths to expand your space of known truths. As long as you start from a point of truth and only use operations that preserve truth, you will derive truths. If you understand the base principles from which a branch of math is constructed, you can rederive it from first principles. Memorization is easier, but you can rederive it.

For instance, we can start with two things, the number "1" and the operation "+". 1 means "a single thing" and + means "put them together." If those two concepts exist, then we also have 2, 3, 4, and every other positive integer, because we can derive them by using + on as many 1s as we want. If we drop a rock on an empty patch of ground, and then drop a rock on that same patch of ground, that patch of ground now has two rocks on it.

If we include within the definition of "+" that there exists an identity value 0, and every value has an inverse that when added to it produces zero, we also get 0 and all the negative integers, producing the group of integers. Every integer can be expressed using nothing but the number 1, the + operation, and its inverse - if we're feeling spicy.

If we decide to add another truth-preserving operation, "*", with identity value 1 and the same kind of inverse property that "+" has, we rederive every rational number. Every number in this field of rational numbers can be described as a combination of 0s and 1s using only + and * and their inverses; truthful objects combined in truth-preserving operations. We started from the truth and we used it as our only building material to create something equally truthful.

We can memorize a multiplication table, but multiplication is just iterated addition. If we forget, we can just do the addition again.

Algebra is a simple rearrangement of a simple beginning math problem by way of other truth-preserving operations. When you're starting out, you might expect to see something like

3 + 5 = ?

Algebra starts when we replace "?" with a placeholder, "x". This is just a change of terminology. It preserves truth.

3 + 5 = x

This isn't what most algebra problems look like, though. Most basic algebra problems look more like

3x + 7 = 31

But these two formulae are the same, because we can turn one into the other through operations that preserve truth.

3x + 7 = 31 -> subtracting the same value from both sides of the equation is an operation that preserves truth. We subtract 7 from both sides, getting

3x = 24 -> dividing both sides of the equation by the same value is also an operation that preserves truth. We divide both sides by 3, getting

x = 8 -> addition is associative, so we can break 8 up however we want if we do

x = 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 = (1 + 1 + 1) + (1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1) = 3 + 5

Solving an algebra problem is the process of breaking down the things that make it complicated using the truth-preserving operations that defeat them. Added values can be subtracted. Multiples can be divided. Exponents can be root'd.

We understand what it means to put a placeholder in a math problem. We realize, by the same token, we can put in more than one placeholder, if we want. This gives us problems that don't have single numerical solutions, but spaces of solutions. Consider

2*x = ?

We do what we did before, replacing that "?" with something that means the same thing. We use a different letter to avoid confusion.

2*x = y

Now we have multivariable algebra. Instead of getting hard numbers for both variables, we have pairs of numbers. If we pick an x, we get a y. If we pick a y, we get an x. The relationship between the values is clearly defined; x will always be y/2. If x is 3, y is 6. If x is -1.8, y is -3.6.

Now for the sake of convenience, we create shorthand - another change of terminology that preserves truth. We come up with a term that describes this relationship between x and y. We decide to call y a "function."

y = f(x) = 2*x

A function is what we're calling one half of an equation; what goes on the other side of the equals sign. It's just a rename, like when we turned ? into x. It preserves truth.

The trick at this stage is that every element of this seeming increasingly complexity is actually an attempt to make the process simpler as we handle more and more things. We don't technically need any numbers other than 0 and 1 if we're just dealing with rational numbers. We could write 378/5 with nothing but 1s and +, -, * and /, but by god we wouldn't want to. We could write [x^3 + 2x + 5] as ?*?*? + ? + ? + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 and it would mean the same thing. The shorthand and symbols get dizzying if you lose track of what they mean, but when you remember what they mean, you understand why you need them.

Any piece of mathematical shorthand basically means "for this thing we're talking about, this set of things is known to be true." We can rederive those things if we need to, but the shorthand is there to help us avoid doing it unnecessarily. We call the integers a group because that means it has an associative operation that is invertible and has an identity element that, when used in the operation, leaves the operated-on value unchanged. We don't want to write that out every time we use + or remember what 0 means, but we can if we have to.

Calculus is where most people think math turns into wizardry, but derivatives and integrals are just another pair of inverse functions like + and - or * and /, and the building block of this branch of math is the derivative. Any formula for a derivative can, in a pinch, be rederived by calculating the difference quotient (f[x+h]-f[x])/h as h approaches 0. If f(x)=x^2, we may memorize that its derivative f'(x)=2x, or we may calculate

[f(x+h) - f(x)]/h =

([x+h]^2 - x^2)/h =

(x^2 + 2xh + h^2 - x^2)/h =

(2xh + h^2)/h = 2x + h

And the limit of this as h->0 is 2x.

Everything in math can be broken down to first principles. Everything. Sometimes it's very hard to figure out what tool you need to break it down to its next stage of simplification, but it was built from first principles and it can be broken down the same way. If it isn't making sense, break it down with truth-preserving methods until it does - even if you have to go all the way back to zeroes and ones.

[min-jpg]

Hi!! Can you do they boys getting kidnapped but its Diluc, Childe, and Kazuha? Thank you!!💗💗

Note: I just want to point out that there's no actual reason on how I choose for the reader to beat up the kidnappers since part 1,, it's totally random as long as I'm trying out different ideas whatever fits ehe. Enjoy! 💖

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Kidnapped Genshin Boys x Fem Rich!reader pt.2

Part 1 (Kaeya, Zhongli, Xiao)

Characters: Childe, Diluc, Kazuha

Genre: fluff, established relationship, some woman kicking ass action, (TW: mentions of blood and violence)

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CHILDE

Your boyfriend would definitely try to go head-to-head against the shady group of people who abducted him. The gang accountable must be living under the rock for even considering one of the most dangerous Harbingers as their prey to carry out their schemes.

However, Childe learned that there would be ramifications if he tries to be rash without gathering solid intel first. Having no knowledge of your current circumstances and whereabouts troubled him to the core. They could have already sent out a corresponding group towards you and endanger you if he failed to listen.

Being wealthy is not a foreign concept to Childe as he is also a wealthy man himself. That said, the premonition of being a target for a ransom would not be unrealistic to him. For now, he is glad that he is the victim here instead of having to witness you kidnapped.

"You know, you could've asked me nicely for some money. I might just give it to you, instead of doing all this for my girlfriend's money." Despite being in a position far from desirable, Childe leisurely sat on the chair that he was bound to, crossing his legs. He was making small talks to push away the worst scenarios happening to you. Are you safe? Are you crying? Did they hurt you?

"I don't know who you are to be running your mouth, but you should value your life a little more." Their leader emerged from the group.

Childe's ocean eyes squinted as menace casts upon his pupils, his voice lowered, "Is that so? Ironic, because you guys seem to value money more than your lives."

The head stepped back slightly, "Enough with your empty threats! You should be aware of the current situation you're in. We're not fooling around here."

"I'm not fooling around either."

As sparks were thrown back and forth, you made your way in through the main entrance. Tapping the shoulder that belongs to one of the men, "Excuse me, I need to get to my boyfriend." Your fist sunk into the side of his face when he turned towards you. He collapsed on the ground with a few broken teeth and blood spewing out of his mouth. Moving on to the next adversary in your path, you fought with full faith in your abilities no matter how intimidating they were.

Soon, the leader and people further ahead finally took notice of it. You pave your way towards your boyfriend and eventually, both your eyes meet each other. Childe puffed out a breath of relief when he finally saw you, but also registering the fact that you just took down most of the men with your bare hands.

Kicking away the men who tried to grab you, you then waved enthusiastically at Childe, "Hey girlie, hold still." Rushing right ahead to the leader, you brought your arm near your face, elbow pointing outwards. The sharp edge from your elbow jabbed his throat, causing him to choke and lose balance.

As his reaction dulled, it was your chance to strike again. Thus, you gallantly overthrew their leader and the entire gang by yourself.

After helping Childe, he stood up abruptly and placed his hands on your shoulder with eagerness written all over the face, "I never knew you could fight so well! How about a spar with me right now?" Expect your boyfriend to continuously bug you to indulge in his rampant itch to fight anyone that comes across as a worthy opponent. Though, the real takeaway from this experience was the way your hair clings to your face with sweat as the adhesive and the triumph look in your eyes. It was a rather attractive sight to relish in his taste.

DILUC

Your boyfriend would be infuriated that crooked people like these exist, much less target him to extort money from you. Just another validation to add up on how incompetent the Knights of Favonious is, he thought. Someone will have to clean up their mess, that someone being him. What better way to do that than to follow them to their hideout to seek out the whole organization?

Diluc is renowned for being one of the richest men in Teyvat. Naturally, the group thought they hit the jackpot on not only holding him for ransom, but potentially garnering some money from him as well.

The only concern he carries is your wellbeing. Diluc fears that this incident will affect you mentally. His head started filling up with formulations on ways to resolve this matter without causing any uproar to guarantee your safety.

When the head was introduced to him, he gritted his teeth to suppress every ounce of his might to not reach for his claymore. Diluc still has to prioritize gathering information first regarding the gang. His patrons at Angel's Share are usually the ones providing him with promising intel of any evildoers, but some things are just meant to be obtained by himself.

"Is this the only hideout you have? Quite in a shambles, don't you think?" Diluc's eyes shifted around the dilapidated building, observing the surroundings to know his enemies better.

The leader rolled his eyes, "It wouldn't be so bad once we get some funding from you and your girlfriend." Diluc hummed. Judging from his answer, it is safe to assume that the organization is rather a small scaling one. Defeating them right now will result in uprooting the source once and for all.

As Diluc was about to do so, a lackey of the gang ran frantically towards them, panting labored when he reached and trying to catch his breath. "What is it?" The leader question.

"T-there's... there's someone." He pointed towards a direction with fear layering his voice.

"What? Why are you so scared?" They all glanced towards the spot.

"I swear there was a woman! I don't know who it is, but she took out some of our guys on guard outside."

In disbelief that a woman could have done anything so reckless, the leader trudged to said location. As it is a spot lacking light, the darkness and shadow made it challenging for him to pinpoint if anyone is there. When he moved closer, you crept out behind from his blind spot and kicked the back of his head, causing his head to spin. Your arm lunged forward, gaining a tight hold onto his nape. You put everything into pushing him, his forehead hammered down to the floor. Creating a loud thud, it gave him a concussion.

"Looking for me?" Your foot stamped onto his back, just making sure he stays down.

Everyone, including your boyfriend, had their pupils dilated at the scene. You sighed at the silence, "All of you just messed with the wrong couple." Lifting your foot away, you stomped forward without giving them a second thought. Your arms and legs are all warmed up for many rounds against your foes.

Diluc watched you from afar as you drove your way towards victory. Although he could step in to help, he admits silently to himself that he would like to observe you a little longer. Putting his trust in your calibers to carry you far, his eyes never left your brave figure.

Once you cleared the group, the next thing to do is checking on Diluc. Already unfastening the restrains himself, he walked to you, "That was well executed. Your abilities shouldn't be underestimated. Don't join the Knights though." He stressed the last remark, scoffing. You chuckled and held his hand to guide him out of here, "Thanks. Glad to impress you, Master Diluc. Let's go home."

KAZUHA

Your boyfriend is a rather hard target to impose on for their plans of kidnapping him. His senses are just too refined for an ordinary person to challenge. Basic tactics, such as overthrowing him with the element of surprise have proven to be futile. Thus, Kazuha will always be able to evade falling prey into their hands.

The only way Kazuha could have been kidnapped is through falsifying evidence of you being in a life-threatening situation. Although he has successfully saved his own skin, not the same could be applied to you. Feeling his resolve shaken, what other choices could he have? Prioritizing your safety is the most important thing right now.

Kazuha may have faced similar situations in the past when out in the sea, encountering pirates of other crew aiming for the Crux Fleet's fortune. Being in the position as a captive for ransom is new. He actually found it amusing, rather than having thoughts of blaming you. It is not your fault that you are blessed with wealth. It is the fault of the criminals.

"Ain't you that the kid who's with Beidou? You're part of her crew." The leader questioned his target, to which he was greeted by Kazuha's silence. "Tell you what. You're just like the rest of us. We want to be rich. How about you ask your girlfriend to bring some more money and we'll give you a share as well?"

Kazuha's face darkened, "I don't know what you've heard, but it must be really valiant of you to assume to worst out of the Crux Fleet and myself. I'd appreciate it if you cease lumping me together with criminals like you."

The Crux Fleet does put up with an infamous reputation amongst the Qixing. Perhaps the abductors concluded that Kazuha has a negative conscience just like them, as in upholding a relationship with you to have a taste of your assets. Still, if he tried to talk his way out of it, barbarians like them will never reach a mutual understanding with him. Kazuha shut his eyes, ignoring any further confrontations to preserve his energy as he contemplates a plan.

He was interrupted when he thought he heard your voice nearby, carried by the wind. The others around him did not hear it since it was just something only Kazuha could pick up. Applying full concentration, he managed to form what he heard, "Get out of my way, please, while I'm asking nicely."

Opening his eyes, he turned to stare at the entrance. As if on cue, the door swung open when you kicked it down, announcing your presence. Some men fainted below your feet.

The others instantly reacted by storming towards your direction to stop your advancement. You stood still in your position, taking a mindful deep breath. One thing you learned from Kazuha is to always remain cold-headed before engaging in a fight.

Kazuha wanted to get out of the restraints to rescue you, but instead, you started dishing out few moves against the men.

When you thought you finished with the remaining numbers, their leader was about to declare his victory, "I got you!" Encircling his arm around your neck in an attempt to strangle you, you huffed and grinned towards Kazuha to signal him you have it under control.

You elbowed his stomach and felt him loosen his grip when he winced. Making enough gap between his arm and your neck, you slipped away and swiftly kicked in between his groins. The color drained from his face and tumbled to the ground, passing out in pain, "Hmph, this is what happens when you touch a lady without her permission." You brushed away the hair from your face after an arduous fight.

Jogging towards your boyfriend, "Kazuha!" He brisked towards you as well and held you in his embrace, softly rubbed your nape, "You're giving me plenty of inspirations for a haiku after such a wonderful performance." Kazuha would appreciate you refraining from such a heedless approach next time. He was comforted to see you safe and knowing the threats were nothing more than to use you, his weakness, against him. After witnessing that, Kazuha will be slightly ashamed he even doubted you in the first place, so he trusts that you can watch out for yourself next time.

[cower-before-power]

Penny For Your Thoughts: Part 1

Summary: You’ve been harbouring feelings for your mighty squad captain for months. When you’re forced to share a bed during a mission, will you finally get the courage to tell him how you really feel?

Pairing: William Vangeance x GN Reader

TW: forced bed sharing (if that isn’t your thing)

PART TWO UP NOW HERE

A/N: I originally was writing this for a different fandom but abandoned it, when i found it again I thought why not use it for Black Clover? “There was only one bed” is one of my favourite tropes SO I WROTE IT. There will be part two when I get around to finishing it. Enjoy, sweet potatoes!

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Sleep is dancing far out of your grip tonight. 

It’s not surprising, considering the less than fortuitous circumstances you find yourself in. It’s cold, almost absurdly so, and the curtains are far too thin to obscure the waxy shine of the full moon. Your body is stiff, unable to relax, lest you accidentally touch the softly snoring man beside you. 

He just had to accompany you on this mission. It had to be a double bed. It had to be the only room left. It had to be just your luck. 

Of course, you couldn’t predict the only inn for miles being so crowded.  The staff couldn’t predict your bottled up feelings. He couldn’t possibly predict how tortuous it would be for you when he said sharing the room would be fine.  He was smart, perceptive- but you’d shrouded yourself painstakingly, and he’d never seen past the protective haze. 

You were always good at hiding. 

You roll slowly onto your side, eyes falling on his relaxed form as he slumbers peacefully beside you. The moonlight throws every feature of his face into sharp relief, and the beauty of him hits you like a punch to the gut. 

Did angels ever find their way down to earth? Because you were pretty sure you were laying beside one. Even with the scar covering half his face, he was pure art come to life.  Something so breathtaking it just couldn’t be of this world. 

And it wasn’t just his looks. His insides-heart, soul, mind- were just as dazzling. He wasn’t perfect of course (you still sometimes found it hard to believe he a actually a certified criminal), but he was atoning for his sins and he never stopped trying to be more, be better. He was kind, supportive, gentle, humble. 

He was everything you wanted.

You hadn’t had much of a relationship with him when you first joined his squad, but then again, he was mostly someone else back then. In the months since the elves left, he had opened himself up to his Knights a great deal more. He stopped wearing his mask around the base, started up random conversations with those below him, attempted to get to know you and your squadmates more personally. And to your surprise, the two of you got along very well.

Before you knew it, the two of you had struck up what could be called a friendship. You often would walk in the garden, talking about everything and nothing all at once.  He was more human when he was just William, not Patri in disguise or the stoic Captain Vangeance. He was surprisingly easy to talk to, something about his calm aura that allowed you to be more candid with him then you were with anyone else. He listened to your worries, your fears, you problems. He laughed with delight at your stories of childhood antics. He offered advice when you asked. He even shared bits of himself, little by little peeling back the layers until you could see the wonderful soul shining underneath. 

He had captured your heart without even knowing it. It was pain to stand beside him and not spill the truth, but some piece of him was better than nothing at all. If you weren’t so scared of losing him, of having him go back to just being your aloof Captain, you’d tell him how you felt. 

But fear was an iron cage, and you couldn’t escape it. 

“You should be sleeping.”

You gasp, nearly jumping out of your skin. He cracks one eye open, his lips tugging softly up into a sleepy smile. 

“I thought you were asleep!” You place a hand on your chest, trying to calm your racing heart. 

“I was,” he rolls on his side to face you. “But then the incredibly loud sound of you thinking woke me up.”

You blush furiously. If only he knew what you had been thinking of. “I’m sorry. I....just can’t sleep. It’s too bright and cold in here.” And I’m in love with you and sharing a bed is proving too much, your brain adds. 

He hums, squinting his eyes at the offending lunar orb outside the window. “Well, I can’t do anything about the moon. But...I can help with the cold? If that’s okay.”

There’s a faint blush on his cheeks, and you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe. What he’s suggesting is wildly inappropriate. He is your captain, your superior. Surely warming up another is a duty saved for a life or death situation. And a  prolonged time so close to him might prove too painful once it was time to pull away. 

But you’re a glutton for punishment, and so you find yourself nodding at his offer. 

He pulls you to him gently, arms wrapping around you as you come to rest against him. Your legs automatically slot with his, his chin settling comfortably on the top of your head. His skin is warm, so impossibly warm, and you can’t help but burrow closer, eyes closed and heart pounding. 

It’s heaven and hell all at once. 

“Better?” He asks softly, and you simply nod, not trusting your voice to work. You lay in silence for a while, nothing but the sound of quiet breathing between you. His heartbeat thumps steadily beneath your ear. It’s a lovely sound, so full of vitality and a glorious reminder that he is alive. He’s alive and he’s here with you, and in the end, no matter how much it stings, that is really what matters. 

“You’re still thinking very loudly,” he breaks the silence, and you feel the words reverberate through his chest. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You shake your head. “It’s nothing. Not worth even a penny.”

“Don’t say that,” he says, and you can practically hear him frowning. “I value every single thought that comes out of your head. If something is bothering you, I’m here.”

How can you tell him? Tell him he’s the one making your thoughts so noisy, that he’s the reason you can’t sleep? It’s been eating at you so long, dying to break free, but you just....

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “You might not like what’s in my head.”

“Hey, look at me,” his voice is gentle but firm, and you pull away from his chest to meet his eyes. “You know you can always come to me with any problem, any thoughts, any thing that’s eating at you. I’ll always be here with an ear to listen and a shoulder to rest against, no matter what it is. You’re important to me.”

The sentiment sets butterflies fluttering in your chest, but you know he doesn’t mean it the way you want him to.  

“I know,” you drop your gaze away from his, unable to look any longer into the kind depths that are resting upon you. “I know. I mean, we are friends right? That’s what friends do.” The words choke you, constrict your throat and burn like yesterday’s stale cigarette smoke 

“Yes, we are friends,” he echoes, and a thick silence comes to rest over the room. It feels heavy, dense; an enormous pressure bearing down upon you. You suddenly feel like the room is closing in around you, everything feels hot and prickly and uncomfortable. There’s a volcano in your chest and it’s never been so near eruption. Everything you’ve ever wanted to say, every word you’ve ever wanted his ears to hear, is threatening burst from your mouth like a river finally free of the dam. 

Maybe it’s his closeness. Maybe it’s the way he looks in the wane moonlight. Maybe it’s the barely perceptible tremor in his voice as he spoke the word “friends”. But you’ve never been so close to bursting.

“I don’t want to be your friend,” it slips out before you can stop it, and you bite your tongue so hard it bleeds. 

“What?” He stiffens against you.

Your tongue tears itself away from your teeth. Everything is bubbling up so fast, your will to keep your heart in darkness is fracturing and you scramble to patch up the leaks. 

“I don’t-I mean- I,” you babble, pushing yourself away from him. It’s the wrong move- the look of confused hurt painted across his face crushes everything to dust and the spring finally bursts forth.

“I don’t want to be your friend, I want to be more!” you cry out, the weight of what you are doing hitting you square in the chest. “I want more and I can’t have it and it hurts, it hurts so bad but it would hurt worse to give you up. That’s what I was thinking earlier, thoughts not worth even a penny because they are stupid, useless, hopeless. Tonight has been one of the worst nights of my life, being so close to you but feeling like you are a million miles away.”

You’re sitting up beside him now, the space between you feeling like a vast ocean. His mouth hangs open slightly, violet eyes wide with shock as you continue your rant. 

“I know these feelings are inappropriate. I shouldn’t be thinking of my Captain this way. But I can’t help it. I wasn’t even thinking about love and then you-the real you, this you-stepped in front of me and just...just....just reached out and took it. You took my heart for your own and you didn’t even know it. I....I’m in love with you and it’s tearing me apart that you don’t feel the same!”

You finish, chest heaving, breath puffing like you have just run a race. You can’t even bear to look at him. Those soft violet eyes, the idea that they may be filled with pity and reproach at your words makes you sick to your stomach. You sit with your head hung, waiting for him to break your heart even further.

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Stay tuned for Part 2!

[suspiciouslypinkrosegarden]

Pairing: Suit Saeran x Non Gendered Reader

Description: A little fic based on that gorgeous Suit birthday title screen CG we got this year. Go on, put on that dazzling outfit. There is one problem here with Suit’s plan though…you don’t know ballet to perform for him. Guess you’ll just have to dance together </3

Little note for readers who don’t identify as female: On stage, EVERYONE wears makeup (lipstick, eyebrows, all of it) in order to emphasize features for the audience to see. And costumes are also very important, including ones with glitter! Suity here doesn’t discriminate, everything here is following performing arts rules. Feel free to think of the costume in any way you like as it isn’t referred to as a dress! It’s anything! Local theater kid here isn’t a lier promise.

I wrote this pretty much exactly after the CG was revealed :3 so it’s older

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“Perfect...what a well behaved doll~”

Saeran crossed his arms in front of him, showing you his signature smirk in a smug look of victory. He studied you, traveling down from your face to the outfit you so graciously modeled for him, admiring the way it hugged your waist and fell with such a poof at the bottom, black feathers adorning the soft silky material. He coughed upon noting the exposed bit of skin the outfit left in your chest area, and he made it painfully obvious that where his glance landed up was the cause of the tiny loss of composure.

You couldn’t help but feel rather flustered under his gaze, relief washing over you as his eyes finally met yours again.

“So...it took it being a special day for you to finally listen to me? Well? Did you enjoy the show at least, toy? Wasn’t it cute? The little dolly made of my little doll finally doing what you’re supposed to do. Entertaining me! That is your purpose! And today…,” he huffed through his nose with laughter. “You’re finally going to do that properly! That wasn’t just any old puppet show...but a demonstration of how today is going to go. You’re going to dance for me as I sit back and enjoy my cake in front of you...and if the performance is good enough, you can have a bite. Aren’t I generous today?”

He snickered as you tried your hardest not to sigh tiredly, not necessarily completely annoyed by him but…needless to say this wasn't something you’d have planned. There was a short pause as he tapped his foot a few times impatiently. Clearly you weren’t getting his message.

“So then, toy? Dance for me! And dance for this sugary treat~”, he cackled, sliding the small plate in your direction before pulling it back, taunting you much like a toddler. Perhaps waving a reward in front of your face would light a fire under you.

It was moments like these where you found yourself wondering what good you initially thought you’d get from blindly following a complete stranger to a hidden location in the mountains. Truth be told, today you were mainly humoring his whims because of the sheer amount of detail and effort he put into this charade, and because you were curious to try on that exquisite costume. Birthday boy or not...this couldn’t become a regular thing of his.

“Oh..oh oh oh and one more thing.”

Saeran rather excitedly crouched down for the blue present box underneath the table, easily popping its lid off and pulling out the final piece of your outfit; the same feathers and golden crown worn by your doll.

“Aren’t you excited? You get to be royalty for the day...my prince(ss)..my birthday present to play with! Why else did you think I’d instruct you to wear your hair like that before I came?”

Sending someone in to do your hair for you that evening and pamper you was the proper explanation for what actually went on. It wasn’t like it would be an easy feat to add such a lovely jeweled hair piece to your do alone. The timid believer who assisted you even brought you a perfume sent by him...so you, according to the note attached, “wouldn’t smell so awful”. On the bright side, you really did feel dazzling, the pearls in your hair matching the ones on your new attire.

“Well...come closer so I can put it on you. I won’t bite...as long as you listen,” he teased, bringing himself forward to close up more of the gap between you two.

You bowed your head slightly in response as he fiddled with how the headpiece sat, occasionally feeling his hands smooth down and readjust little parts of your hair. Once he was confident the job was done, he took a step back to admire his work of art. He seemed proud of his accomplishments; his ability to get you to play dress up for him and how the puppet show went so perfectly after so much practice...and now was the time for his hard work to pay off. He expected you to make every bit his birthday fantasy come true, which was evident in everything from his expressions to body language. But there was a problem. You didn’t know ballet.

Saeran took his birthday hat and placed it upon his head grumpily before plopping in the seat you once previously enjoyed his performance in. He sat with a slouch, bringing his plate of cake to him, noming down on a small bite before speaking again with his mouth a bit full.

“Come on, toy! I’m waiting now that you’re all ready!”

He tapped his foot impatiently again.

You decided to address your concerns slowly.

“Uhm...Saeran..? The dance you made the puppet do was ballet…”

“Yes, aren’t you clever? So do some ballet for me.”

“That’s the thing...I haven’t done ballet since I was practically a baby. I’m not sure how to...and you’d have to turn on the music-”

Rational thinking interrupted your nervous attempt to reason a proper way to do this. “And hey...why am I dancing for you anyways?”

He tilted his head, raising a brow in disapproval.

“Because I say so, and because you value your life and your stomach. Remember? I can toss you out at any time,” he puffed, “and this cake will save you from your misery of having an empty belly. You will work for your food and convince me you deserve it!”

“...Ok..? But again...I don’t know how to do ballet anymore-”

Saeran cut you off with the sharp screeching of his chair’s legs dragging backwards against the ground, standing swiftly.

“Did I ask for excuses..? Hahaha...most people would be more pleasant on their birthdays..”, he stepped towards you. “...Is that what you’re expecting from me? Hmm? To be all sweet and sappy because it’s my big day? Extra nice to you? I still won’t tolerate disobedience...in fact, I have less patience today!”

He finished his march to you until he could make certain his dominance was well established through a face-to-face threatening scowl, towering over you best he could. He cupped your chin, tilting it up so you were forced to meet him in all his fury.

“You’re going to dance today. You’re going to dance today because I ordered you to do so, little airhead. Even if I have to force you!”

Releasing his hold on your face, he then grasped your left hand, intertwining your fingers, giving you a good yank forward into him. He caught you on his chest as you gasped in slight shock, the feeling of his hand making its way to the side of your waist; the unexpected cold touch making you shiver as you felt it through the fabric of your outfit.

There was an awkward pause as the two of you stood together in silence for a moment, Saeran just watching you with bated breath. The quiet was eating at you, feeling your heart clamoring against your ribs as you waited for him to initiate something. Your stare drifted down to his chain which sat within your outfit’s front feathers before moving back up. It was cute that he’d pick out a gold one for his birthday. You piped up as you heard him finally swallow saliva.

“We uh...need music..if you want to dance together. I think this is a good solution, actually.”

You gave him a smile, the same gentle look he’d cursed dozens of times before for making him feel so gross in the stomach. He kept quiet this time, but your expression made him feel no different than usual, if not more so.

“I knew that. Obviously we can’t dance to nothing. Tch, don’t get smart with me…”

Sure he knew that.

He let go of your hand to reach out and press play on the little radio he’d tucked away behind the little stage, contorting himself to stay close to you before returning to your old ready to dance position. He pulled you to the right with a shuffle together away from the set to a clear space in the room, closer to the window, the glow of the soft moonlight catching on the intricate glittery details of your costume.

Saeran stared for a mere moment, stiff as a statue as you placed your free hand on his shoulder. You could tell from the shifting of his eyes he was trying his best not to gawk now that he was getting a solid look at you up against him, clearing his throat with an “akhem” to collect himself. He’d never admit the tips of his ears felt hot to the touch.

Finally, with your prompting, the inviting melody which drifted through the room allowed the two of you to begin swaying together; Saeran watching your feet to understand the 1-2-3 step movements you did. He got the hang of it pretty quickly, grinning confidently as he took more lead and a firmer hold on your waist. It was a simple dance, rocking a tad and moving in a circle, the expression you showed him sweet and caring as he peered into your reflective (e/c) pools, (and perhaps it was flustered and nervous too). He, on the other hand, wouldn’t allow his mask of cocky satisfaction to be taken off so easily, despite the rosy hue his pale cheeks took on.

“My my...such a warbled little smile I’m receiving from you~ are you enjoying this, doll? Don’t lie, I can see just how red you are..pfft- is dancing with your prince something you’ve day dreamed about before? You and your delusions-”

You decided to outright call him out. He can’t just tease you like this when he came up with this whole plan in the first place, now can he?

“Says the one who made a detailed puppet set of the building we’re in. And two dolls of us. And got me a costume. And got me ballet shoes, which my whole outfit matches the doll’s exactly, by the way. And you even put on a whole show, plus made me do my hair the way you like...who’s day dream are we actually living out? Oh and don’t forget...you’re the one who took my hand to dance too~”.

You winked at him, eliciting a low growl which rumbled in his throat. His face grew redder, perhaps with rage.

“Hey...I never said I didn’t like it. The detail is incredible, and I’m being honest. I’m not sure how much work you put into it all...but I can tell it was a lot. You, sir, have a hidden talent. I’d like to see what else you can do with more free time for yourself….”

He sneered, “I’m not going to keep humoring you with more stuff like this, if that’s what you’re implying. Maybe with more free time, I’ll only find myself coming up with new ways to make you bend and break! But, I will take your compliment as you can at least appreciate this all as a work of my geniusness. I’m a busy busy man, but I found free time to set up a playdate with my toy. So stop pushing my buttons! You should feel lucky I graced you with my presence! It’s my birthday...and I’m stuck looking at your stupid face!”

“Hmm...again, with all that planning I think someone wanted to see ‘my stupid face’. And I do feel lucky, because I get to spend your birthday with you, although I wish I could have organized something myself. And what I meant was...Saeran this is a work of art. The dolls look hand crafted and painted, including the outfits which must’ve been sown for today in order to match perfectly. I also noticed the pearls on my costume match the ones on your birthday hat. And the set...some of the paint even appears as if its liquid leaf...which it might not be but still. Once we’re finished dancing, I want to go and admire your efforts. Especially the cute little replica of yourself you made~!”

Saeran sputtered angrily.

“You….are certainly an A grade weirdo. Don’t you hate this, even a little? Isn’t it sucky for you? Having to be my puppet today!”

“I’m no one’s puppet. I’m enjoying myself because I get to dress up, dance with you, and learn about a new skill of yours.”

He stopped your swaying with a halt, and you could feel his once icy hand in yours growing hotter by the second. His grip tightened as if to warn you he might hurt you with a squeeze, but within a second, it softened, and he let go momentarily to run it through his poofy locks. He grumbled.

“I don’t know why I even bother with an airhead like yourself. You didn’t even use the stamps I left so clearly out in front of you.”

You grinned at the opportunity suddenly presented to you. You hadn’t given him a birthday gift yet, and here was the chance to give him something small, but memorable.

“Hey Saeran...do you like the shade of lipstick I’m wearing today? It’s kind of purpleish..you know, a combination of red and blue. Like your stamps if the ink is mixed.”

He gulped, furrowing his brows.

“What are you getting at? I don’t care about your silly stage makeup I instructed the believer to do...”

You faked a sigh, “Sorry, sorry. I’ll make sure to get on that last bit right now about the stamps, since we’re no longer dancing.”

Without hesitation, you took him by the open sides of his striking suit jacket, pulling him to you to turn and plant a quick but firm kiss on his cheek. You then let him go, drinking in his wide eyed blushy appearance, raising his hand to touch the prominent lipstick mark you left on him. He wiped the area as if to show he didn’t like it, only to look down at the swipe of purple on his fingertips.

“See there? A stamp! And there’s more where that came from~”

[masterthespianduchovny]

Some people gon be mad at me, but I gotta say it...

Some Scully fans don't understand Scully or her relationship/feelings with/for Mulder.

Scully's relationship with Mulder is this utterly pure thing that is grounded by how much she genuinely cares, respects, and supports him as a person. When you understand Scully's perception of Mulder in this view, seeing her as some long suffering woman doesn't make any sense.

Most of the time Scully sacrifices or choosing Mulder isn't based on romantic feelings, it's based in moral and ethical values and what she holds important. The show sets this up early.

In Squeeze, Tom asks "who's side are you on" and Scully says, "the victim."

This coincides with the side Mulder is on.

Tom was obstructing the case due to his on bias and hatred of Mulder. Despite Mulder's pettiness, Scully understands that Mulder will always prioritize the victim. She chose justice (Mulder) over pettiness (Tom).

When Scully declines a second date with the single father, she's choosing knowledge and curiosity over romance and her personal life.

Interestingly enough, Mulder never asked her to choose him. He's always asked her to be honest about the truth, but he never put her in that situation to prioritize him over her own professional goals or personal life. In fact, he would've understood if she did and said as much.

So when I say some Scully fans don't understand Scully, I'm not being insulting or intentionally rude, I'm saying they're overlooking small character moments that inform her characterization throughout the series.

Scully was not only a workaholic, she LOVED her work. And there wasn't just an obligation to Mulder, it was to the victims as well. I often think about how in this universe, if Mulder and Scully hadn't investigated these cases, either no one would've or it would've never been solved. It must've been something Scully also thought about as well.

Scully mentioned a few times that she joined the FBI to make a difference. Not for prestige or make a name for herself, but to make a difference. She didn't throw away her career for Mulder, she was exactly where she wanted to be. Those other cases handled by mainstream agents were always going to be investigated and solved (if possible), but x file cases?

There's a reason Mulder was called from bumfuck, Kansas or backwoods, West Virginia. There was no one else. Her and Mulder were the only two who took these things seriously.

But also, Scully genuinely genuinely cared for Mulder. Not because she wanted to fuck him, thought he was hot, or really wanted to date him. She enjoyed him as a person. Like truly. After working with him, understanding this beliefs, and meeting many victims, the x files became her passion project too. She attached herself to Mulder because there was no one alive she respected more than him. Someone who stood by their convictions regardless of what others thought to the betterment of people besides him.

He had his flaws, but the great parts of Mulder truly outshined the worst parts of him.

People often overlook how much the x files and her experience changed Scully. The deadpan, straight to the point Scully we know and love came to fruition in season 5. Believe me, I checked. Remember, Scully used to be goofy, open, and free. Then she was abducted, given cancer, kidnapped, sister killed over mistaken identity, etc. That changes a person.

But none of this is Mulder's fault. Mulder changed her in the best way possible. He opened her mind up and challenged her--it was intellectual. Those other things I mentioned made Scully pull within herself and close off. It made her guarded. So suffered so much emotional and mental and literal physical trauma.

As a result, her social interactions changed.

As a reminder, she became a workaholic because of her passion for the x files and she enjoyed it. Then to add on to that, her work was wild as hell, hard to explain, and some of it classified. Scully lived such a unique experience that regularly interacting with others would've been frustrating, exhausting, and her having a sense of feeling misunderstood. And dating would've been a minefield.

Thing is: Scully didn't mind this change to her life. This isn't to say that Scully didn't want or have any friends, it's to say that she didn't strive to have a booming social life nor did she care. Again, she VOLUNTARILY became a workaholic and threw away a normal life for paranormal shit. Someone who does that isn't trying to meet friends for happy hour on Friday or planning to have serious relationships any time soon.

Not only that, some people live lives like this right now and have incredibly fulfilling lives. Some people just work and have one or two friends and they're living their best lives. The idea that just because Scully doesn't have an active dating life and a circle of friends she regularly talks to means that her life is dour is so flawed.

Scully's eventual dissatisfaction with her life was rooted in her believing she should want things that she didn't want. Scully could've walked away. She could've said enough, instead she kept finding reasons to stay because she wanted to be on the x files. And it's quite clear that you can't work on the x files and have a normal life. She didn't want both, she wanted the life that she chose.

At that time, Scully was unable to articulate just how much she wanted to be with Mulder, which is why she positions, "Don't you want to get out of the car?"

She wanted moments of normalcy with him.

And it isn't just because Mulder gets that life because he lives it, its because Scully is actually in love with Mulder for who he is. She's seen Mulder at his best and at his worst and loves every part of him.

Whatever feelings Scully had for Mulder in the past that she pushed away, she couldn't do it anymore. She loved Mulder in a way she couldn't put into words. It was the truest feeling she ever felt, the most sincere thing and she hadn't realized it yet. Then, when she does, it takes them time to get there because Mulder is literally the most important person in her life.

Which seeds were planted back in season 2. In "Little Green Men" (I think), the thought of not working with Mulder saddened Scully because it meant she wouldn't get to see and talk to him. Mulder made a huge impression on her and became important to her very quickly.

So imagine 5-7 years down the road...embracing this feeling and the thought of losing Mulder if things went south would've been devastating for Scully. She wouldn't lose just a partner, she'd lose a best friend too.

Because she genuinely cared for him and he's her literal best friend.

The love Scully feels for Mulder surpasses known definitions of romantic love because her feelings aren't centered in that. She loves him on levels that most people can't imagine. Scully cares for Mulder so much and she shows that by listening to him and protecting him even if Mulder doesn't think he needs protection. She validates him and doesn't trivialize his beliefs even when she doesn't agree with them. It doesn't matter who the person is, Scully will always go to bat for Mulder because he only ever had himself and he needs to someone to say "hey, you're not alone and you're taken seriously."

I bring this up to say, the idea that Mulder doesn't deserve Scully when Scully clearly wants him is flawed. The idea that Mulder should be lucky that Scully "puts up" with him is flawed. The idea that Scully would ever tell Mulder as such or anything resembling (and stressing how she could've been happy with this perfect other man) is flawed. Those first two things are categorically wrong and the last is something Scully would never do because she loves Mulder and that is harmful. Scully would never tell Mulder something that would harm him or that she believed could.

All Things is so pivotal because Scully stops concerning herself with what she believe she should want and embracing what she actually wants: investigating x files and living an unconventional life with Mulder.

Scully wants that.

Not dating around, girls night, or frequent intimate get togethers with her family. She wants to investigate haunted houses on Christmas Eve and discover invisible bodies and help victims find justice.

After her and Mulder get together, she's committed to him. She waited so long to be with him that even while he was in hiding, she never considered dating anyone else. Emotionally and spiritually, she'd been married to him. Now that they'd been together, she didn't want anyone else but him.

Like there's so many layers to this, which hasn't even taken the "like a switch" speech. Or her reaction to Diana, which had multiple levels--romantic, platonic, and professional.

Lastly, the idea that Scully was waiting around for Mulder (to ask her out) is such a basic take. Scully wasn't waiting on Mulder, she prioritized their working relationship over romance AND she knew Mulder had his own stuff going on with himself. Even if she had wanted to date then, she didn't fault Mulder for not asking her out. All the shit he'd been through and was going through, Scully was more concerned about his emotional well-being opposed to upset that he hadn't pursued her.

Although I do get the criticism and the desire for Scully to date, have on screen friends, and shit, it just doesn't track with what we've seen and know of Scully.

Like, this woman almost went on the run with Mulder after knowing him for 2-3 years. They only reason they didn't was because she wanted to see her sister who'd been shot. The reason she almost went on the run was due to moral and ethical reasons and not romance, however, my point is that Scully's convictions and priorities is why her life was the way it was and that's the way she wanted it to be. She then went on the run with him when she didn't have to, but we know she would because 1. his sentence was an injustice (we know how Scully feels about justice) 2. she was madly in love with him and refused to continue living her life without him.

Once again, Scully is discarding any notion of normalcy because she didn't want it and hadn't wanted it since getting assigned to the x files.

And that's on that.

(And it's why I object to the characterization of their relationship in IWTB and seasons 10 and 11. Although it's fine and makes sense for their relationship to have issues at times, the writers handled it so cavalierly and without thought. You cannot have the backbone of the show in a romantic falling out and not address it--not really. They don't try to genuinely deal with such a situation because it's melodrama, but my question is: why introduce it in the first place. If it isn't worth being addressed, it's not worth being introduced. Mulder and Scully had a chat or two, but it was so superficial and lacked teeth. It's not that I wanted the show to focus on them romantically, I just want the show to not bullshit or half ass shit they're introducing and bringing up is all.)

[teamhappyme]

a series of promising events (2/5)

aaron hotchner x female!reader

word count: 10.6k (yeah i have a spacing problem)

a/n: part 2 of this series is here! some dialogue, cases, and themes taken directly from criminal minds (S03 EP20, S04 EP01, & S05 EP08). originally, i had it planned to be 3 parts, but after editing, and looking at the word count, it makes more sense to be 5 parts. i don’t want to inundate you lovely people with massive word counts (even though 10k is massive) so this is the finalized count. because i finally got my shit together and finished this out, part 3 will be up wednesday morning, part 4 will be up friday morning, and the final part 5 will be up sunday morning. thank you to everyone who showed some love for part one, and thank you to anyone else who stumbled across my crazy writing and read along!

at the end, I’ve tagged the peeps that interacted with part 1. if you don’t want to be tagged for the other parts, just let me know :)

ok enough of my rambling inner monologue, here we go friends!

link to part 1: here

****

May 2008

We were in New York, investigating what started out as five connected shootings in the city. After twelve hours, we were up to nine fatalities.

We delivered the profile at nine thirty, finally satisfied with the outcome after a day's worth of combing over crime scene photos and witness statements. Hotch didn’t want to waste another second, making sure the profile went out before the night shift went out to patrol.

“Now, our first theory is that we’re dealing with a team.” Derek started. “In the case of the D.C. snipers, there was actually one intended victim.”

“John Muhammad wanted to kill his ex wife, but he knew if he did, he’d be the prime suspect, so he created a spree in order to mask his primary motivation.” 

Spencer added before turning to SSA Joyner. “Muhammad and Malvo also left a death card at one of their scenes, just like this unsub.”

“We believe our unsubs have studied that case. They’re opening a line of communication.” 

There was an outpouring of judgement focused on us, since we were in charge of the D.C. snipers case as well. These unsubs know we’re here, and they’re trying to show they can outthink us.

“Yes, they are playing games. But what that tells us is at least one of them has some intelligence.” You tried to hold your ground, and not let their opinions get to you.

“And like I said,” Prentiss interrupted, ready to put these cops in their place. “They know these cases. He’s also studied the placement of the surveillance systems well enough to avoid detection.”

“We’ve asked officers to canvass their precincts, and look out for a father-son type of duo that fit the dominant-submissive profile.” Rossi had Reid hand out some gang related profiles, just in case the profile shifted. But we were pretty confident in our first go. 

“Talk to the people on your beats, look out for anything suspicious. And let's pray that this isn’t random.” The detective in charge finished and let his precinct disperse. 

“Hey y/n/n, we’re gonna head back in five if you want a spot in the fun suburban.” JJ teased and lightly shoved Spencer’s shoulder. 

You smiled and started packing up your backpack. “Okay. Just, leave the fragile doctor alone.” 

After packing up any files you wanted to review when you got back to the hotel room, you let Morgan and Rossi know the four of you were headed out. They weren’t much further behind with Prentiss and Garcia. 

You met Reid and JJ in the lobby, droopy eyes and mouths full of yawns adorning the three of you. It was a long day, and it was only going to be worse tomorrow. 

“Where’s Hotch?” You asked, ready to get your feet out of these narrow leather dress shoes. You were wearing your combat boots tomorrow. 

“He’s checking in with the lady friend.” JJ nodded her head toward Hotch, who was conversing with Joyner in her office. They were standing close, and you thought you caught a smile on his face. “Do you think they’re into each other?”

“She looks like she could be Haley’s twin,” Spencer added and you sighed. 

The moment the team arrived at HQ this morning, everybody noticed the resemblance to Hotch’s ex-wife. SSA Kate Joyner went pretty far back with our unit chief. They went through the academy together and had some assignments overlap over the years. If it were up to Morgan and Garcia, the two of them would be out on a date right now. But you and Rossi quickly quieted the rumors, not wanting to deal with the rage that was Aaron Hotchner if he knew we were discussing his love life. 

It had barely been six months since Haley left with Jack, and Hotch had just taken off his wedding band a few weeks ago. He didn’t tell any of you until you all witnessed him getting served in the office. It slapped you across the face, especially since you’d just met Haley and Jack for a quick lunch a month and a half before. I guess she wanted Hotch to tell you when he was ready. 

As much as you valued your three year friendship with Aaron Hotchner, you knew Haley deserved better. Hotch adored his wife and son, and would fight heaven and earth to keep them safe. Unfortunately, he was too busy fighting the demons from hell to be a present father and husband. Everyone had their breaking point, and Haley had hit hers. From what Hotch has told you, they’re still amicable, and are trying to be friends again. After all, it wasn’t a lack of love that ended their marriage. It was a lack of prioritizing his family. 

“Knock it off. He’s on his way over.” The three of you turned to one another, pretending to hold an intriguing conversation about one of Spencer’s magic tricks. Truthfully, you were always intrigued in his magic tricks; you never understood how he could pull endless quarters out of your ear. But that conversation would have to wait for another day. 

“Ready to go?” Hotch pulled the keys out of his pant pocket, and the three of you nodded as Spencer called shotgun. A smile crossed your lips, never getting over the jovial things Spencer loved to claim when his intellect wasn’t needed to solve a case.

The fifteen minute ride to the hotel downtown was silent. You were all exhausted, emotionally and physically, sick of having to watch people die over and over again. 

The four of you made it into the lobby, tomorrow morning’s papers already spread across the table. “The late edition didn’t miss a beat.” You said and picked up one of the papers, the headline reading ‘Execution Style’ with a still from one of the murders. You showed it to Hotch and he shook his head. 

“I’m glad I never stooped to this level when I was publishing.” You murmured, reading the first paragraph of the article. 

“JJ,” Spencer started and pointed across the lobby, causing all of us to turn. It was Detective Will LaMontagne Jr., JJ’s adorably chivalrous Louisiana boyfriend. 

“Will.” You could practically hear the smile on her face as she led the walk over to him.

He was supposed to fly into D.C. to visit JJ for the weekend, but came to surprise her in New York when he heard the news. Spencer and I shared a look as Hotch extended a hand to him. 

“Detective.”

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, I know you’re working. But, um. I can’t stand you being on this case. And me not being here, not with what’s going on.”

JJ shook her head in the slightest, and you started to get nervous.

“Is there a problem?” Hotch asked, concern completely taking over his voice at the thought of any harm happening to his team. The couple shared a knowing look, and your patience was starting to run thin with the information being withheld. JJ meant the world to you, and you wanted to make sure she was okay.

Reluctantly, she turned to face you all, a shy smile covering her face. “I’m pregnant.” 

Spencer looked over at you, not knowing how to react to the news. But you couldn’t help the smile widening on your face. 

“Oh my god, JJ! Congratulations!” You wrapped your arms around her and she laughed, most likely out of relief. This was a secret she kept for a long time.

“I’ve asked JJ to marry me,” 

“Will.” She cut him off as Hotch gave him a congratulatory handshake. 

“We’re working out some kinks.” He added as Spencer was next to hug your blonde friend. A baby, in the BAU. You might have been more excited than JJ.

“We’ll, uh, give you both some privacy.” Hotch started towards the elevator, and JJ was quick to follow. 

“Hotch,” She didn’t continue, you knew this wasn’t the exact situation she wanted to tell everyone she was having a baby. 

“JJ, you could have told me.”  

The tenderness in his voice could have broken your heart in two right then and there, but add on the fact that you swore you could see Hotch’s eyes tear in the slightest, you were done. You didn’t want to mention it in front of Reid, but you knew this had to do with Haley. You’d be an idiot not to notice.

The three of you filed into the elevator, leaving JJ and Will to talk in private. You all got off on the fourth floor, Reid’s room the first to come up in the hallway. 

“Night Spencer.” 

“Goodnight. Seven a.m.,” He reminded you as he opened the door with his keycard.

You and Hotch walked down another ten feet before he found his room. 

“Goodnight,” He mumbled out and reached for his key. 

“Hotch,” He closed his eyes, nodding his head in the slightest. 

“I’m tired, y/n.” You could’ve pushed harder. You could have gotten him to crack if you started nagging enough. You’d earned the title as baby sister from the team since you could whine and nag them into doing anything. But tonight didn’t seem like a good time for your skills. 

You nodded, understanding this conversation wasn’t going to happen. 

“Goodnight. Get some sleep.”

Despite your best efforts, you didn’t sleep a wink. Hotch had gone over his files and called for Kate to meet him in the lobby. But then there was an explosion, and you had to watch from your window as Hotch sat by Joyner, waiting for her to die.

Once the team had caught the second unsub and wrapped everything up at the precinct, you headed to the hospital to check on Hotch. And unsurprisingly, he was refusing any further treatment for the ringing in his ears he tried to deny. You saw him kick Rossi out of the room, the third member that couldn’t get through to him. 

“Bobo, why don’t you give it a try. Can’t yell at the baby with a broken arm.” You were the one to tackle the unsub, and landed pretty hard on the pavement downtown. Nothing a black cast covered in smiley faces from Spencer and Garcia couldn’t fix. 

“I know you can’t tell, but I’m flipping you off right now.” You responded to Morgan as you raised your casted hand toward him.

You headed to Hotch’s room, knocking on the window before you walked in. 

“I swear to god if you try to put me in another MRI,” He started to raise his voice when you interrupted him.

“Shit, I should go tell Morgan he was wrong. Boss is willing to yell at the baby with a broken arm.”

He turned around to face you, the lines on his forehead disappearing once he saw it was you and not Rossi. 

“What happened to your arm?” You smiled and glanced down at the cast. “Just another day on the job. Tackled the unsub, the pavement was not very kind to me.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to put his tie back around his neck. You scoffed, stepping over to him. 

“Why the hell would you want to put that back on?” 

“Because it’s part of my suit.” 

You knew better than to pull it out of his hands. He was holding on to any semblance of control, and his outfit was all that he had left. Instead you took a seat in the stiff chair across from him, watching as he grimaced every time he lifted his arms too high. 

“If your goal is to get me to stay another minute here under observation, you’re not gonna win.” 

You shook your head. “That’s not my goal.”

He sighed, giving up on putting his tie on. He moved to finish his top button, he was at least going to be covered. 

“You should be excited for JJ.” You started, testing the water on this subject. 

“Did I suggest otherwise?” He asked and you shook your head. 

“When was the last time you saw Jack?” His eyes widened the slightest, and you regretted asking the question. You gripped the arms of the chair, ready to be ripped a new one. 

Instead, Hotch let out a sigh, and you snapped your head up. “Two weeks. Haley went to visit her mother for a week, and then we went from Florida to New York in three days.”

He was already away from Jack half the week when they were still living under the same roof. Now he was lucky if he got to say goodnight on a weekend. 

“Why don’t you take some time off? I’m sure you have weeks saved up. I’ve been here three years and have never seen a tan on you.” 

He shook his head. “Strauss would never approve of it.”

“Hotch,” 

“Y/n, I really want to get out of this hospital room and call my son.” You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Fine. But you’re not flying home. You have a choice between Morgan and Rossi to drive you home. My recommendation would be Morgan, you don’t want to sit through four hours of Opera music.” 

You stood up, refusing to meet his eye. You were sick of dealing with stubborn men. 

“I’ll see if they can fax your records to D.C. before we leave.” 

He muttered out a thank you as you left the room, shaking your head at the rest of the team.

“Nothing?” Morgan asked as you returned to them. 

“Nothing. Even the baby gets yelled at.” Spencer spared you a glance and you gave him a small smile. You would be fine. “And Derek, you’re driving him back.”

***

January 2010

You didn’t think it could get worse than seeing Hotch with nine stab wounds at the hands of Foyet. You desperately wanted to believe that it couldn’t be worse than that. But you were naive to think that he would let Aaron survive and not make him suffer.

None of you would be able to erase the image of Haley’s bloody body lying in the home where she and Aaron created their family. You wouldn’t forget the sight of Hotch beating into Foyet’s face, or the sobs that raked through his body once Derek had shaken him off. This was a tragedy that shaped the entire team.

After Haley’s death, the seven of you took turns checking in on Hotch, Jack, and Haley’s sister Jessica. She stayed close by when Hotch was on leave, helping him with Jack’s routine, and how to explain to the four year old where his mommy went. She moved back into her apartment a few blocks away before Aaron returned to work. He wanted to prove to her that he could do this on his own, that he could be the strong father that Jack deserved, and that Haley would be proud of.

While the three of them were together, the team would try and make it over every Saturday for dinner. Hotch needed to be around friends, and Jessica needed a guilt free night to spend with the people that made her feel good. He was reluctant at first, not wanting us over the apartment, complaining that it was a mess, and it was too small to fit everyone. But it was impeccably neat, the result of a widow not being able to sleep. Once he became comfortable with us coming around on Saturday’s, we’d pick two weeknights to stop by with a dinner, movie, or game to help take their minds off of the pain. Although you and JJ stopped by every friday regardless of whose week it was, Hotch really appreciated the extra company, and so did Jack.

Despite his attempts at being independent, there were one too many distressed calls being made to you or JJ if he couldn’t get a hold of Jess, or if he didn’t want to burden her with the responsibility. 

Your feelings about Jack Hotchner hadn’t changed in the four years since you met him. You would still do anything to see the adorable little boy smile. So, it was easy to say that you didn’t mind the late night phone calls worrying about Jack’s stuffy nose or when he should take the chicken out of the freezer without it going bad. Because the more he reached out to any one of you, the closer he was to finding a new normal. 

However, all of you were surprised to see SSA Aaron Hotchner in his office only a month and a half after the event. Sure, he made remarkable progress, but you all assumed he would take a little more time, maybe take Jack on a well deserved vacation. Instead, you walked into the office on a monday morning, Hotch the first one in attendance. 

That was two weeks ago. 

The readjustment period had worn off, and Hotch was back to being a drill sergeant. Even more aggressive than he was before. 

The case we were working was local, saving us the discomfort of sleeping in a hotel bed. We were in Virginia, investigating two murdered families, similar to ‘The Fox’.

“Who?” You asked, not familiar with the creepy nickname.

“Four years ago Karl Arnold, aka the fox, killed eight families.” Derek informed you. It must have been just before you started at the BAU. 

“Similar to this case he took the father’s wedding rings, except in his case he took them as trophies.” Spencer finished.

“Hotch, you gave evidence at Arnold’s trial. I think you should go see him.” Derek was acting unit chief since before Haley’s death, and continued his position even with Hotch’s return. Strauss was weary now more than ever to give Aaron the title back so quick.

“I’d like to take l/n with me.” You looked over to Hotch, his eyes resting on yours, waiting for your approval. 

You gave a small nod, placing your sunglasses over your eyes. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Hotch got the keys to a suburban and before you could meet him at the car, Prentiss pulled you back. 

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay with this?” She was always looking out for you, heck she was the one that made you pack extra barf bags for crime scenes. She knew meeting face to face with a family killer would do a number on you. But Hotch can’t face this guy on his own. Not after what happened.

“I’m good. Not the first time I've interrogated a psychopath.” She reluctantly nodded. 

“Okay. Just, let Hotch take the lead.” 

You gave her arm a squeeze. “I will. Let’s find this guy.”

The ride to Red Onion Supermax was a short and quiet one. Hotch filled you in on the particulars of Arnold’s case, making sure you knew it inside and out. This was a team effort after all. 

You couldn’t get a clean read on Hotch, however, on the ride over. He’d yet to crack a true smile or laugh in the weeks he’d been back, which normally wouldn’t be so out of character for him. But Reid had been trying to get him to crack with every magic trick he knew, even agreeing to let Derek joke about his lack of childhood and understanding of pop culture. But nothing worked. 

It worried you to see the regression he’s made since coming back. You knew how happy he was at home with Jack, that a smile crossed his face most of the day when he was playing legos with his son. You hoped he was here because he wanted to be, not because he felt like he had an obligation to the team or the Bureau. 

“Karl has a big ego. He’s going to answer every question with a question. He’ll try to gain the advantage with me by asking why I’m not wearing my wedding ring.” You looked down at his left hand, the gold band that you noticed on your first day, now gone, along with the woman he loved. “And then he will turn his attention to you.”

“So that’s why you brought me along.”

“Your presence will throw him off guard. And he’s going to want to describe to you in graphic detail every sexual act he committed with the families.”

“To freak me out?” Because you haven’t even met this sick bastard and you were certainly already freaked out. 

Hotch met your eye, and you knew this was only going to get worse. “To pull you into his fantasy.”

The guard radioed for the gate to open, and you tried to contain the tremors in your hands. This was a wing of psychotic sexual sadists, they would pick up on your nervous ticks.

You looked to Hotch once the gate opened, and he nodded for you to go in. 

“Go ahead.” You followed the guard in, surprised at the lack of noise you were welcomed with. “Keep your eyes forward. More than anything he’s going to want to see images of the children.”

“We can’t give him that.” You argued, as you started to hear the men from their cells. 

“We have to give him something or we’ll get nothing from him.” 

You’d kept your breathing under control the entire walk down the hallway, until a man crashed against the glass, causing you to flinch and spare a glance.

“Isn’t that, uh,-” 

“Derek Payne.” He finished for you, his eyes still straight ahead. 

“It’s reinforced glass.” You scoffed. Of course he wasn’t worried about another man ripping him apart.

“Easy for you to say, he tore apart fourteen women.”

The door opened to the interrogation room, and this time Hotch entered first. You were met with Karl Arnold, red bushy hair and a beard to match. He was average height, and a little stocky, not what you pictured him to look like.

“Hello Karl,” Hotch greeted him as we settled in on the other side of the table.

“Agent Hotchner,” He stood. “I wasn’t informed you were bringing a, uh,” He glanced at you, looking you up and down before turning back to Hotch. You really regretted wearing a white silk top with your dress pants today. “They just said two agents.”

“This is Agent-” 

“Y/n, l/n.” You tried to control the dilation of your eyes as he looked right through you. “I know all about you.”

Now you understood why Emily asked you if you were sure about this. He kept his eyes on Hotch as he started the interrogation, never looking you in the eyes longer than a second. Even if you directed a question toward him, he would only answer to Hotch. He was a misogynist. You don’t know why you’re so surprised at this discovery, he tortured wives and families.

When he offered up his book of dialogue between him and his fans, he smelled your perfume as you reached across the table to grab it. Hotch quickly took it for you, letting you sit back down in your seat. Your gut was no longer in your stomach, it was lodged in your throat. 

“How’d you lose your ring, Agent Hotchner?” It was beyond your level of profiling to understand how Hotch could just sit there and take the assault on his personal life from a man who ruined families, especially with what he’d just been through. You���d never mastered the art of compartmentalization quite like Hotch. But right now, you were thankful for your uncontrollable emotions.

“I can look past your refusal to answer my question, if you let me see the children. It’s the only way I can truly help you.” You gripped the files harder at the mention of the victims and looked at Hotch. 

“Can I speak with you for a second?” He nodded and the two of you stood. 

“Is there something wrong, y/n?” You bit back the sarcasm that was threatening to fall from your mouth. 

“Nothing’s wrong, Karl.”

You exited the interrogation room, still clutching the files close to your chest. 

“We cannot show him these.”

 He looked at Arnold, who seemed to find your eyes, even through the reflective mirror. “These images will be his undoing and will lead us to the killer.”

“These are not just images.” 

“That’s exactly what they are.” 

“Hotch, I am not about to parade a dead twelve year old girl in a bathing suit in front of a serial killer who gets off on it.” You raised your voice, not willing to compromise any respect you had left for these victims. 

“Then show him the others. It’ll gain his trust and get him talking. He won’t talk to me, he knows I know everything that gets him off. But he’ll want to tell you just what he would do to them. I told you, he wants to pull you in.”

You shook your head. “These are children! Helpless children whose fathers have to live with what this animal did to their families! These strangers do not get to see the torture and humiliation that they went through.”

“If you can’t stomach showing him what he desires, then I’ll do it. Because we’re not leaving until we get a name out of him. You’re either with the team or you’re not.” 

You scoffed. “You’re not the unit chief anymore. I do what Morgan says if we can’t come to an agreement.”

It was bold of you to remind him of his subordinate place. But you were equals now, despite the decade between you two. You didn’t have to listen to his orders if you felt they were wrong. 

He reached for the files, but you turned away from him. “I’m going in there. Not you. But I’m going to run the interrogation my way, not exposing these children. If you have a problem with that, you can call Morgan.”

You motioned for the guard to let you back in. You took your seat across from Karl, a smirk still evident on his face. 

“What, no Agent Hotchner?”

“You know, yours was one of the first cases I studied,” You started, trying to loosen up the muscles in your face. Going against every natural instinct in your body was making it hard to relax. “I’ve been fascinated ever since. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was embarrassed with him in the room.”

“You’re embarrassed because you want to know what I did, don’t you.” You pushed out a smile, a little giggle behind it to entice him.

And of course it did. “Yes.”

“I can show you exactly what I did to them.” 

“Tell me.” You tilted your head to the side, pushing some hair behind your ear. You were fighting the bile rising in your throat with every word you exchanged with him.

“Children are so precious, so clean. But they need guidance, especially the girls.” 

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

“Girls have much more to lose than boys. It’s a fact, the female body can handle pain much better.” If this wasn’t a serial killer across from you, you’d agree with him and make some jokes about the female anatomy. But he was enjoying this, just like Hotch said. He was pulling you in.

“What did you do to them?” 

He smiled. “I showed them, what men, their fathers, and brothers, are capable of.” 

“And what is that?”

“Once I killed the children, It always amazed me how little the father fought the inevitable, the dying.”

“I never thought I would get these answers, let alone from the man himself.” You pushed out another smile, because you knew he was holding back. He was almost willing to trust you, he just needed to be groomed a little more.

“It takes a good woman, to make an honest man. And you’re prettier than Agent Hotchner.” 

He was dancing around the information now, knowing that he had your time and attention. “Karl, do you know why you killed all those families?” 

“I already told you why.”

You dropped the sweet tone, and pushed up on your elbows. “No, you told me how. And your motivations were all driven by sex, motivations you learned from your father.”

You saw him flinch, and you knew you were getting somewhere. 

“You assert your dominance by making the father, the head of the household, watch you torture, assault, and take anything you wanted from the people he’s supposed to protect. Now your admirer, they don’t have the same ambitions as you do. And normally, that would bother a man like you. You want to be adored for every single part of your mess. But like you said, they’re an admirer, not a fan. So I’m guessing it’s a woman, who you’ve really come to care for.”

He tugged on his shackled wrists, you clearly got what you were looking for.

 “Those women, those girls, they needed to be taught a lesson. How to obey who’s in charge. And you,” he laughed as he inched as far across the table as he could. “The things I would do to you if I weren’t nailed to this table. You’d be done before I could call your name.”

Before you could respond, Hotch came into the room, demanding a name. You stood up, no longer needing to play a role. 

“It must be distracting, working with such a beautiful woman everyday.” You didn’t spare him another glance as you heard him mumble out a name to Hotch, finally getting what he wanted: power over you.

“Morgan, we’ve got a name. It’s a female guard in intake. Get everybody here ASAP.” The guard led you and Hotch back down the hallway, through the lion's den, and back to the elevator. Once inside, you let out a breath. Hotch turned to look at you, but you spoke up before he had the chance. 

“Don’t ask me to do that ever again.”

You would’ve yelled at him, tore him to pieces in the elevator ride from the fourth floor to the exit, but there was a guard escorting you out. You didn’t want him to have the privilege of watching two FBI agents battle it out. And honestly, you weren’t sure if you had the heart to yell at him after all he’d been through.

But once you were escorted through the exterior gates, your team in sight, you regained the nerve to give Hotch a piece of your mind.

Not before he spoke first though. 

“You did exactly what needed to be done. I didn’t ask you to act that way toward him, and I’m sorry you feel that that was your only way in. But I’m not going to apologize for getting the name of the killer.”

“So you would have acted in the same degrading way if the roles were reversed?”

He scoffed. “Yes, I would have. Because unlike you, my feelings don’t impair my judgement or ability to do this job. You’re an asset to this team, you need to find a way to get your emotions in check.”

You stopped walking, turning around to face him. You were in the middle of the driveway now, SWAT and BAU canvassing the scene. But you were going to do this here and now.

“The only reason you brought me here was to appeal to that sick son of a bitch. The only thing that makes me an asset to you is the fact that I have a vagina and you don’t. You turned me from a Supervisory Special Agent into a fighting fuck toy! You watched as I drained every ounce of respect I had for myself to turn into what that psychopath desired, all because I wouldn’t show him pictures of innocent children.” He looked over your shoulder to the team, embarrassed that they were hearing this. “At least have the respect to look at me while I’m talking to you!”

Hotch had never heard you yell like this. You were the calm one, the baby, as Derek called you. No one ever pushed you so far over the edge to get a reaction out of you. At least, not until he did. 

“The next time you ask me, JJ, Prentiss, or Garcia to flirt our way into a serial killer's mind, to expect us to degrade ourselves in order to save another woman, I will not hesitate to report you to Strauss.” You could hear footsteps behind you, but you continued on as tears started to form in your eyes. “You used to say that my empathy was what made me an amazing agent. That my ability to connect with victims and families was the reason I’m here. So do not try and make me feel worthless for possessing something that you wish you could have. Because the way you act, with no capability for empathy, is a depressing way to live.” 

“Y/n,” Spencer rested a hand on your shoulder, but you shook it off.

“Figure out the man you want to be.”

Before you could say anything else, Spencer dragged you away from Hotch and towards the cars. You could feel the tears freely falling down your cheeks, but you made no effort to remove them. You ignored the stares from the rest of your team, not giving them the satisfaction of knowing what went down in that interrogation room. Instead, you got into the passenger seat of the suburban, and Spencer started the drive back to the office. 

Rationally, you knew you went off too hard at him. He never deliberately asked you to flirt with Arnold. He asked you to show him the pictures of Lucy, to get him to crack under the fantasy. But you refused. You would rather make yourself go through that pain than any young child. It’s what you’d always done.

Spencer tried to convince you they hadn’t heard the conversation. That they were all too focused on SWAT’s apprehending of the guard to pay attention.

“Spence,” You started and looked over at him. “We all had our earpieces in. You heard every word.”

And he was silent the rest of the ride back. You were exhausted, and you wanted nothing more than to go home and fall asleep on your couch with reruns playing in the background. But you had a mountain of paperwork to finish, and still needed to debrief when the team got back.

Halfway through your stack, the team came back to the bullpen. Prentiss gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze as she passed by, heading for her desk. Derek had agreed to let everyone go home without debriefing. This was the earliest we’d been done with a case so close to home. We needed to capitalize on our rest. 

JJ was the first to go home, excited to be home in time for dinner with Will and Henry. Prentiss and Rossi followed shortly after, going to celebrate the win of this case at an expensive restaurant, at Dave’s expense. 

“Come on you two, don’t make me drag you out of here kicking and screaming.” Derek addressed you and Reid as he pulled his coat on. 

“We’re right behind you boss man.” Spencer said and turned his desk light off, grabbing his cane. He should be able to ditch all mobility aids soon.

You swung your backpack over a shoulder and turned off your own light. You didn’t even make it out of your four foot space before Hotch called out to you.

“Y/n, could I see you before you leave?” He was standing in front of his office, on higher ground than the rest of us. Power move, you thought to yourself. But he wouldn’t be that petty.

You looked back to Reid and Moran, the former nodding to you before seeing himself to the elevator. Now it was just Spencer, his eyes begging for you to leave. 

“I don’t need to remind you how deeply you care for all of us. But if you keep putting yourself out there to comfort him, you’re going to get destroyed.” This was the first time Spencer had mentioned this to you. Sure, you’d been helping Hotch out at home, a little more than normal, but everybody was pitching in. His wife died for god's sake. 

“Spence, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He let out a sigh and fidgeted with his cane. You found it at a consignment shop on one of your weekends off, and bought it for him without hesitation. It had an eagle engraved in it’s clutch, something regal, medieval, and screamed Spencer Reid. You ignored the price, a forty dollars more than you would’ve liked to spend on a walking stick, but the look on his face when you gave it to him was priceless.

“You need to stand up for yourself. Nothing excuses the way he treated you today. Regardless of your decision to play a character.” 

God, could he read you. 

“No pair of rose colored glasses could cloud that. Not even yours.” He gave you one last shadow of a smile before limping his way to the elevator.

Once you regained your composure, you turned to make your way up to Hotch’s office. He was sitting in his chair, staring at the paperwork waiting to be filled out before him. You knocked on the open door, and he stood up without even looking at you. You were going to take Spencer’s advice and stick up for yourself, so you had to set the pace.

“Can this be quick? I wanted to get home before traffic started up.” He rounded the front of his desk, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he leaned against it. 

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you back at the prison.” You nodded, not wanting to verbally accept the apology that was due to you hours ago. “I was out of line and completely blinded by the case. I should’ve listened to you and taken your reservations into consideration. It was narcissistic of me to think I was the only one capable of making the right decision.”

“Thank you.” You stuttered out, still absorbing the tone of his voice. His word choice was self deprecating, a cry for help if you didn’t know any better. 

“Y/n,” He started but was interrupted by a shaky breath. “I hate that I made you feel like all you’re good for is to romance your way into their heads. You deserve to be treated with respect, to be valued because of your empathy and your psychological understanding of victims and their families. If I’ve ever made you feel like you were worthless before this afternoon, please tell me.”

“No, you’ve never made me feel that way.” 

He nodded before turning to grab a piece of paper from his desk. 

“Good. Because I’ve written up a complaint for Strauss, describing my behavior and language directed toward you today. You shouldn’t have to wait for a next time to file it.”

He extended the paper to you, and you walked until you were standing in front of him, accepting the complaint into your hands. But you didn’t even read it before tearing it in two. 

“What are you doing?”

“Hotch, I’m not filing a complaint against you. Everything that I did today was my choice. You didn’t force me into anything.” 

He ran a hand through his hair, the first time you’ve seen it tousled in the office.  

“I was uncomfortable showing Arnold those pictures. So I made the choice to play a character, to appeal to his fantasy. You weren’t in the room, and you didn’t suggest that. If anything, you tried more than anything to get me to stick to the script. Did you have some choice words for me that weren’t necessarily appropriate? Yes. But we all have our moments. After we got out of there, I felt sick that I had to do that to get a name out of him. It wasn’t the first time I’ve camouflaged myself for the greater good, and it won’t be the last. I took out the self hatred I had on you, because you were there. Because if I did it your way, I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror again without feeling ashamed. But you didn’t deserve it.”

“Yes, I do. I deserve to be ridiculed for telling you that your empathy is a weakness. I deserve to be ridiculed for yelling at Garcia for missing something on a search. I deserve,” 

His voice broke, and you froze in place. You were about to see Aaron Hotchner cry for the first time in four years. “I deserve to be punished for Haley’s death.”

Your own eyes started to water as you saw a single tear roll down his cheek. Without thinking, you reached forward and held his hands in your own. They were shaking, and he tried to pull them away from you. But you held on tight, you weren’t going anywhere.

“Hotch, look at me.” He kept his gaze on the windows, looking out onto the concrete roof. 

“Hotch, please.” You were quieter the second time, and that’s what got him to meet your eyes. 

“I’m not going to sit here and tell you that you could’ve prevented Haley’s death if you did one thing instead of the other. Because no matter what you did, Foyet would’ve found her, and done this all over again.” He tried to look away from you, but you tugged on his hands, begging him to stay. “But what you did prevent, was Foyet taking away the greatest thing you and Haley ever made. You saved your son, Hotch. And you ended Foyet’s reign of terror. You get to spend every day reminding Jack how amazing his mother was. How strong, resilient, and fierce she was. How she looked death in the eye and didn’t even flinch. You get to live the rest of your life for your son.”

He nodded and closed his eyes, letting the few remaining tears fall down his face. You let your own fall with the reprieve of no longer being under his stare, not wanting to fall apart when he needed you.

“I love her. I never stopped loving her. The divorce, it wasn’t because of that. It was because of this job.” 

You squeezed his hands before letting them go, letting him wipe off his face. 

“I know. And I know she never stopped loving you.”

You never thought you would get to this moment when you first met Haley. You let out a small laugh while remembering your first encounter, how pregnant and angry she was at Hotch.

“What?” You smiled and shook your head. 

“I’m just remembering the first time I met her. She was pregnant, she called you a robot, and was cracking jokes left and right to try and get you to crack.”

That got him to smile. “I could always make her laugh when we were younger. She had the funniest, most embarrassing laugh. But it was Haley. And it was addicting.” 

You wanted him to remember her like this, with a smile on her face and the loving soul she was. 

“I truly am sorry for what I said to you, but you have to know I didn’t mean it.”

You nodded. “I know you didn’t. Just apologize to Garcia in the morning, and get home to Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He gave you a small smile as you picked up your backpack.

Spencer’s words stung in your ears while you were holding Hotch’s hands. You loved everyone on this team as your family. And Hotch needed you to be there for him a lot more over the last two months. Sure, you’d brushed off some harsh conversations with him considering the circumstances, but you knew when it went too far, like today.

“Y/n,” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, stopping you at the door. “Thank you.”

You nodded. “Of course.” 

Maybe you did care too much for people. But if it helped them get back to normal, you’ll continue wearing those rose colored glasses a little while longer.

***

March 2010

“I’m grocery shopping. Because I have no food in my apartment and I never thought I’d say this, but I’m sick of eating pizza.” You threw a box of cheerios in your cart, careful not to hit the eggs on their way in. 

“That’s how you’re spending your saturday? Our first saturday off in a month?” 

“Well, unless I want to spend another twenty bucks on one meal, I’ve gotta do my grown up chores.” “You need to get your butt back home so we can go out and drink.”

Emily was relentless, to say the least. Every single weekend you had off, her number popped up on your phone the minute you got home. She hated resting in her own solitude, and tried to drag you along for any activity she could think of. Shopping, drinking, walking around the national mall, and, in desperate cases, running. But her record wasn’t stellar in getting you to attend.

“I’m spending the afternoon with my couch, a book that has taken me too long to read, and probably eat an entire bag of smartfood.” You chucked a box of granola bars in your cart too when you heard a kid cry. You turned to the end of the aisle, but the parent was blocking the child. “Besides, it’s dinner tonight at Hotch’s.”

“He canceled this morning. Rossi was supposed to call and let you know.” You rolled your eyes. Of course Dave forgot. 

“Daddy! I want the poptarts!” You heard the kid yell out again. But you knew that voice, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“Em, I’ll see you on Monday. Have a shot for me.” 

“I’ll have two.”

You laughed as you hung up the phone, pushing the cart over to your favorite little boy on the planet. You didn’t think to give the father another glance when you didn’t recognize him, but that’s because Aaron Hotchner is never without a suit at the office. He was dressed in jeans now and a quarter zip, looking like a normal dad.

When you approached the two boys, Jack was leaning against the shelf, tears streaming down his cheeks as he kicked his feet against the ground. 

“It looks like SSA Hotchner could use some help profiling his son.”

Hotch was quick to stand up, meeting your eye. You only smiled while crouching down to Jack’s level. 

“Hey little man, what’s the problem here?” He wiped the tears from his cheeks, and your heart broke at the redness in his eyes.

“Daddy won’t let me get any pop tarts.” 

“That’s because you ate the whole box in one day without my permission.” Aaron argued back. 

You hid your laugh in your shoulder, not wanting to upset Jack any more. But Hotch had already caused him to spiral into a meltdown again. 

“Jack, have you ever had ants on a log?” He shook his head, tears continuing down his chubby cheeks. “Well, they were my favorite snack when I was little. It’s celery, peanut butter, and raisins all set up on a plate. And the best part is, you get to make it yourself! Now, I know how much you love peanut butter, and I bet if you ate this snack, Daddy will let you get poptarts the next time you go grocery shopping.”

“Okay.” He said and nodded his little head. “But I’m sick of grocery shopping.”

“Me too buddy.” I sat down next to him. “I do not like having to walk up and down these aisles searching for food. So, why don’t we sit here while daddy finishes his list?”

You spared a glance at Hotch and his practically full basket. You knew he would be done in ten minutes if you stayed here with Jack. 

“Are you sure?” Aaron asked and you nodded. 

“‘Course. I don’t need food that bad anyway.” He sighed and made his way back to his carriage.

You pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of your purse and handed it to Jack. 

“Aunt Jessica told me that you know how to write your name now. Can you show me?”

He sat up straight, laying the paper down on the floor. You watched as he made a loopy uppercase J, followed with big and small letters to spell out the rest of his name. 

“That’s awesome buddy. What about your last name?” 

“Hotchner!” He yelled out and you laughed. 

“Yeah, let me spell it out for you.” You wrote it out on the paper and it took him a few minutes to copy down.

“You’re turn now, y/n.” He handed you the pen and you wrote your name down, saying the letters as you wrote them. Jack repeated you, and it made you laugh. You forgot that kids were such sponges. 

By the time you finished writing Aaron and Haley’s names for Jack, Hotch was back with his cart. “Alright buddy, it’s time for us to go. We gotta let y/n finish her grocery shopping.” 

“No! I want y/n to come home with us for dinner. She was helping me spell everyone's names!”

You smiled as you stood up, giving Jack a hand. “Maybe next time buddy. But you gotta get home to try those ants on a log.”

“Actually, we’re making pizzas for dinner, Jack’s saturday choice. You can come over, if you don’t have any plans already.” You’d never heard Hotch this nervous before. It made you laugh a little. 

“I’d love to. Only if I get to put extra cheese on my pizza though.” 

“Of course!” Jack exclaimed and you matched his smile. 

“Awesome! I’ll let you two pay for all this food and I’ll meet you at your house okay?” Jack nodded before running to the front of the cart.

“You sure you don’t have any plans? I don’t want you to give up another saturday night at my expense,” 

“Hotch there is nothing more exciting than spending my weekends with the cutest four year old on the planet.” He smiled, but you knew he still wasn’t convinced. “Besides, every other twenty-nine year old I know is in a stuffy club in uncomfortable clothes. This is much more my pace.”

He nodded, a small smile on his face. “Okay. We’ll meet you at the apartment in a half an hour.” 

“Sounds good. See you soon Jack!” You waved to the little boy and quickly tried to finish buying the staples that could get you through a few days at home. 

You got home and quickly put your food away, making sure everything that needed to be refrigerated was chilled. You switched your t-shirt for a long sleeve tee, opting for sneakers instead of boots. Comfort was the utmost importance on days off.

It took you twenty minutes to get to Hotch’s apartment from yours, arriving at five on the dot. You were known for, and proud of your punctuality. Hotch answered the door after two knocks, and you couldn’t help but focus on the noise of three different locks unlocking. 

He greeted you with a slight nod of the head, button down replacing his quarter zip. 

“Do you even own comfortable clothes?” “This is comfortable.” You rolled your eyes, as he took the poptarts from your hands, raising his eyebrow at you.

“Didn’t I just have this fight with my four year old son about not buying these?” He asked as he let you in the house. 

“Yes, but I’m the fun dinner guest. I bring the treats for the children.” 

He tried to hide the small huff of a laugh that escaped his lips, but you still caught it. “You will be the death of me.”

You let out a laugh as he led you into the kitchen, putting them away on the top cabinet. I reached for my hip and pulled my holster off, putting it on the counter. 

“Do you have somewhere I can put this? Last thing I need is to drop it while I throw up my pizza dough.” He unlocked the drawer in his desk, placing it in there before locking it back up.

You heard tiny footsteps running down the hall. “Y/n! It’s pizza time!” 

You smiled as he tugged at your legs. “I know! I’m so excited!”

“Alright buddy, you’re up first. Show y/n how we properly throw our pizza dough in the air.” Hotch pushed a step stool over to the counter, waiting for Jack to step up. The grin on the little boy's face was ginormous as he powdered his hands with flour, taking the small ball of dough Hotch separated for him.

The two of you were on either side of Jack, each ready to follow his lead in the process. “Ok, on the count of three. One, two, three!” 

You spun the dough in your hands before throwing it in the air, watching it separate the slightest bit. Jack’s giggles filled the apartment as he let his dough fall onto the counter. Aaron shook his head, you could tell this part of the meal was always a struggle for the little boy.

You watched as Jack spread out the miniscule amount of sauce he wanted along his crust, topping it off with a mountain of cheese. You taught him the more cheese, the better, and he clearly still believed you. You added some pepperoni to your own oval shaped pie, unsuccessful in making a perfect circle crust. But, not everyone could be the perfect Italian chef like David Rossi.

While the pizza’s were in the oven, the three of you sat down to play a few rounds of Candyland. You hadn’t played since your time at DCFS, and you forgot how there was no real objective to the game. It certainly wasn’t your game of choice, but Jack was still a little young to be able to contend with you in a game of monopoly. A few more years, you thought.

Once the pizza’s were done, Jack helped you set the table as Hotch cut the pies. You felt a little out of place, crossing some very important boundaries by having dinner with just the two Hotchner boys. This saturday was much different than the ones you spent when the whole team was over, Henry and Jack putting on dance parties for the guests. 

You started to become more aware of your actions around the apartment; how you knew where the placemats were kept, that Jack used his purple cup for milk at dinner, and the strict no electronics rule at the table. However, that had been established by Haley years ago. The thought of her had a shot of guilt running through your stomach, sitting down with her family for dinner, just three and a half months after she’d passed. 

You’d been thinking a lot about what Spencer had said that night at the BAU. He was vague, too vague for the doctor that could tell you how long he’d been alive down to the second. After a few sleepless nights, you called the doctor in question and demanded he explain himself. But after his admission, you quickly regretted having all the information.

Spencer Reid has known you for almost five years now, and has seen you through the moments that have shaped your adult life. Killing Stephanie Moore, testifying in the fisher king case, being your excusing phone call from multiple dates, and holding your hand as you took in one of your former foster siblings from a bad relationship. There was absolutely nothing in your life that could be hidden from him.

So when he told you he noticed your feelings for Hotch ‘about two years ago’, you nearly stopped dead in your pacing tracks. Not because you didn’t know your own feelings for the man, but because you didn’t realize it had been that long. That he had been married to Haley, albeit only for a month longer, that you started to notice how handsome your boss was. Upon hearing the truth out loud, and from another person, you ran to the bathroom and threw up a few times. 

You were so embarrassed, so ashamed of caring for someone that couldn’t be yours. For caring for someone who’s wife you truly adored. After the third round of puking, Spencer reassured you through the phone that it wasn’t your fault. We can’t control who we love. And yes, he said love.

“Are you okay y/n?” Jack’s little voice pulled you from your thoughts. You smiled at his sauce covered face and nodded. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. How’s your pizza, Jack?”

“Awesome! Daddy is the best pizza cooker ever!”

“You sure you’re okay? You look a little pale,” Aaron commented and referenced your plate. You hadn’t taken a bite. 

“I’m good, really. Just thinking about how I’m going to make a bigger lego tower than Jack after dinner.”

That got the little boy to laugh, successfully switching the conversation to Jack’s favorite toys. But you noticed the glaces Hotch snuck your way, not believing you for a second. You were an awful liar. 

The longer the three of you sat at the table, the larger your smile grew around these boys. Seeing Hotch being able to relax and really enjoy his time with Jack always brought a smile to your face. He was a natural father, sliding into the role of playmate and swaddler, cuddler and soother. You even remember him helping JJ out with Henry’s swaddle at work one day.

But you knew he felt guilty, not being able to be present in his son’s life everyday. You saw it in the hundred’s of views of the video of Jack’s first steps, the late night phone calls while away on a case just to say goodnight to his little boy. He missed out on a lot of the baby years, and he would be making it up to Jack for the rest of his life, with nights like these. With the whole weekend devoted to Jack Hotchner’s favorite things, minus the sugary pop tarts. Hotch had mastered the duality of being a Supervisory Special Agent for the FBI, and the loving father to Jack Hotchner. It was one of the reasons why you started caring so much for him. 

“Alright Jack, you can build one tower with y/n, then it’s bath time and off to bed.” You saw the pout on Jack’s face as Hotch cleared our plates, and you helped him off the chair. 

“Come on, maybe if we’re quick enough we can make two.”

He giggled as he led you to his room, stuffed animals and toys galore. This boy won’t want for a thing.

“Okay, you make a big blue one, I’ll do purple.” 

You finished much quicker than the four year old, but under no circumstances would he let you sit and watch him make his masterpiece. Instead, since you had nearly two and a half feet on him, you stacked your tower on top of his and continued adding pieces to make it bigger. He cheered you on as it started to reach your head, and you were getting excited yourself. Until, it came to a crashing fall with the last green piece on top. 

“Noo!” Jack yelled out, trying to catch the falling pieces. 

“It’s okay Buddy, you can always make another one.” Aaron’s voice trying to soothe his son caught both you and the little guy’s attention.

The two of you turned to see Hotch leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. You wondered how long he’d been standing there. 

“And maybe next time, we can make one as big as daddy.”

 Hotch let out a laugh as Jack smiled at you in amazement. He liked how your brain worked. 

“Bath time, bud. We gotta get your face cleaned up from all that pizza sauce, and ship you off to bed.” 

“But y/n’s here,” He whined, not wanting the lego fun to end.

“Well I have to get home and take a shower too, bud. Don’t worry, there’s plenty more playdates in your future.” You said and stood up, giving the little boy a high five. 

“Go wait for me in the bathroom okay, I’m gonna walk y/n out.” 

“Okay. Bye bobo.” He said and ran off to the bathroom, leaving you speechless in his bedroom. 

“You let him be around Derek Morgan way too much.”

“Probably. But you can’t compete with the guy who brings over a new lego set every weekend.” Hotch got your gun for you, walking you back to the front door. 

“Are you kidding? You’re his hero, Hotch. He asked me last week if I was a superhero like daddy.” He cracked a smile, but his eyes were glued to the floor, unable to meet your own.

“Why did you cancel dinner tonight?” He sighed and lifted his head. You’d been wanting to ask him since you were at the grocery store. The team had been coming over for three months now, and it was something we all started to look forward to.

“I was sick of feeling like a burden to you all. I mean, asking you all to give up your Saturday nights, sometimes our only free night of the week to spend in my depressing apartment, it had been enough.” If only you could show this man how much the team cared for him through your eyes, he would never doubt his worth another day in his life. 

“Hotch, the highlight of my week is coming here to be with you all. My family. Watching Henry and Jack play with each other, listening to Spencer and Penelope fight over who the true godparent is, and getting to be on the receiving end of Rossi’s awesome cooking?” 

He nodded, mumbling an ‘I know’ a few times under his breath. But he needed to know that as much as you all come here for Jack, you guys care for Aaron and his well being just as much. 

“I come here every saturday to make sure that Aaron Hotchner has not dressed in a suit for the sixth day in a row, and to make sure he knows that he’s doing such an amazing job with Jack. That he is being the best father, friend, and boss, that he can be.”

This time, his eyes were locked on yours as you got a real Aaron Hotchner smile out of him, dimples and all. You couldn’t help but make a check mark in the air, the team tally still going strong. He playfully rolled his eyes as you swung your bag across your shoulder. 

“So who’s in the lead now?” 

“Me, for the last six months. I can’t be dethroned.” You felt your cheeks grow warm, hoping he wouldn’t think too much into your stat keeping. 

“Well, that seems like a pretty accurate tally.”

You made sure it was. And selfishly, you hoped no one else could get that beautiful smile to cross his face like you could. 

“Thank you for coming over. We both had a lot of fun.” 

“I did too. I’m around anytime, my tower building skills are not occupied for many other people.” He let out a laugh as he opened the door for you.

“Goodnight y/n. Let me know when you get home.” 

“I will. Night, Hotch.”

You got home in twenty minutes, texting Aaron as you walked through your door. Quickly changing into pajamas and throwing Legally Blonde into the DVD player, your phone dinged at a new message.

It was from Hotch, a picture attached to the message. It was of Jack, towel wrapped around his head, eyes shut from grinning so wide. ‘He wanted me to send this to you. He said, ‘this is how happy I am that y/n was here tonight.’ Thanks again for everything. Goodnight.”

You couldn’t help the tears that pooled in your eyes at the sweet little boy in the picture, and his amazing dad behind the camera.

****

tags: @simplyprentiss @michaelahah @ssahotchner99 @svrgicalhands @hotchtopic @unionjackpillow @philcoolson @tommhollandzxhaz @kathleenjasmine @canimarrypizzaornah @reaperwalking @inlovewithaaronhotchner @shelbymm11 @mrshotchner23 @tropicalwrites

[lesbian-vmin]

Ask Roundup #1 - Vmin

Hey, guys! I promised to be here at least once this weekend and answer some asks. As I’ve been terribly busy with work, a lot has built up in the in box. With over 200 asks to get to, I decided it would be better to take an idea from romanticdrift and do an ask roundup and sort of answer what I have so far. No, I won’t answer all 200 in this post because a lot are very similar. But I’ll be summarizing asks and clearing out my inbox. Many of these are paraphrased, but keeping the original context. (vmin focus only)

Discussed in here

The importance of vmin friendship

4 o’clock

Chim’s reaction to Tae calling during kimbap live

No vmin live

Sad Tae / Vmin tension

Vmin friendzoning

I was going to add more asks to the mix, but this got really long with just the few that I answered. I also tried to do a mix of soft vmin and people wanting me to expand on some idea of vmin not being close or the “friendzone” thing.

(BELOW THE CUT)

anonymous asked:

Part of me wishes that vmin was real. Another part of me doesn’t want them to be. Don’t get me wrong, I ship them and don’t have a problem with the idea of them being gay and in love. But somehow I really like the idea of them being best friends who just really care deeply about each other. Does that make sense?

That makes perfect sense to me, honestly. I often talk about the value of friendship on this blog and how friendships are just as important as romantic relationships. If vmin have the close bond they do with each other, and it’s totally platonic, it sort of proves that there are friendships out there that have connections just as deep as romantic love.

This is one of the reasons I don’t push the “romantic vmin” agenda too hard. Because their friendship is perfect and ideal if that’s all it is. It really puts the statement “something deeper than friendship” to shame. Because what’s deeper than friendship? In fact, a romance with someone you can’t also consider your best friend doesn’t seem deep at all. It’s almost like “friendship” is what make romantic relationships deep. You know what I mean? You just won’t have the same connection with a romantic partner if you’re not also friends with them. So it’s silly to me how friendships are often devalued.

Regardless of what type of relationship vmin have, I think it’s okay for them to be the model of the type of relationship someone else would want to have. Whether it be with a friend or an s/o. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to have a romantic relationship that matches someone else’s friendship. And, if you don’t think vmin is real but still relate to them as “couple goals” because that’s the kind of relationship you want, then that’s fine. That’s actually sort of the kind of shipper that I am.

someone asked:

Tae started crying at the end of 4 o’clock during their performance. But if it’s just about the dumpling fight, why would he cry? Am I delulu? Was the fight really that intense?

someone else said:

Chim was smiling and stuff during the practice of 4 o’clock. So I think he had to have known that the song was about him?

These asks were from an anonymous person, but they were two separate asks. So I wanted to specify them as two separate asks in this post, but answer them together.

First things first. Let’s get a few links in here that you can reference to understand my answer a little better if you don’t know the whole story.

Four O’Clock | RM & V perform 4 o’clock live | The practice for the performance | The Friends Unit Interview | My (Old) Analysis of the Interview | Vlive in Which Chim Talks about The Incident | Vlive in Which Tae talks about the Incident

Okay. Let’s talk about Tae crying during the performance. I can’t actually say that he really cried, but he did seem to get emotional at the end. It’s a song that’s about a fight that is a big staple in their friendship. I think it’s pretty obvious that there’s more to the dumpling incident that they’re not telling us. I don’t think that’s the first time they would have had such an argument. They probably argue about whether to eat pizza or burgers all the time, and whether they should have dinner first and then watch a movie or watch a movie and then eat dinner.

Just the fact that Chim stated that he had to go and have a drink with Syub after the fight tells us that there was more to the incident than they are telling us. You don’t go and drink yourself drunk because you and your best friend can’t agree on whether to eat dumplings before or after practice.

I think that incident is one of the building blocks of their friendship. I think that it happened at a time they were going through a lot of changes. We know that Chim tends to be pretty possessive, and this was at a time that Tae started having his own schedule because of Hwarang. I think there were a lot of sudden changes to things, and that stressed them out and put some strain on their friendship. And it’s possible that’s entirely wrong.

Either way. It’s pretty clear there’s more to it than dumplings. But we can’t begin to analyze and figure out what it is and expect to be remotely accurate. And quite frankly, no matter how curious any of us may be, it’s none of our business. If they wanted us to know the “obviously more to the story” part of the story, they’d tell us.

And now. I guess I could have handles the two asks separately. But anyway. I’ve already talked about how I think Chim did already know that 4 o’clock was about that incident. So check the interview analysis I linked above for my discussion on that topic. I’m going to be going through my analyses soon and updating them, but that answer will do for now.

anonymous asked

You talked about Tae calling Chim on his live but what your thoughts about Tae caling during Ji / kook live. Chim was so unprepared and Kook was laughing about Tae calling and I guess Chim’s reaction to it. Chim didn’t seem to be in the flirting mood. I just wanted to know your thoughts on it.

I believe I have talked about this before somewhere, but I’m not entirely sure. So the live you are referring to is the kimbap making one (x). So, I’m going to reference the Mandago Incident in this answer, and I did an analysis on this live before. I’m going to link to the analysis I made. A link to the last mandago live can be found in that analysis. (x)

During the last mandago that we got, I really got the feeling that Chim wanted to do a live with Tae, but Tae didn’t want to join him. We have Chim being all sour and pouty and even down right petty in that last live, and I sort of got the same vibes from his behavior when Tae called during the kimbap live.

We know that Chim keeps saying he want to do a vlive with Tae, but it never happens. What the real story behind their lack of a live together is, we may never know.

I have a theory about this one, but it is just a theory. It’s probably not even remotely true, and there are thousands of other possibilities than what I’m about to say in regards to this live.

I think that it’s possible that the Ji / kook kimbap making live was supposed to be a vmin kimbap making live. Or vmin / kook, but I’m leaning further away from that option for this analysis to make a little more sense in relation to the mandago one (which I compare it to).

This analysis is assuming (1) that the kimbap making was supposed to be Chim’s live originally (2) he originally invited Tae to do the live with him (3) Tae refused (4) Chim wanted to do the live, but not alone (5) He asked Kook (6) Kook accepted, and they did the live together.

That’s a lot of assumptions to make for a logical analysis, but it’s seriously the vibe I got from Tae’s phone call.

Let’s look at the key points from the mandago live:

(1) Chim wanted to do Mandago (2) He wanted to do with Tae because it’s their thing (3) Tae didn’t want to come (4) Chim invited Kook instead (5) Kook came

After Kook joined the Mandago live, it didn’t take long before Tae joined as well. As stated in my analysis, you could make the argument that he wanted to eat as well (because they had food), but he ended up bringing his own food. He didn’t have to join the live to eat if he already had food on his own. I think he was upset because Chim was doing “mandago” without him. Even thought it ended up not really being a mandago live and more of Eat Jin.

Chim’s behavior in both lives really seems similar to me. So I sort of got the feeling that Tae was originally supposed to be part of the live but refused. Then when he saw that Chim was with Kook instead, he got upset. He called Chim, and Chim got upset. A “if you wanted to be in the live, why didn’t you just do it” sort of upset. Like, if Tae didn’t want to do the live with him, why is he calling during the live? Knowing they’re live? You get what I’m saying.

And, no. I’m not saying this is a Ji / kook vs vmin thing. And I’m not even trying to imply any sort of unhealthy level of jealousy here. I just think (if this theory is remotely correct) it shows how Chim is being real with us. He’s not just pulling our leg and saying that he wants to do a live with Tae but he really doesn’t and it’ll never happen. I think, again - if my theory is remotely correct, this shows how Tae doesn’t want to do a solo vmin live with Chim. Even if this theory is correct, it’s possible that Tae would have called regardless if Kook was there or not. Because, based on the theory, he was initially invited, but he didn’t want to be there in person. Alone. With Chim. For whatever reason.

Again, relating it to my theory, I think Tae either called because (1) If Kook was going to be there, he would have joined. Because that would have been a third person, keeping it from being him and Chim alone. So when he saw Kook there, he wanted to make himself part of it somehow. Or (2) He would have called even if it was just Chim because he’s more okay with talking on the phone than being there in person. 

I might do an actual analysis of the kimbap live, but we’ll see. It’s easier to talk about a theory here than to actually analyze because there’s not a lot to go off of without making assumptions.

related to this, anonymous asked:

Why do you think vmin won’t do a vlive together?

With some other saying that them not doing so makes it hard for us to see that they are really friends.

So, my idea on why they won’t do a vlive together is a little different than what I’ve read around. I think the reason it doesn’t happen is simply because they don’t want to, but not for any particular reason other than taking the time to do it. I’m going to explain.

We can make the argument that they are comfortable with each other and don’t want to have to be too careful. But I think that’s a copout for thinking a little deeper about it and making it more realistic. Yeah, it’s possible that they’ll have to watch themselves while they’re live, but what makes that different than any of the other members?

Ji / kook can have a live together, look into each other’s eyes, tease each other, and all kinds of things during vlive, so...why is the case different for them than with vmin? I don’t really think that them having to “watch it” has anything to do with them not doing a live together. It’s not like they’re really going to “forget about the camera” and accidentally make out or something. Even if they are in a relationship. They wouldn’t do that.

My honest belief, until I’m given reason to believe otherwise, is because they simply don’t want to. Vlives are often done from the studio or some other place where they work (if not hotel rooms). We don’t get random vlives of them living day-to-day life or going to Lotte World. So this means that most vlives we get are planned for work, or done during down time from work. But it’s always related to work somehow.

I really think that Tae and Chim are best friends and enjoy spending time with each other the same way any other friends do. When they are together, that’s their time, and they probably don’t want to share it with us. Because they share a lot of things with us, and I’m sure they have things (like their friendship or time together) that they want to keep for themselves. Despite Chim acting like the more private one, yet wanting to do a vlive with Tae, I think this is why Tae refuses. Because, although he doesn’t seem to be shy about expressing his love for Chim, he wants to keep their private time private as well. 

And that’s all I think it is. And, honestly, if that’s the case, we can relish in the fact that we don’t get vmin lives. Even if getting one would be nice. It’s nicer to know that they want to keep their private time private because their friendship is important to them and they don’t want to make it about us. And. Who knows? Maybe the mandago thing and the dumpling incident all have a part to play in this. Because maybe the publicity put on their friendship at the time is what caused those kinds of strains to happen. And to avoid something like that again, maybe that’s why they won’t go live.

But. I think it’s possible we’ll get one eventually. I haven’t given up yet.

anonymous said:

HI. I would just like to remind your readers about 2020 Festa: Unit Interview @12:31 VMIN was asked: What do you want to say to each other? Tae somehow refused to answer and just said: "WE ALWAYS SAY IT TO EACH OTHER." There's NO NEED to say what they feel for each other openly. No explanations whatsoever. As Chim said in Bon Voyage 2, not us, not even the members can fully understand what they feel about each other.

Remember what I said about no theory being good enough to be truth behind vmin? This anon gets it.

a mix of asks relates to

I don’t know why people keep saying Tae is sad or that vmin are fighting. They are fine. Nothing’s wrong.

I don’t know what’s more harmful. Assuming someone is sad all the time. Or assuming they’re fine all the time.

There are times when Tae is obviously down, and he shows it. I think he doesn’t try so hard to put on a fake happy face for us, and I think that’s wonderful. It’s okay not to be okay, and we really don’t have a lot of icons out there that let us know that. They may tweet and talk about mental health and the importance of it. But celebrities that actually show their mental status or even talk about their own level of happiness is far and few between. People think they’re happy all the time, and those that do say they’re not often get attacked because “why wouldn’t they be happy? They have fame, money, and everything?”

If you don’t see that Tae might be sad at a particular moment, or don’t think that vmin has a moment of tension, I guess that’s fine. But to say that it never happens is obviously false. Everyone gets sad sometimes, and everyone has tension with their closest friends.

That being said, those who go overboard and act like Tae is never happy or that vmin hate each other...yeah. That’s a bit much and needs to stop. Tae’s emotions are dynamic, and vmin love each other.

another mix of asks relates to

Do you think vmin are intentionally trying to friendzone themselves because they don’t want us to get suspicious? Or do you think they want us to know that they are only friends and shipping makes them uncomfortable?

Friendzone what? Like. What?

Regardless of what Tae and Chim are together, they are still best friends. The one thing that we confirm about their relationship is indeed that.

I really don’t think they ever say “he’s my best friend” in a “no-homo” kind of way, and that’s sort of what both scenarios presume. Two men can call each other “best friends” without having an implied “no-homo” label onto it.

And let me talk about this “no-homo” thing, okay? I’m not sure how many lgbt people are asking this question, but from my own lgbt perspective “no-homo” was always a little offensive to me. Like, why can’t you just give your bro a hug? Or why can’t you just say “I love you” to a friend? Are we really to the point where people have to say “no-homo” because they don’t want to give someone the wrong idea?

Honestly, my best straight male friend hugs me and tells me he loves me all the time, and he sometimes says “no-hetero” when he does it. And I love him to bits and pieces in a completely no-hetero kind of way because he started the joke because he realized how offensive the other statement was. At least, how much it bothered me regardless of how any other lgbt people felt about it.

Anyway. My point is, regardless of what kind of relationship vmin have together, I’m sure they say “he’s my best friend” because they are best friends. Regardless of any other labels they could have, they are best friends, and that’s what they want to let us know. I don’t think it has anything to do with dumbass “friendzoning” or “no-homo” shit. I don’t think they have some ulterior motive by simply stating that they are best friends.

And. Honestly. I if I asked my sister who her best friend is? She’d say her husband (or me lmao). If I asked my best friend who her best friend is? She’d say her husband (or me lmao). If I asked my straight male best friend? He’d say his wife (or me lmao). So. Again. My point is. Your significant other can be your best friend, and referring to them as such doesn’t mean you are friendzoning them.

It doesn’t mean that vmin is a real couple. It doesn’t mean that they’re not a real couple. It just means that, if they are, they’re obviously not going around introducing each other or talking about each other as boyfriends.

[thefanficmonster]

Kick Some Ghost Ass

”Until Dawn Gang x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Sex jokes (excuse my bad humor)

Genre: CRACK, Humor

Summary: It’s one thing when trouble finds this gang, but why don’t we take a look at what happens when they go actively looking for trouble. Needless to say, chaos ensues and no one is spared. Some are more affected than others, and some are dead-ass traumatized, but isn’t that just how life is in general?

Requested by my dearest ever - Until Dawn Anon. Hi lovely! I’ve missed writing your requests and I’m really happy to be back, creating another chaotic fic! I’m sorry it has taken me so long to post it but here it finally is - crazy as ever! I hope you enjoy it! Love you to Blackwood Pines and back baby ❤❤❤

I don’t know how I’ve found myself in this situation but I’m not complaining. If I get to do dumb crazy shenanigans with my crew, I’m ready for just about anything. Not to mention I’m no stranger to ghost hunting. I’m that kid that made DIY Ouija boards and took them to cemeteries with their terrified friends. You should’ve seen us leaving after capturing no ghostly activity - my friends relieved as fuck, and me pissed as fuck.

But today, I’m not expecting nor will I be accepting any disappointment. Especially not with Jess swearing on her Chanel purse that she wasn’t making things up when she said she had a haunted house she wanted us to visit. I must say, I appreciate this group’s enthusiasm when it comes to the paranormal. Never have I had someone who catches my vibe on the subject so well, let alone an entire gang all sharing the same opinion as me - that ghosts, demons and poltergeists are so fucking cool. Sure, Emily took a bit of convincing and Jess is not one to give a shit about the other world creatures invisible to the human eye, but something allegedly happened that changed her mind.

Her a-hundred-and-something-year-old great-grandmother passed away recently and though the death itself didn’t shake Jess up as much as it probably should’ve, the events that followed led to this moment right now - the eleven of us pooling out of two minivans that have pulled up to a terrifying looking house in a wooded are of the suburbs. Jess literally gathered us all on an ‘emergency meeting’ in the courtyard of our college just so she could explain the situation in detail - she doesn’t do well with explaining things in general, let alone when she’s hysterical - so we only understood what she was trying to say when she mentioned the word ‘ghost’. That’s when we all started listening more closely, with the exception of Emily, Beth and Sam but the latter two were intrigued despite trying yo hide it. You can only imagine how excited Josh, Chris and I were, Mike and Matt following a close second behind. Ash was a tiny bit more hesitant but Chris convinced her to give in. And just like that, a week later, here we are.

“I gotta ask, did your great-gran own a VHS player? Or a chest in the attic? Bonus points if there’s a creepy, child-sized doll in there.“ Josh asks as he yanks all the equipment he insisted we bring out of the trunk of the minivan.

“Quit fucking around, Josh! This is serious!“ Jess complains from the spot she’s standing in, shivering in the cold autumn breeze.

“Yeah, Josh! VHS players, creepy dolls, that’s all child’s play.“ I scold him as I pull on my jacket, wrapping it around me more tightly, “Shit gets serious when there’s a secret basement.“

“Y/N!“ Jess shrieks in exasperation. Honesty, how am I supposed to NOT bother her when doing the opposite is so much easier and brings more amusement? “You’re not helping!“

“Wasn’t trying to.“ I wink at her, driving her into a new level of fury that almost leads her to chuck her phone at me. If it weren’t such a prized possession of hers, I’m pretty sure she would’ve chucked it with the intention of knocking me dead. I’m lucky she has the aim of a drunk toddler that spun around fifteen times.

“Hey, quit pissing my girlfriend off, will ya?!“ Mike, who is basically halfway inside the trunk of the other van calls out to us.

I roll my eyes but choose to let it slide. However, someone else doesn’t. Emily does a dramatic turn on her heel, turning to face Mike, or at least the only part of him which is visible. You can imagine how hard it is arguing with an ass like THAT. I don’t know how Emily does it but oh well, I guess I do it too, in a way.

“So it’s girlfriend now, huh? No space between the words?“ Oh that smile she’s flashing him, it could make the Devil himself shiver. I find it kinda hot though - it means shit’s about to go down or hit the fan, either way, the rest of us will be entertained.

Mikey boy straightens up, gracing the rest of us by-standers with his dazzling features. Nah, I’m capping. I honestly think Mike is as attractive as I am patient - very little, almost not at all. It’s surprising how him and Jess are now apparently together since I always pegged her to be the superficial type.

“Got a problem with that, Em?“ He asks, eyebrow raising, head tilting to the side. Oh yeah, it’s on now. But, as someone who’s been quite excited to do some ghost hunting, and also as a representative of the peanut gallery formed of the rest of us who find it amusing and annoying, I feel the need to cut it short before it goes where it shouldn’t. I came to see some exorcist shit, not Keeping Up With The Bitter Exs.

“Jess, I sure hope your grandma is a blood-thirsty ghost cause I can think of at least two people I’d serve to her on a silver platter.“ I snatch the keys the blond has been jingling nervously between her fingers and jog up the stairs to the front door.

Ok I maybe overexaggerated the eeriness of the house. It sure wouldn’t sit right with you if you saw it around sunset or at night, especially not if it’s foggy, but a horror movie house it is most certainly isn’t. It’s pristine and well kept, not a single crack in the walls, the only reason it’s unsettling is because: 1) We’ve all seen a few too many horror movies; 2) There’s been reports of ‘ghostly activity’ - as far as Jess is to be trusted.

While I’m surfing through all the keys, checking each and every single one of them on the door because the real key is unmarked, I can’t help but overhear the conversation going on behind me on the porch.

“Can you believe we got all this in a single day and for a discount on top of all?! Whoever says Craigslist sucks isn’t doing it right.“ Chris’ enthusiasm over the deal him and Josh got on the ghost hunting equipment has been what’s keeping a wide grin on his face this whole time. Though I’m proud of my boys for not getting murdered by the Craigslist seller, I must say I hate that I lost the bet we had - I had to pay them each ten bucks if they didn’t get scammed/kidnapped/murdered and I’m now twenty bucks poorer. I’m not saying I value those twenty bucks more than my friends, though my broke ass needs all the bucks it has and all the dollar bills it could get, but Lord knows I hate losing.

“Yeah, and the guy was only mildly sketchy.“ Josh adds just as excitedly and proudly, “To be honest, Cochise and I were probably the scary looking ones in that parking lot.“

A look over my shoulder shows the twins, Sam, Matt and Ash giving the duo skeptical and somewhat disappointing looks and shakes of their heads. I’ll admit, the equipment is in very good condition and it’s the complete set for ghost-hunting, according to BuzzFeed at least. I’m impressed with the purchase - probably had something to do with how scary Chris and Josh actually look. The all-nighters we’ve all been pulling lately have taken a toll on them worst with the dark circles and bags under their hollow eyes, pale faces and brains turned to mush. I know I’d give them a discount to avoid them pulling out meat cleavers on me.

“That’s all fine and dandy guys, but do you know how to work any of this?“ Sam asks, hesitantly lifting the EMF reader and turning it in her hand, analyzing it with a curious gaze. 

Josh and Chris exchange a look before the former replies, “Just the cameras and voice recorder, the rest falls on them.” He points a finger at me and laughs, “Though they aren’t able to work something as simple as keys, they are more than qualified to be a ghostbuster.”

“You know, Josh, jokes on you, I can work keys! Jess, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be able to work well with organizing things, hence my problem with these keys.“ I hurl the bunch of keys connected my a scarlet keychain at Josh, “Lemme demonstrate my true skills.“ I hop down the flight of stone stairs and approach the pile of equipment the guys have created smack-dab in the middle of the house’s driveway. 

“Oh, I gotta see this!” Mr. Ex-Class-President all but runs over, frowning when we all turn to look at him just as I pick up the spirit box to show off how it works, “Oh that’s what you meant. So you aren’t taking your clothes off?“

Jess and I are alike in one thing - the need we feel to chuck objects at people who piss us off. “You’re girlfriend is, like, right behind you, Munroe. Have some decency!”

“I was gonna enjoy a show as well, but I’m guessing we won’t be getting one.“ The girlfriend in question replies, looking at me quizzically as though that’s gonna convince me into discarding my outfit.

“No, unless you’re a ghost.“ I point the device I’m holding at Mike, “But if your boyfriend here keeps acting up I might turn him into one.“

“That sounds kinda kinky.“ Beth’s comment surprises me. The wink she sends me even more so. “And I kinda like it.“

Ok, ok, ok, hold on. 

Flirting with Munroe is one thing, but Beth is a completely different story. I can be threatening Mike with a knife one moment and cracking sex jokes with him over cold beer the next. While Beth actually has the ability to get me flustered and blushing, and my close relationship with her brother doesn’t help. Mother fucker can just whack me upside the head every time he catches me fussing over my silly crush on his sister.

“Ew, you too! Keep it in your pants or at least get a room.“ Emily doesn’t miss a beat when it comes to being herself. She’s truly a garbage bin full of treasure.

“We’d do the latter if SOMEONE could get the door open.” I glare daggers at Josh who is making hopeless attempts at what I was doing earlier - unlocking that damn door.

“I’d be more than happy to come through for you ladies.“ Mike says, getting in a stance of a runner before a race, his body directly opposite the door.

Oh I can’t wait to see where this is going. I SHOULD RECORD IT.

“Mike, it’s still breaking and entering and it’s still against the law even if the person’s dead.“ Sam points out, entering her mother-like mode, ruining the fun and causing me to pout at her. She gives me a look of disappointment - one worse than I’ve ever seen on my parents - so I just shut my trap before she can also express said disappointment through words and have me feeling guilty for the rest of the day.

A loud crash suddenly echoes causing us to turn our heads to look for the source of the terrifyingly startling sound. One glance is all it takes to put our minds at ease and a second one is enough to provoke different reactions in all of us - the broken window telling the story of where Josh has disappeared.

“What did I just say about breaking and entering?!“ Sam shouts after him while the vast majority of us are cracking up like hyaenas. Jess is just gaping at the broken window next to the front door in disbelief. She obviously can’t decide whether to join in on the fun or serve as back-up to Sam. Josh did technically damage private property that’s partially hers, but if you ask me it serves her right for not marking her keys.

“Sorry, I was too busy breaking the window to hear that part of the conversation!“ Josh’s apologetic smile appears on the other side of glassless frame. I can’t tell if he’s genuinely sorry or holding back laughter but either way, he looks innocent enough for Sam to let him off the hook as long as he doesn’t cause any more trouble - in which case: tough luck. Chris, Josh and I are nothing if not troublemakers, especially when we’re together. Chris tones it down when Ash’s around, and the same goes for Josh with Sam while I’m simply problematic regardless of who’s watching. My chaos is untamable, it’s a blessing and a curse and I love it, even though it’s landed me in hot water more than once. It’s nice to be around people on the same wavelength - chaos resides within this group and not a single one of us can hide it.

“At least we have a way in now.“ Ash offers Josh a helping hand in this argument after she recovers from the overwhelming fit of laughter. “I hope the broken window doesn’t anger your gran, Jess.“

The blond snaps out of her trance briefly, “No, she was a very sweet lady, but damn is Josh creative!” She hurries to correct herself, “Destructively creative.”

I hurry to correct her once again, “Chaotically creative.”

“Guys, do you mind coming in? It’s very creepy standing here alone!“ Josh calls out to us, looking over his shoulder at the interior of the house, “I’m expecting to be snatched and dragged to that secret basement we mentioned.“

“Mention it one more time and I swear to God-!“ Jess screams, fists tightened.

Before her angry wrath could crash atop us, we all make our way into the house through the broken window, carefully avoiding the shards of glass strewn about. One step inside and we’re met with the upmost of horror clichés - a drop in temperature. We’re all wearing thick hoodies because the weather outside is chilly in and of itself, but said hoodies aren’t as efficient at holding the house’s cold at bay and away from out skin.

Chris and Matt make their way in last, carrying the equipment consisting of three cameras, flashlights for everyone, an EMF reader, a spirit voice box, a voice recorder and a motion detector. I help them hand a light to each group member as well as a ghost-hunting device before we venture onward.

“If I were your grandma’s ghost, I’d be ten times more pissed about that window. It looks to me like that lady payed a lot of attention to keeping things in order.“ Matt comments while he examines the expensive looking painting hanging in the hallway.

I hear Emily scoff, “Unlike some.” but the remark is said so quickly and quietly I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who heard it.

Jess laughs, “She did like things in order, but she was never as strict as you might think. As I said, she was very sweet.“

“So do you just not take after her at all or were you adopted?“ Emily’s remarks are no longer a mumbled jumble of words, “No, nevermind, of course you’re not adopted. Your parents are smart people, they wouldn’t have chosen you if they had the chance.“

Jess laughs again, much more menacingly this time, causing me to exchange a look with Hannah who’s walking beside me. “Twenty bucks says one of them isn’t making it out of here.” It’s just a matter of time, to be honest. If not the lodge, or any party we’ve ever attended as a group, this haunted house is the perfect opportunity for a murder. We could even argue it was a ghost.

Luckily, the two cats clawing at each other’s throats don’t overhear, “No, my parents aren’t stupid, but your boyfriend clearly is. He chooses to date you! Or are you holding him captive or something.“

Ok that’s enough. I can tolerate a lot of things, but people calling one of my best friends stupid is not something I’m about to put up with, “How dare you call one of my hoes stupid?” I sneer at Jess, eyes narrowing.

“I thought I was your hoe too!“ She fights back, looking almost offended.

“Even more reason you shouldn’t have called him that! I don’t tolerate my hoes not respecting each other.“ 

I don’t get to see where this argument goes because Ashley’s shriek echoes throughout the hallway, stealing mine as well as the attention of everyone else. 

“There’s a ghost in here!“ Making it to the doorway of the room she’s in first, I peak my head inside and see the EMF reader she’s holding going nuts as if it’s detected something.

“Don’t worry, Ash, there’s a dead cactus here. That’s not the ghost we’re looking for, is it?“ Chris, my amazingly bright friend says, quirking an eyebrow suggesting that remark was nothing short of dead-ass serious.

“Chris, darling, that’s not how it works. Cactuses are plants.“ I point out as sweetly as I can as to mask my laughter.

“Don’t the same ghostly rules apply?“ The genuine look of confusion he gives me almost makes me lose it.

“Ok children, leave the room, we need to set up a motion detector to be sure.“ Beth says with a tone that suggests she’s more than over our insanity. Jeez, count on her and Sam to start parenting us through our chaos. They are of high authority, must admit - one genuinely feels bad if they don’t comply to whatever these two girls demand.

We all pile out in the hallway while the twins set up this interesting motion detector with green dots. I don’t know what Jess’ granny looked like, but I bet that even the most unattractive of people would look hella good with this lighting. Thankfully the room is dark enough with the shutters closed and the curtains drawn, allowing the dots to be perfectly visible.

We stare at the minimalistic room littered with fluorescent green dots on every surface for maybe a minute or two but not much happens to the disappointment to some and relief to others. However, as if not wanting to let us down, the ghost makes a shy appearance if the shift of the green dots is anything to go by.

“Oh shit, is that a ghost?“ Chris whispers, sounding as amazed as I feel in this moment.

“It better be.“ I mutter in response, refusing to blink and risk missing anything important.

The sudden presence of the obnoxious noise of the spirit voice box makes us all jump. As I turn my head to glare at whoever’s using it, Josh speaks up. “Are you an attractive ghost?”

“Josh, that’s my great-grandmother, you ass!“ Jess barks with disgust in her voice.

In the meantime, I catch glimpse of Mike rolling up his sleeves. Oh shit, this ain’t good.

“I’ve been waiting for this!“ He shouts victoriously, cracking his knuckles.

Knowing this won’t end well, the first thing I do is snatch the camera from Chris’ hands and turn it on.

“Um, Mike, what do you mean?“ Sam’s back to being concerned, turning to the rest of us when Mike doesn’t give her a response, “What’s he gonna do?“

“Fight it.“ I answer as though it’s the most normal thing to ever have been done, “Or, ash he calls it - kick some ghost ass.“

“A freaking ghost?! He’s gonna try to tussle with something he can’t see?“ I can’t tell if Matt’s tone is disbelief, amusement or disappointment, but I believe he isn’t about to try and stop or dear ex-president in his pursuit and that’s all that matters. I ain’t about to let someone stop whatever’s about to go down from going down.

“That’s still my great-grandmother, you dumbass!“ Jess shrieks with something alike terror.

“Don’t worry Jess, I’m sure she’ll go easy on him.“ I say in an attempt to reassure her but I can’t even be bothered really, I’m too laser-focused on the circus that’s about to take place in front of me.

Mike, as if encouraged by my words, charges into the room. Much to his dismay, before he could even reach the ghost, he’s met with a much more vigorous enemy - the carpet. The rascal trips him up and Mr. Munroe falls flat on his face.

The group stays silent, looking at the glorious aftermath of the glorious fall. Told ya these lights could make everything fabulous. Must say, it’s truly an honor for me to have been able to catch all that on tape.

“10/10, would ghost-hunt with Mikey Munroe again.“

[lilxberry]

Can’t Quite Quit You - Chapter 1

Synopsis;

It appears that Mr Stark once had a Mrs Stark in his life that certainly wasn’t his mother. Tony and reader must work around their rocky path for the sake of the Avengers and the work the must focus on together once again.

Warnings: Language. Mentions of past relationship. That’s about it for this Chapter.

Words: 2,840

Pairing: Tony Stark x OC (past), James ‘Rhodey’ Rhodes x OC (platonic)

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(A/N: This is a separate series I will be working on. There will be confusing changes to the characters, original plots and relationships between people. For example;

Tony stark will have been previously married to OC

Morgan will be in existence at the age of 5 in this for a plot that will happen in future chapters

I have set direct ages for some characters like Tony and Rhodey which will respectively be 45 and 46

Tony and Rhodey will have met before they canonly met

Any further changes to things that I feel will need to be discussed, I’ll add them before the chapter begins in an authors note.)

(A/N 2: I will foreseeably not be posting on Thursdays and Fridays. I WILL continue to write during those days though ((if I do not have college work to complete during those nights)) and post them any other days of the week. Also, Chapter three of The Glitch should be up Saturday. Read chapter 2 here.)

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She took one last look around her home that was now vacant and clear of all her belonging, dark from the late hours of the night. Chloe sighed through her nose softly and lugged the last box in her arms through the threshold, closing and locking the door behind her, posting the key through the letterbox then proceeding to head to her car.

One Nick Fury had requested her scientific knowledge to be put to use helping the Avengers. It took a lot of persuasion on Fury’s and Rhodey’s part. Rhodey and Chloe are practically life-long friends with how close they once were, knowing each other for many years, still regularly keeping in touch. So, when Fury approached him about about recruiting her to the more scientific and engineering department of the Avengers, he had contacted her immediately in the hopes of convincing you to take up his offer.

She was renowned in her work as a scientist and robotic engineer, although, no one would truly know it’s her. She gave herself an alias, disliking the attention and wanting the focus to be purely on her work. 

Usually, Chloe wouldn’t need to be sweet talked into such an amazing opportunity but certain circumstances with a certain someone had left a bitter after-taste in her mouth and, if you hadn’t picked up on this yet, that certain someone is, let’s just say, closely involved with the Avengers.

We’ll get on to whom she refers to later.

Placing the last box into her Vauxhall Wagon, she climbed into the drivers seat and began her journey to compound, leaving behind her comfortable and solitary life where she focused solely on living and work. As she drove down the desolate dirt road, her eyes drifted to the rear view mirror, noting the stand alone house surrounded by fields upon fields, slowly fade away as she put distance between it and herself.

Her mind wandered as she travelled, wandering into crevasses she wished would not be explored, memories she thought she had locked away behind barriers and chains well enough.

Chloe thought of him, what his reaction will be when he sees her for the first time in 13 years. If he’s changed, if he thinks she’s changed which admittedly, she had. 

She knew what he looked like recently, of course she did, he was all over the fucking news. She couldn’t even open up Google on her laptop without his bloody face showing up but she hadn’t the slightest clue on what was going on in his life apart from being one of Earths mightiest heroes and quite frankly, she didn’t want to know either.

As she pulled up to a red light, she leaned back into her seat and closed her eyes as she exhaled loudly. A million scenarios passed through her head at how the interaction could play out. She knew things would be fine though, Rhodey would be by her side, a comforting presence helping her through the ordeal.

Her eyes were open once more as she watched the lights change. She turned her radio on, hopeful the loud 80′s rock blaring from the speakers would drown her thought out, remotely giving her a peaceful 10 hour drive.

“Fuck. Me.”

_______________

After a gruelling 11 hours and 45 minutes drive, the compound came into view as she passed the trees surrounding the large, sleek building. Chloe noticed the many people training on the grounds, making the assumption that they were employees of S.H.I.E.L.D., agents training to maintain their fit-for-field-work physique.

As she closed in on the compound, she noticed three figures standing near the entrance. As her eyes adjusted, she was able to recognise Director Fury, whom she had seen through her laptop screen when they first made contact, and Captain America himself stood beside a woman she did not recognise.

Her car slowed to a stop, becoming still then silent as she killed the engine. She huffed out a breath as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door, swinging her legs out first, happy to finally stretched her legs and exit the vehicle finally.

She breathed in a the fresh air as she stoop up, momentarily closing her eyes to give them a well deserved break, adding moisture back into her green orbs. She quickly recomposed herself and closed her door, rounding the car and taking a few small paces forwards to meet the trio.

“Doctor Miller. I’m glad you took me up on my offer.” Fury extended his arm towards the woman for a handshake which she shook with firmly with confidence. As he retracted his hand for hers and began to gesture to the two beside him. “This is Agent Maria Hill and I assume that you already know who this man is.” He gestured over towards the fellow brunette and the Nations favourite super soldier who both gave the woman a friendly smile.

“You assumed correctly.” She mused as she thrust her right hand towards each other them to shake as her left slides into her front pocket of her jeans. “It’s good to meet you both.”

Steve was the next to speak. “It’s good to meet you, too. A few of us have been informed of your work and I believe you’ll be a great addition to the team, working in the labs.” He sent you a charming smile. “I think you’ll fit in nicely with the others.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Chloe sent him a smile back. They noted the lack of shyness, she exudes confidence and is clearly prideful of the work she has put out into the world.

“We should introduce you to the rest of the team in the living area.” Maria speaks up, catching the attention of the other three. They nodded simultaneously in agreement. “If you hand me the keys to your car, we can collect your stuff and take them on to your floor. We’ll move your car into the a secluded area for safe keeping as well.”

Chloe nodded but spoke before handing her keys over. “Let me just quickly grab something and we can get moving, I guess.” Maria gave a curt nod of her head and Chloe walked back towards the Vauxhall. 

She opened up the front passengers side door and reached in to retrieve a box off of the passengers seat and her back pack from floor in front. Satisfied she’s grabbed everything of real personal value, she straightens herself out, closes the door with her hip and makes her way back over to the trio who was patiently waiting by the entrance.

She swiftly handed her keys over to the agent of three before following Fury and Steve through the doors and towards an elevator at one end of the large space.

“Would you like any help with that bo-”

“NO!” She cuts the captain off quickly, emphasising loudly. She cleared her throat before continuing. “Uhm, no, thank you. Sorry, the stuff in here is really important to me and I’d rather not put it into the large hands of a stranger, no offence.” She smiles up at the man bashfully. He smiles at her apologetically in return.

“No worries, sorry.”

As the elevator finally arrived, they stepped inside and rode up to the main communal floor all the Avengers use. The ride was relatively silent, until Fury spoke up. “Rhodes has been quite excited to see you, you know.”

She smiled at the mention of her friend. “I’ve been pretty excited to see him too. Not seeing him in person for 12 years is a pretty long time.” She chuckled at the thought.

Steve smiled as he watched the woman speak kind words about her friend, voicing how, after all this time, she would seemingly still be excited to see an old friend.

They fell back into a comfortable silence, listening to the hum of the elevator as it works to ascend pass multiple floors. A simple ‘Ding’ cut through the silent machinery and soon after the metallic doors slid open, reveal the mixed group of people as they turned their attention to the three now steeping out. 

The silence was daunting as the team watched them walk towards them. The silence was soon broken once again as Rhodey pushed passed the few stood in his way, a massive smile had broken on to his face. “Hey there, Pip.”

She grinned at the use of her childhood nickname. “Well, if it isn’t my favourite Lieutenant Colonel.” She sent him a playful wink as she placed her back pack and box gently on to the ground before surging forward, engulfing the man in a long awaited hug.

He immediately responded by wrapping his arms tightly around her shoulders, closing his eyes to bask in the loving moment between friends for as long as time would allow him. “You’ve grown.” She mumbled.

“You’ve shrunk, short ass.” She pinched his back through his shirt and his chest vibrated as he laughed.

He leaned back, looking at how she’s aged well in person. A few frown lines are scattered across her forehead and dark bags from lack of sleep evident on face but he couldn’t help but notice that she still had that same beautiful, youthful features that remained from their 20′s.

A cough from behind Rhodes brought them out of their small reunion, forcing their attention on to the group awaiting anxiously for an introduction. “Oh shit, right. Avengers, this is Chloe Miller, Pip, these are the Avengers.”

They all flashed her a welcoming smile as she drank in all of their faces. 

‘Too many damn people. I’m not gonna get used to this quickly.’ Chloe thought to herself as she continued to study the heroes before her.

“Maybe we should actually start introductions instead of standing here looking like a bunch of mute dumbasses.” The man she recognises as Hawkeye spoke with a hint of sarcasm. “I’m Clint.”

He began to point at individuals as he recited their names to her. “That’s Natasha, Bucky and Sam. Over there we have Wanda, Vision and Thor. And finally, Carol, Stephen and Scott.”

“Lady Chloe, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Thor boomed as he quickly made his way over to her in just two large strides and proceeds to pat her shoulder.

“Yeah, nice to meet you too, Salt.” She winced slightly as she rolled the shoulder the God had previously touched with his large, powerful hands roughly, referencing the Angelina Jolie character with long, blonde hair.

“I apologize for my rough housing, lady Chloe.”

“All good, buddy.” She patted his arm to show there were no hard feelings between the two.

As it looked like Thor was to reply yet again, Steve decided to interject. “There’s a few more of us but they’re currently either out, busy in the labs or away for other matters, personal or other.”

“Cool.” She simply replied to the man. As formalities and introductions continued to be exchanged between the group she noticed a small girl peer from behind Scott, she appeared to be young, like 9 or 10.

The young girl wasn’t necessarily shy in any way, she just chosen to stay out of the way as the adults talked. Chloe tilted her head towards Rhodey who still stood beside her. “Didn’t realise you guys were a fucking day centre.” She joked quietly, causing the man to let out a chuckle at the crack.

“That’s Scott's kid, Cassie. It was Scott's weekend and she really wanted to stay at the compound. She’s a sweet kid.” Rhodey informed her. she nodded in acknowledgement before making the decision to take a step forward and lower herself down to the child's level.

“Hey there.” She smiled sweetly at the girl. “I heard that your name’s Cassie. I think that’s a super pretty name.” This caused the young girl to send a smile to the 43 year old and step closer.

“I think your name is pretty too.” Cassie spoke in a sweet voice, tone laced with a childlike chirpiness.  

“I think we’re gonna get along great, Cassie.” She stuck her hand out towards the girl to finalise their meeting. Cassie grasps Chloe’s hand into her small, dainty one and shook it lightly.

Chloe straightened herself out and sent one last smile towards the girl before stepping back to her original position next to Rhodey. The man smiled sadly as he watched her in the corner of his eye, a knowing look in his eye as he noticed the smile that didn’t quite match the solemn look in her eye as she continuously glances as Cassie.

_______________

The group of people had migrated to the couches within the living space, continue to conversate with the newest addition to the building although, Scott had taken Cassie out to get food and have some daddy-daughter time.

As they continue to get to know each other, the elevator dinged once more, signifying the arrival of more people. Chloe peered over, seeing one Doctor Robert Bruce Banner, whom she was a big fan of, and a young male at his side. 

‘Seriously. How many kids do they let in here?’ 

“Ah, Bruce, Peter. We’d like to introduce you to Doctor Chloe Miller. She’ll be working in the labs with you and Stark.” Steve spoke to the two. Chloe stood up, ignoring the mention of Anthony and met them halfway, shaking Banner’s outstretched hand.

“Doctor Banner, it’s wonderful to meet you. I’ve read all your papers. Your thesis's are impressive, to say the least.” He smiled sheepishly at Chloe. She noted he was quite the humble man. 

“Thank you, Doctor. I look forward to working with you in the lab. Young Peter here works alongside us in the labs sometimes.” He directed her attention to the teenage boy that stood to his left.

“P-Parker Peter. I-uh-I mean, Peter Parker.” He wiped his hands on the front of his jeans before reaching to shake the woman’s, stumbling over his words. 

She chuckled at the young boys behaviour and sent him a comforting smile which seemed to have helped him significantly. “Don’t worry kid. It’s nice to meet you. You must have a bright mind to be working alongside Banner occasionally.”

He beamed at this as he flushes a light shade of pink at her compliment. “I mean, I’m okay, I guess.” She laughed at his also apparent humbleness.

“Sure, kid.” She patted his shoulder gently before moving to sit beside Rhodey again.

Bruce and Peter joined the others on the couches, sitting in any space that was available. As they settled into their seats, Natasha spoke out over the small murmurs between people. “Tony still in the lab?”

“Yeah, he should be up in a few minutes though.” Banner replied then looked over towards Chloe. “Doctor Miller, have you met Stark before?” He questioned.

Rhodey and Chloe shared a look, almost seemingly having a miniature conversation telepathically that didn’t go unnoticed by the group. “I guess you could say that I have.” 

Before the scientist could ask what she had meant by her statement, the elevator dinged once again, announcing a new arrival. “Why is everyone so damn quiet? Who fucking died guys?” He spoke as he walked further into the space, not looking up from the tablet his eyes were glued to.

Chloe didn’t even need to look to know it was him. His voice hadn’t altered that much over the years.

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed together when his question was met with silence. He tore his gaze away from tablet that displayed plans for one of his new suits and looked around at each person sat on the couches. He did a double-take when his eyes reached a a certain brunette from his past, a brunette he hadn’t seen in 13 years. 

“Chloe.” He breathed out, multiple emotions are on display in his eyes alone but the most noticeable of them all is shock which is etched across his face. 

She stood up straight, looking him directly in the eyes, her face stoic but voice laced with many emotions. “Stark.” She spoke with anger, malice in her tone. 

Tony quickly recomposed himself before draining his face of emotion to match Chloe’s. “Don’t say my name with so much hate, Pip. After all, it was yours as well at some point in time.”

Rhodey closed his eyes for a brief moment as he sighed softly before joining the pair in standing, staying close to Chloe as he knows he needs his support most right now.

The rest of the Avengers, excluding the pairs best friend, looks at them in confusion, unsure of the true meaning behind his statement. “What do you mean you used to share it?” Wanda spoke up, her accent thick and laced with curiosity.

Then suddenly, it’s as if the newly gained information and witnessing the interaction between the two had made something click, everyone’s features change as quickly as a flick of a switch. 

“No fucking way...”

“You guys are...”

“YOU GUYS ARE MARRIED?!”

_______________

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Something a bit different

Never done an OC before but I kinda liked how this turned out

I hope you enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and appreciated :D

[leefi]

Starira MBTI III - Frontier

1. Seisho

2. Siegfeld

3. Frontier

4. Rinmeikan

Aruru Otsuki: ENFP

Just go and reread Karen’s entry.

FJDKSLDKL in all seriousness leaps and bounds of Ne from both of them. There’s a reason they often catch themselves saying the same things and why Karen sees so much of herself in Aruru. Not only are they both Ne doms, they’re the exact same type! Ne and Fi together hold that naturally sunny and joyful disposition they both have, and that extreme, passionate love for the people they’re close to. And her Ne may be even higher off the charts than Karen’s. From the entirety of Captain Twins, to improvising lines on stage with Misora as kids, to being the embodiment of Frontier’s free-spirit, pioneering nature - all of this is extroverted intuition, chasing at every possibility under the sun, no matter how absurd it may seem. Her STRONG tertiary Te -- which is much stronger than Karen's, by the way -- supports her dominant Ne, and this is where her gung-ho attitude comes from. “We have to write our own play?? No problem, wheel out the whiteboard! Nobody has an idea yet?? That’s fine, I’ll throw one out and get the ball rolling! Misora and I need three more people for our play? What are we waiting for, let’s go find them!!” All of this is tertiary extroverted Thinking, implementing your ideas out in the world.

Misora Kano: ISTP

She is so compelling!!! I wish we got to see more out of her!! She's already cultivated so many of her talents (and her function stack is pretty strong for such a young age too) - she'd really shine if you just gave her the spotlight! The second ISTP in this series who had her inferior Fe develop super early due to having 1) a ton of siblings and working with so many people from such a young age and 2) a gf with Fi in her dom/aux slot. I’m gonna start with her Fe again because, like Futaba’s, it’s so strong for how young she is - she is quicker to pay attention to social convention than Fi-aux Aruru, scolding her whenever she refers to older Karen by her first name, for example (don't let her see Aruru call Akira -chan). We see aux Se in how energetic and in the moment she is - she grew up acting and doing backstage work and helping her family with their troupe, and we never really see her stuck in her head or wondering about things that aren’t in the here-and-now. Her partnership with ENFJ Michiru to create a new Troupe is going to be SO SO GOOD in the future. They really are going to draw the best out of each other. As polar opposites, they have the exact same functions, just in reverse (like Karen and Junna, or Hikari and Ichie)! So Misora has Ti-Se-Ni-Fe, and Michiru has Fe-Ni-Se-Ti. It’s the perfect setup for them to complement each other’s strengths and weaknesses.

Honestly, I really wish we saw more out of Misora - she deserves more than just being Aruru’s sidekick, and that Feeling function in her inferior slot (extroverted, no less) means that it’s difficult for her to communicate what exactly it is that she wants, both for herself and from others. Like with Mahiru, it’s intuitively hard for her to speak up and say “Hey, I feel like I’m being left behind”. Somebody needs to tap Aruru on the shoulder and communicate that to her - Fe-dom Tsukasa, maybe, or ideally, Misora herself. I think that she’s been kind of shouldered into the straight-man role not just by Aruru but everyone at Frontier because they all have such big personalities (like...she’s got Aruru and Lalafin taking up space, which is already more than enough), and she’s likely been in this position before. She’s been helping her parents run a troupe since she was a child, and now she’s (unfortunately) playing second fiddle to Aruru for the most part at Frontier. She’s been mostly stuck using her Ti and Se, and I really really hope that AA has us seeing her use more of that tertiary Ni and advocating for the goals she has for herself. She deserves to shine so much!!

One final note - I find it so interesting that both ISTPs in this series have such strong senses of faith - Misora is cast as the Faith arcana (and, unlike some of the other girls who are cast as the “opposites” of their personalities, Misora’s seems true to hers), and Futaba obviously has that reverent faith in Kaoruko (and is canonically religious???). It’s a bit antithetical to the ISTP personality type, which values its individuality above all else and tends to be a bit of a rebel. I don’t have much to add here - it’s just an interesting observation.

Shizuha Kocho: INFJ

Lalafin: The Count was such a great actor! I’m sure he would’ve been great on stage too…

Shizuha: Heh heh, maybe!

Shizuha: But still, he never went back to his original persona even after his revenge. He had to stay as the count for the rest of his life.

Shizuha: And he was able to do that because he was good at becoming other people.

Shizuha: ...Although I cannot say if that meant he was happy.

Lalafin: Even after his revenge, he still wasn’t happy...That’s one point of view to make his sadness stand out even more!

Shizuha: Right?...Yes. I think I’ll stick to how I’m doing things now.

THE!! LOVE!! OF!! MY!! LIFE!!!!!!! I CANNOT OVERSTATE ENOUGH HOW MUCH I LOVE SHIZUHA KOCHO!!!! She was my first favorite character in the game (and still is!! But frontier gets no content :’)). As I said with Maya, INFJs are old souls - wise and idealistic, but typically reserved. Auxiliary extroverted Feeling shows up in how she suppresses herself so as not to intimidate or make others feel inferior - we see the exact same thing play out with INFJ sibling Koharu. She’s mysterious but amiable, kind and awe-inspiring - just like INFJ sibling Maya. And we see that token INFJ loneliness playing out with all three, as well. What I love most about Shizuha is that she’s a person of extremes. She is so cerebral and intelligent and dignified in a way that reminds you of Maya but she’s also so!!!! Fucked in the head!!!!! Ni doms baby!!!!!!! (I am fucking crazy. But i am free).

Unhealthy INFJs can develop this obsession with making themselves martyrs, and I don’t think I need to rehash out her AA conversation with Aruru (and her entire philosophy towards acting - see above quote) to get that across. I want to dive into this more. Truly I do. Shizuha deserves 10 pages of writing. But she is one of the last I'm writing and I've clicked through 3 different AA stories and accidentally found Rui and Yukko's first so I diverted and finished writing Yukko's entry and I've already spent so much time on this oh god the doc is already 18 pages single spaced uhhhh Shizuha my loveliest love I will write your character deep-dive later I prommy <333

(Also, seeing her synergy with Aruru is soo so cute. INFJ/ENFP supremacy!! Same dynamic as MayaKaren!)

Lalafin Nonomiya: ESFP

(Se dom).

She’s so athletic and energetic and in-the-moment and improvisational and quick on her feet (Se, Se, Se)! Fi over Ti aux because she has a much more subjective view of what’s “fun” - “what do I want to do? Where do I want to go? What kind of character do I want to play???". She’s got that trademark genki energy that so many ExFPs share, particularly that childlike zeal that she and ESFP sister Ichie both have. In her own way, Lalafin embodies Frontier’s pioneering, fun-loving spirit just as much as Aruru.

Tsukasa: Lupin is usually portrayed as mysterious and polished, no? But the way you perform him is more fresh and open -- almost like the main character from a children’s book.

Lalafin: Oh! Come to think of it, the book on Lupin I read when I was younger was written for kids!

Lalafin: It was about this big and had a realistic image of Lupin right on the cover!!

I don’t really have too much to add. She’s just a perfect embodiment of that excitable, fun-loving Se and Fi dom/aux duo. Childlike and simplistic-appearing at a first glance, but there's such a fire in there - just compare her to her ESFP twin Ichie!

Tsukasa Ebisu: ENFJ

I can see that use of Se - love of fashion, sweets, dancing, going out and enjoying life - yes, she had overprotective parents and could just be making up for lost time, but I think that nice material things are something she just genuinely enjoys for herself as well. So at first I thought ESFP, but we can’t ignore that enormously caring attitude she has for others and the way she gravitates towards caretaker roles, which indicates more Fe than Fi. So ENFJ it is! She has that Fe and Se, and we see that inferior Ti in how she struggled to realize something was wrong when she was trapped in the play. I love, love, loved her leading role in the Arise All You Sons event and how she and Yachiyo interacted to bring out the best in each other - we saw Yachi using a lot of that aux Ti to support Tsukasa’s inferior Ti and dominant Fe!

Her dominant Fe is SOOOO clear and contrasts to every other girl in Arise All You Sons. She’s the first to go “hey, wait, hold on - I’m not sure what (inferior Ti) but something about this feels artificial, and I don’t think it’s actually going to help the kids”. Inferior Ti/Dominant Fe speaks before thinking too - “Why did I say that?! Why did I do x?!” - it isn’t until aux Ti Yachiyo shows up to help her that she’s able to work through her thoughts. While she can get stuck in the rut of her own mind sometimes, Tsukasa is one of the most caring, empathetic, and mature characters in the series - and she does all this without sacrificing her own autonomy and individuality, which can be difficult for an Fe-dom to do.

[manyblinkinglights]

MY PERSONAL TAKE ON UNITY-”HUMANOID” FERAL AVATAR RIGGING FOR VRCHAT

First of all: this is actually not that bad. If you avoid the many pitfalls I will lay out for you in this tutorial, the worst thing about the hookup process is the same thing that’s bad about everything in Unity: dragging the little thingies into their little boxies gets kind of tedious. 

NUMBERED LIST: 

1. Start with Rigify’s meta-human. 

2. Modify it by deleting extra bones, and

3. altering the hips and legs and shoulders for compatibility with VRChat’s full-body IK, as per Kung’s YouTube tutorial. 

4. Build your quad model around the head, neck, chest, spine, and hips of your Humanoid. 

5. Lock your Humanoid legs and arms out of weight painting.

6. Rig your quad model, and

7. Get it into Unity. 

8. Start putting rotation constraints on all/most of your quad model’s bones (I’ll tell you TWO BIG SECRETS). edit: I forget what two things were supposed to be the secrets. Pick whichever two things helped you most and let’s just call those the secrets. 

9. Build and test your avatar, then start tweaking your constraint weights until you get the effect you want!

**

ADVICE: 

part A: You can test an activated quad leg rotation constraint directly in your scene by applying it, and then grabbing your humanoid thigh or shin transform and rotating that, but YOU HAVE TO CTRL-Z IMMEDIATELY AFTERWARDS. NEVER apply a rotation constraint to a bone that’s been left out of its default position!

part B: Always, always, ALWAYS and only, only ONLY work on your Armature in Blender from full X, Y, or Z isometric view with X-mirroring on.  

KNOWN LIMITATIONS: 

The levelling bone in your backbone always points directly back, relative to root, from the user’s hips; they twist up and leave it behind if they turn from side to side too far, all the way around, or, god forbid, hit VRCEmote 6 (backflip). You cannot sexy poledance or flop onto the couch in this style of avatar without making a spectacle of yourself. 

If there’s some crazy calculus that’d spit out the exact right leg lengths and constraint weights to perfectly eliminate foot-vs-floor clipping at every height, I do not know it. There are just too many variables at play; put whatever leg lengths onto your quad that it requires, and then try to come up with rough, biomechanically-inspired values for your constraint weights such that your quad feet wind up near the same elevation as your Humanoid core’s feet when you enter the Humanoid sit position. If you do this your end result will be PRETTY DARN GOOD at standing and bending/dancing heights, but it WILL get squirrelly as you approach crouch. That’s just the way it is; in fact I recommend replacing the prone and crouch animation blendtrees with the standing ones. While this tutorial will generate an avatar that crouches and crawls around prone okay/amusingly, you do get sent into the floor in crouch/prone and there simply isn’t anything to be done about it. 

There is also NO WAY to migrate rotation constraints from one avatar to another. You can copy a fully-constrained avatar and hot-swap in your own edited mesh, but you (basically) CAN’T EDIT bones in an already-constrained armature without turning it all into spaghetti. 

**

ONE.

You need a working, full-body-tracking compatible biped skeleton to start with. But... there aren’t any out there (that I’m aware of) to start with, so I recommend scaling up a meta-human out of the Rigify add-on for Blender... here’s a guy walking you through that bit of it: https://youtu.be/DS885Sk1gSs?t=30 (we will not be making an “animation rig,” we are just getting a human-shaped Armature into the project with almost all of its bones named correctly already. So just do that part.)

TWO.

...and then deleting the face stuff, some other stuff, and the extra four non-finger hand bones out of each hand (make sure not to accidentally nuke part of your thumb, like me, because you might not notice until way later that you’ve given yourself a stumpy single-jointed thumb). You want to go from this:

To this:

I mean, I guess you could leave them, but too many useless bones will come back to bite you later if Unity decides it can’t figure your shit out and makes you drag every. single. handbone. into. the L and R hand slots yourself. Set yourself up for success and don’t skip this deletion step. Also, now’s the time to rename your hips -> spine -> chest -> neck -> head chain, since Rigify has them all as like spine01 spine02 etc.

Your penultimate guy:

THREE.

Now modify its thighs and hips as per Kung’s tutorial: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2sfTEBAl8sA

Basically, for this armature in particular you need the tops of the thigh bones to be below the entire hip bone, as follows: 

AND you need the hip bone to be above the thigh bones (Rigify’s is too far back). Personally, I got good results from just grabbing my legs and scooting them backward. 

If you DON’T do this, PC people and three-point tracking people will still be able to use your avatar fine. But full-body people’s hips will jut forward in a super fucked up way. IF YOU FOLLOW THIS TUTORIAL EXACTLY and include a BEND bone, this will be a problem. IF YOU CUT CORNERS and disregard the BEND bone (and/or you choose to lock the hips out of weight painting--valid), you can skip this step. But you seriously might as well do it. 

IMPORTANT! The lengths and angles of your bones here determine, in part, the later behavior & vivacity of your finished model. I like this modified Rigify base because VRChat’s IK makes it nice and lively. If you use a different Humanoid base, like a ramrod straight turbocompatible one, or a cool but non-fullbody-compatible style one (hey, go for it! PC and three-point tracking people have rights too!) the flavor of your animations later on will be different! 

FOUR. Build your model around the head, neck, chest, spine, and hips of your inner Humanoid! Don’t hold me liable for anything that happens to you if you change the armature proportions, but based on this one time I helped a kid hook up their quad horse, you can get acceptable/interesting non-full-body-compatible behavior if you do change them (to perfectly follow your cool dragon neck or whatever). I will continue on as if you did not change them! Anyway, do your thing. If you’ve got someone else’s mesh for this step, do your best to pose it in a neutrally upright standing position, and then put the Humanoid in it like they’re the front half of a horse costume, scaling the whole rig up and down as necessary. Again, ANY CHANGES YOU MAKE TO THE PROPORTIONS OF THE HUMANOID RIG WILL CHANGE YOUR ANIMATIONS LATER, and break full-body compatibility if you go too far!  Here’s mine, see the little guy in there? Try to pick him out from the rest of the rigging:

Your head needs to be placed so it does a good job aiming its head/so you can set the view orb so you more or less see out its eyes, and your neck, chest, spine, and hips should be in its neck and forequarters, but your legs and feet DON’T have to match up with your quad forelegs or forefeet! Your quad feet can be anywhere relative to your Humanoid ones so long as your quad is in its symmetrical, neutral standing posture. 

You can see that mine are a bit in front. It’s fine.

FIVE. Parent the mesh to the armature (or uhhh is it the other way around? Whichever way around it is, do it) with empty groups. Go into your Vertex Groups panel and lock out the limbs--that’s shoulders, upper arms, forearms, hands and fingers, thighs, lower legs, feet, and toes. You want them zero and kept at zero (unless your want your arms for a taur). 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rG82fogtuCg WATCH THE ABOVE VIDEO IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY. :V You can run the auto weight paint from here and/or start dinking around with weight painting your quad’s neck however is most comfortable for you if you want, but you still need to

SIX.  rig your quad model! Okay, here’s the one big rule for your grounded legs (wings and funky lil extra limbs that just wave around can do whatever): 

you must leave your Rigify legs straight up and down, no angling outwards, and YOUR QUAD LIMBS MUST BE STRAIGHT UP AND DOWN, NO ANGLING OUTWARDS.  

See mine: 

You don’t have to have them all perfectly in line from the front like I do, you could have your legs be set at any widths (say, wider stance in the armature hind legs than in the Humanoid ones, if your quad has wider hips), but they HAVE to all be exactly straight up and down, just like the Humanoid legs are. I tried matching my actual gryphon limb angles like in normal rigging once, and it resulted in incorrect foot placement/limb angles when standing neutrally (because VRChat’s neutral stance is not a perfect T- or A-pose). It’s fine if they’re different heights, though--here’s a side picture where you can see that my hind legs are lots taller, and my forelegs a little taller, than those of my Humanoid core:

Okay so maybe this belongs up there under FIVE. but, since you CANNOT add any jaunty character to your quad by adding naturalistic/sideways angling in its armature, the mesh, instead, must deviate from the armature to give you the illusion of a jaunty stance, and I DO recommend doing (just a little of) this. Your bones don’t HAVE to be in the center of your mesh volumes to still work okay, especially when they’re only serving as relatively-restricted legs (knees don’t twist, and neither do a bunch of quad bones driven by them). So, feel free to “pose” your quad legs in an interesting way around their upright bones, especially when it comes to giving your hind legs a different character from your front ones. Otherwise it’ll be way more obvious they’re rigidly linked, despite their different proportions. I recommend angling the apparent set of your hind legs out just a little, so your hind feet seem to be set wider than your front ones.

Not only does this help give each set of your legs its own character, to help with the illusion that they’re actuating totally differently, and that these are definitely your own original character do not steal’s full custom animations and not VRChat’s default ones--but your back legs are going to be operating the reverse of your front legs. This means that when the wearer adopts a wide stance, with their feet well apart from each other (as in many dances), YOUR BACK LEGS WILL CROSS. The amount of space I left between my gryphons’ hind legs, above, accommodates the normal amount of moving around that people do pretty well, but be advised that making a beautiful character with its hind legs neatly, narrowly posed might hit you with some heartbreak later! (You could get around this by instead rigging your quad to have its forelegs be the reversed ones, but this might be a little disconcerting for a fullbody wearer; or you could give yourself a “pacing” gait, where both your front and back left legs step forward at once, but this is a glaringly visible design choice for the kinds of people who notice these things. If you do this, make it a choice, not what-you-did-because-it-turned-out-you-had-no-choice.) 

(I did a bunch of bogus shit to make it so I could switch between regular locomotion and a pacing gait, but that’s outside the scope of this tutorial.)

Now, your BOB, LEVEL, and BEND bones!

BOB: Somewhere on your armature, put an unparented bone (any size) along your midline called BOB. (I put mine below my hips and called it dingle.dangle.) Ever ported a model in and left something unparented accidentally? Remember how it disconcertingly gets “left behind”? Well, we’re using that phenomenon to our advantage! BOB will be our rotation reference bone for LEVEL and BEND. 

LEVEL: So, LEVEL. Your quad’s back/torso should be/have one big bone coming out of the back of your Humanoid hips, call it LEVEL. It should be the parent for all your quad’s limbs, except for anything you have coming out of the head or neck (idk, whiskers, chinwings, whatever).

BEND: BEND is optional, but recommended; a bone that also sticks out the back of your hips, and stretches out more or less to the end of your ribcage, maybe to the middle-ish of your ribcage. Mine is parallel to the floor but that doesn’t matter much, and weighted at around strength .4 to the ribcage behind my shoulders, a little bit of the back of my shoulders where they meet my body, and tapering off towards my waist. Basically when you wiggle this bone up and down, it should arch and bow your back a little bit, over the top of your other weight paints, in whatever way is visually acceptable to you. Mine does this:

SEVEN.

Now, into Unity. Navigating Unity is mostly beyond the scope of this tutorial, but if you can add a VRC Avatar Descriptor, you can add a rotation constraint. It works the same, you just go find the bone (”transform”) in the hierarchy that you want and add a rotation constraint component to it. 

So, get your .fbx out of Blender and into your Assets folder or whatever. Click on it and go to Import Settings, set it as Humanoid, apply, configure. Pick out and add all the bones of your Humanoid armature to the Humanoid panel (if it hasn’t autopopulated--it might!), reset your pose and then enforce T-pose if necessary, delete the reference to Jaw, put Chest in and make sure there’s no Upper Chest, etc., all the usual things. You should see a little green T-posing person in the forequarters of your quad! Hit Done and you’re done. (Look up ordinary VRChat avatar 3.0 import tutorials if you’re having trouble with this step; you’re Humanoid at this point already, same as anybody). Now drag your newly-confirmed-for-Humanoid .fbx into your scene. Open up its hierarchy and look for the LEVEL bone; it should be under hips. Put a rotation constraint on this bone (click on it, Add Component button, search “rotation” or “constraint,” pick Rotation Constraint). Click the little plus to add a target, and drag BOB in there from the hierarchy. Leave the strength 1 above and 1 below (the 1 below will always be left alone at 1 unless specified otherwise), and click Activate. There! You did it! Now your whole entire ass won’t wave around!! You can hop right in and Test Avatar if you want--your head and neck will be the only things that move while your legs will all be stiff like a piñata, but by god, your back will be staying level. Try crouching and going prone!

Enjoy this first, sweet taste of quad success if you’ve gotten this far, because there are many, many ways to screw the rest of this process up, and even with me guiding you, you might find some brand new ones. Applying a rotation constraint correctly is as easy as above, but here are some pitfalls: if you move any bones in Unity with active constraints on them, or bones upstream of an active constraint, they get fucked up. If you activate a constraint on a bone that’s been moved, moving the bone back afterwards will fuck the constraint up. LEAVE YOUR MODEL IN ITS DEFAULT POSE AT ALL TIMES, UNLESS YOU’VE MADE SURE TO SWITCH TO GAME MODE. (Sometimes you get lucky and you can rescue a ruined bone by deactivating its constraint and then going to Modified Component -> Revert on the transform itself. But don’t count on it.)

If you change any values within a constraint while it is active, it gets fucked up. Uncheck “Is Active” before modifying any constraint!

But wait, there’s more! If you hot-swap your model (minimize Unity, open Blender, do edits, export your new .fbx, delete your old .fbx in the save dialog and replace it with your new .fbx, WAIT A FEW SECONDS because opening Unity in the middle of the hotswap borks everything, maximize Unity, it thinks for a second, then accepts your new model while hey presto preserving your rotation constraints), AFTER ARMATURE EDITS, so, again, if yo-- if you--*about to sneeze voice*--

If you hot-swap your model after armature edits, the whole thing can get fucked up and you might have to re-apply all your rotation constraints again. 

hhhhh that’s better. Now, you MAY hot-swap your model after wholesale bone additions and deletions, but rotation-constrained armatures lose their tiny minds if you change constrained bone lengths, positions, or angles!

Moving on! You just did LEVEL, now let’s do BEND.

BEND is constrained at .5 strength to BOB. Add a rotation constraint to BEND, set the strength to .5, hit the plus, drag in BOB. (Dial your reflexes in on this sequence because you are going to be doing it a lot.) The purpose of BEND is to bring a little life to your otherwise ramrod-stiff quad spine; you can experiment with strengths (of weight paint, of constraint weight, of bone length) but I recommend you try copying me to start. So that’s: BEND, a bone sticking out to about the end of your ribcage, weight painted at .4 or so to your ribcage and gradienting smoothly away, constrained to your unparented bone BOB at .5 strength (waving around without any constraint put too much wiggle in my gryphon). 

BOB, LEVEL, and BEND are the major engines behind my quad rigging giving an acceptable effect! You don’t need to throw $90 at Final IK if you’ve got some time on your hands and BOB, LEVEL, and BEND. :)

Now for ALL THE REST OF YOUR LIMBS!

A note before we begin. Unity rotation constraints can’t ever go past 1:1, that is, there is no way to “amplify” a motion to make it a bigger one. You can only approach parity with the reference motion, never exceed it. The clearest example I can think of is a tail. My tail is six bones, and I thought I could constrain each one to the head at .1 and they’d “stack” and make it so a small motion of my head would put an attractive curl in my tail. Lol, nope. The first one rotated the tail .1, the ones that followed each inherited that .1 rotation from their parent and had their constraints satisfied, and did nothing, and I had a tail that barely moved at all. (Blender’s bone constraints work differently and allow this kind of amplification; you can also test things out in there, but I could never figure out which settings would give me Unity-like behavior.) So, with that in mind, bring up a gait cycle of your target animal. If a video is too confusing, look for some static images (like an animator’s gait cycle) that show the gait. Try to see which bones rotate the most, and which rotate noticeably less. Use this to inform your constraint weight values later. If you picked a static image, you can even measure the rotations throughout the cycle to see which move most and least! I don’t know enough to use exactly specific language here, so, to the extreme literalists in my audience.... sorry about what I just said. If you find your ability to magically pick up on what I mean is poor, I’ll just give you my gryphon numbers later! Or you could just try some stuff, like having every bone at max strength & seeing what happens, and then picking just one to turn down to .5 strength and testing again. That should clarify the concept for you quickly.

Alternatively, the quick-and-dirty “I’m NOT HERE to acquire any sensitivities I don’t ALREADY HAVE” test is to just try to get your quad feet as close as possible to your biped feet’s level/height when the biped thigh is picked up to 90 degrees and the shin hangs straight down (the “sit position”).  Here’s how mine do:

Now, that’s half of the challenge, noticing which bones in the legs ought to be more or less responsive, and then roughing out an idea of the relative weights/responsivities each leg bone needs to make that happen, deciding which bones are liveliest and should be set at or near 1 and which are stiffest, or least active, and should go around .5 (you might even dip to .3). But (you might scream) what are you weighting these guys RELATIVE to? What are their TARGETS? Well!

...I’m not going to try to explain this. I’ve confused everybody every time I’ve tried. :p Just start with the shoulder constrained to the thigh, then the next bone down to the shin, then the NEXT bone down to the thigh again, then the shin again, and so on (thigh shin thigh shin thigh shin). This will get you 98% of the way there because most of the bones in a tetrapod leg-chain operate in simple opposition to each other. Basically, by rotating the shoulder like the thigh, when you raise your leg, your quad will start to raise its shoulder. By having the next bone rotate like your shin, and then continuing the pattern after, contracting your knee will make your quad contract its whole leg. This breaks down a little at the paw-and-toes, or the distal complexities of the horse, but just start with this pattern by rote. Then test it, and if one of the bones is obviously backwards, swap its target to the other one and test it again.

Last concept: if you have two bones in a row weighted to the same thing (like where you’ve got two bones that do not work in opposition to each other), the second one needs to have a bigger weight to the target than its parent. Because it inherits the parent’s rotation, and then only adds whatever amount that’s bigger. So, for my forepaw, I have it at .5 to the shin, and then the toes are at 1 to the shin. The whole paw acts as a shin-unit, but weighting the hand less than the toes allows the toes a little of their own flair. :v

(Okay that was a third-grade-biology-textbook lie. I actually have my upper paw .5 to the shin and my toes/beans at 1 to the foot. I might have a little bit of weight to the foot in the upper hand/palm part of my eagle foreclaws too. But I don’t recommend you add any weighting to the foot until you’ve got a good baseline result with just weights to the thigh and shin!!!!! The foot does things that you might find confusing and upsetting and which can introduce a LOT of incorrect limb placement/clipping, especially the further up the chain you allow it to interfere; it should be used sparingly or (as in my hind legs) not at all.)

Finally, the more your bone lengths and angles resemble your target animal’s (use a skeletal reference!), and the better you are at deciding which bones should respond a lot (and be weighted with high values) and which should respond less (and be weighted with lower ones), the more visual interest and species-specific character your quad avatar will have! You can see my gryphon’s rig above; here are its constraint values (where I go LR to LR, the left bits of the Humanoid control the left bits of the quad; where I go LR to RL, the left bits of the Humanoid control the right bits of the quad):

Back: LEVEL: 1 to BOB BEND: .5 to BOB Wings: upper_arm.LR.001: .5 to upper_arm.LR forearm.LR.001: .5 to (forearm.LR .5, hand.LR .5) hand.LR.001: .5 to hand.LR Hindlegs (targeted to the OPPOSITE side human legs): thigh.LR.002: .7 to thigh.RL shin.LR.002: .6 to shin.RL foot.LR.002: .9 to thigh.RL toe.LR.002: .7 to shin.LR Forelegs - EAGLE: thigh.LR.001: .7 to thigh.LR shin.LR.001: .8 to shin.LR foot.LR.001: 1 to thigh.LR toe.LR.001: .5 to (shin.LR 1, foot.LR 1) toe.LR.003,5,6: 1 to shin.LR toe.LR.004: 1 to thigh.LR Forelegs - LION: thigh.LR.001: 1 to thigh.LR shin.LR.001: .5 to shin.LR foot.LR.001: 1 to thigh.LR toe.LR.001: .5 to shin.LR toe.LR.005: 1 to foot.LR Tail: tail.001: .5 .5 to head tail.002: .6 .6 to head, etc. ***

REITERATION OF IMPORTANT PROTIP: Again, the quick and dirty test of your targets and values is to switch to Game mode and hike your Humanoid’s leg up so the thigh is parallel to the floor and the shin’s straight down (the sit position). Does your quad also hike its leg up, so its foot is in the neighborhood of your Humanoid’s foot level? Are all of your bones bending the right way? (Any that aren’t need their target switched to the other kind of leg bone.) If your quad is more or less “also contracting its leg so now it’s up,” then you’re either finished, or really really close!! If your quad daintily raises up its lil’ ol’ leggy for you, test your gait in-game and decide whether it has the right “feel”. If one of the bones is too stiff or too crazy relative to your reference animal’s style of motion, change its value so it behaves better, and hang the sitpose test. People mostly spend time standing, anyway, and your quad will likely look great standing and moving around even if it doesn’t do well at the sit test. 

[noona-clock]

The Counselor - Part 3

Genre: Teacher!AU

Pairing: Bobby x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: Sexism, Somewhat verbal abuse

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 | Words: 2,617

As usual, the weekend went by far too quickly.

Truly, whoever thought that a five-day workweek was a good idea -- whoever had invented that -- you wanted to have a talk.

When you really think about it, how did it make sense that out of seven days in the week, you should go to work for five of them? Why not four? A four-day workweek and a three-day weekend would make the world a much better place, you were convinced.

But, alas. There was nothing you could do to change that right now.

The fact that it was now the second week of school helped a little, though. The second was much easier than the first week, and basically from here on out, the weeks would go by in a flash.

I mean, Monday had already come and gone, and that was the worst day of the week! You’d already gotten it over with!

But now you had to prepare for the pre-test you were giving all of your classes tomorrow. Apparently, you had gotten a bit too overzealous when cleaning out your cabinets during planning, and you’d ended up throwing the test you’d used last year in the recycling bin.

But, hey. If you were going to work late creating a test, it might as well be on a Monday, right?

Just after you opened up your favorite test creator website, there was a soft knock on your door. You always left your door open after school, but you still called out for the guest to come in.

“Hey,” Bobby greeted before you even had the chance to shift your gaze and see who it was.

“Oh, hey,” you replied with a small grin, very quickly glancing at him before getting back to work. Bobby was probably the only co-worker you knew wouldn’t get offended if you didn’t give him your full attention when he came to see you. 

“Whatcha up to?” he asked casually as he shuffled over toward your desk.

With a sigh, you answered, “I’m giving a pre-test tomorrow, but I guess I accidentally trashed the one I gave last year. Gotta make a new one.”

As he usually did, Bobby perched on the edge of your desk, and he grabbed the stress ball from next to your pen holder. “Sounds fun,” he murmured as he threw the stress ball gently up into the air and caught it when it came back down.

You simply hummed unenthusiastically in response and continued typing away on your laptop.

For the next minute or two, the only sounds in your classroom were the clacking of your keyboard and soft thuds of Bobby throwing your stress ball up and down.

This was one reason why you enjoyed and valued your friendship with Bobby so much. He could come to your classroom to talk but the two of you may not end up talking at all -- he didn’t mind. And neither did you.

Still, though, after you finished a few questions, you let out a soft sigh and turned your head wearily over to look at him.

“How was your day?” you asked.

Bobby paused, holding the stress ball in his hand and squeezing it as he looked back at you. “Pretty good, I guess,” he shrugged. “It was Monday, and my appointments are starting to pick up, so the school year is in full swing, I guess.”

“Yep,” you replied with a slight frown. “First week is over, so now the real work begins.”

You let out a mix between a whine and a groan as you leaned back against your chair, spinning around slowly and letting your arms hang down over the armrests.

“Hard at work, I see!”

You immediately sat up, ignoring the inward cringe you felt at hearing that particular voice. You wondered how long it would take you to get used to Principal Howell -- surely, you wouldn’t dislike him for the entire school year.

...Right?

“Yes, Sir, Mr. Howell,” Bobby answered, and you didn’t even need to look at him to know he was smiling that angelic but professional smile of his. “I really shouldn’t be bothering Y/N because she’s trying to get ready for her pre-test tomorrow, but she’s too nice to tell me to leave.”

Truly, thank god for Bobby. You were a nice person, but you weren’t too nice -- you most likely would’ve responded to the principal’s comment with something far too sassy to be considered professional.

“Aha,” Mr. Howell chuckled, wagging a finger toward the two of you. “Sounds like a woman to me.”

You began to push yourself out of your chair, ready to retort back with something even more sassy, but Bobby interrupted you.

“Thanks for checking in, Sir,” he said.

Mr. Howell either understood Bobby’s covert request to leave you alone or he was too stupid to and simply had other things to do (if you were a betting person, you would bet it was the latter) because he shot Bobby a grin and left.

“Are you serious?” you hissed, barely waiting long enough for your boss to be out of earshot. “What the --”

“It was definitely sexist,” Bobby agreed.

You let out a strangled groan and practically threw yourself back against your seat, your strength forceful enough to spin your desk chair around about 180 degrees. “And it’s only the second week!” you cried, throwing two fingers up into the air for emphasis.

Bobby sighed, and all of a sudden, your chair was spinning back around to face him. “If you hear him say anything more, let me know. I’ll start keeping documentation and talk to one of the assistant principals.”

...Had you ever said just how grateful you were to be friends with the school’s guidance counselor? Bobby wasn’t afraid to take care of problems, but he never did it in aggressive way, and you just appreciated that so much.

“Thank you,” you nodded, making sure to look him right in the eyes so he understood you really meant it.

Bobby simply replied with a close-lipped smile before putting your stress ball back beside your pen holder and sliding off your desk.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said as he made his way over to your door. “And let me know if you hear anything else so I can add it to my notes.”

You brought two fingers to your forehead and gave him a quick salute. He returned the gesture just before he stepped into the hallway, making a soft, amused grin appear on your lips.

Normally, you would procrastinate right now. You would’ve told Bobby he didn’t need to leave, and the two of you would’ve start talking about whatever conversation topics came to mind.

But you knew you were going to have to stay late creating this pre-test, and the more you procrastinated, the later you would be here.

So, you sat up straighter in your chair and got right back to work.

“Happy Hump Day, Ms. Y/L/N!” one of the students in your last period class said with a smirk as he waved good-bye to you from your doorway.

“Yeah, yeah,” you chuckled. “See you tomorrow, Daniel.”

And just before he had fully left your classroom, you called out, “And don’t forget your homework tomorrow! Yesterday’s and today’s!”

“Absolutely!” you heard his voice reply faintly, and you wondered to yourself what the odds were he would actually turn it all in tomorrow afternoon.

You shook your head to yourself, a half-grin tugging at your lips as you began to straighten up your desk. While students like Daniel could be a handful... they were also kinda your favorite ones. Daniel, specifically, was very outgoing and loud -- not to mention forgetful and lazy -- but he was also sweet, thoughtful, and genuinely funny. He made up for the fact he forgot to do his homework 3 out of 4 days with how often he made you laugh or smile -- at least, in your eyes he made up for it. Surely not every one of his teachers felt the same way, but hey. What could you do?

As you put your pens back in your pen cup, your gaze scanned over your calendar to see what was planned for tomorrow -- and then you saw the note for Victoria’s tutoring today.

Oh, yeah!

You had remembered during your third period class earlier today, but you had already forgotten. Such is the life of a busy math teacher -- and that was exactly why you wrote things down so often. If you didn’t, you would never remember anything.

Right on cue, there was a soft knock on your door.

“Ms. Y/L/N?” Victoria’s sweet voice called out, and when you looked up to greet her, you saw she wasn’t alone.

“Hey,” you smiled, raising your eyebrows slightly. You recognized the girl standing next to Victoria as one from your first period class, but you couldn’t pull her name, even from the recesses of your mind.

“I brought Lisa with me,” Victoria explained. “Is that okay?”

Lisa! Yep, that was it. Lisa.

“Of course,” you assured them, gesturing toward the small, kidney bean-shaped table in the back of your classroom. “The more the merrier. ...Except not really because if too many people come for tutoring, it’ll turn into just another class period, and no teacher wants that after school.”

Both Victoria and Lisa giggled as they approached the table, taking off their backpacks and getting out their math textbooks.

You joined them at the table with a grin, pulling out the chair in the notch of the table and sitting down. “Where shall we begin? Anything in particular so far that you want to go over?”

Lisa answered that the lesson you’d taught today had been hard for her to follow, so you started there, having them flip to the chapter in the textbook you’d focused on just a few hours ago.

Since your lesson hadn’t clicked with either of them, you took a different approach to it this time. You used visual aids and tried to think of applicable examples -- especially examples that two teenage girls would appreciate. You had Lisa and Victoria come up with their own examples to make sure they understood, and then you began helping them with the first few questions on their homework.

“Good,” you praised Victoria after checking her solution to the second problem. “Do you feel better about it?”

“A little --”

But Victoria was interrupted by someone -- a male someone -- clearing his throat.

The noise came from your doorway, so you quickly shifted your gaze to see who it --

Oh, lord.

It was Principal Howell.

...And he did not look happy.

“Hi, Sir,” you greeted with a softly wrinkled forehead. “Can I help you?”

“What is going on here?” he asked in clipped tones.

He didn’t sound happy, either.

“I’m just helping them with --”

Mr. Howell stepped into your room, his chest puffed up and his eyebrows raised menacingly. “I don’t recall signing off on this,” he interrupted.

Your heart began to beat a little bit faster. You really didn’t like the way he was speaking, and you especially didn’t like that he was coming toward you.

“Oh, I --”

“I’m sure you’re aware, Ms. Y/L/N, that all after-school activities must be approved? By myself?” he asked, his tone nothing short of patronizing and condescending.

He had stepped too close to the table for your comfort, and since you didn’t want Lisa and Victoria to be physically in the middle of this, you quickly stood, almost knocking your chair over in the process.

“I --”

“I know that you young teachers have all these ideas and think you’re going to change the system, but I specifically said ALL --”

He raised his voice then, and you jumped a little.

“After-school activities need to be approved by me!”

“I’m sorry, Sir, I just thought--”

“Well, it’s very obvious you weren’t thinking, Ms. Y/L/N,” he snapped.

Inside, you were fuming. You were mortified. Terrified. Angry, embarrassed, and scared all rolled into one. You wanted to retort back with something smart and sassy. You wanted to tell him just what you thought of his stupid policy and his sexist remarks.

But on the outside... you found you just couldn’t. You could only gulp nervously and stammer and wring your hands together and --

“Mr. Howell.”

Suddenly, Bobby was standing next to the principal. You jumped a little again, and your heart sped up.

What was Bobby doing here?

Mr. Howell’s glare briefly shifted over to Bobby, and he muttered, “Ah, Mr. Kim. Hello.”

“My apologies, Sir,” Bobby said in his most confident yet casually polite voice. “This is my fault.”

Your brow knit together with confusion. This was all what now?

Mr. Howell looked just as confused as you felt, though there was definitely also some skepticism in his eyes.

“Excuse me?” he asked Bobby.

“I told her tutoring probably doesn’t count as an activity, so she didn’t need to get your permission,” Bobby answered.

...Oh my god. Bobby was taking the blame. 

Even though it was actually the opposite -- he had warned you about the new approval policy, but you had assured him tutoring didn’t count.

“I’m so sorry,” Bobby added.

Bobby had been shuffling around as he spoke, and somehow, he was now fully in-between Mr. Howell and the table, successfully blocking the principal’s view of you.

“I assume she has your approval now?” Bobby asked. “Since it’s just two students, one day a week.”

You held your breath. For some reason, you were convinced Mr. Howell would refuse to give his permission.

But, to your utter surprise and relief, he murmured, “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Perfect,” Bobby replied with a grin. “Actually, while I have you, I was wondering if you could take a look at something in my office?”

You held your breath as Bobby escorted Mr. Howell out of your classroom, only letting it out in a short huff when you could no longer hear their footsteps out in the hallway.

You deflated back into your chair and let your head drop onto the table with a thud.

Wow.

That had been --

Wow.

Wow wow wow wow -- oh, god, you weren’t alone.

Immediately, you picked your head back up to look at Lisa and Victoria sitting across from you. “Girls, I am so --”

Both of them looked completely in awe, and apparently, your words were just the sign they needed to spill all of their thoughts.

“Ms. Y/L/N!” they both burst out, their voices somewhat breathless.

“That was so --”

“Mr. Kim!”

“He came to your rescue --”

“Oh, it was so romantic!”

Your head jerked back in surprise when you hear the word romantic.

“Wait, what?” you interrupted, doing nothing to hide the confusion in your tone.

Lisa’s eyes widened, and she asked with wondrous curiosity, “Is Mr. Kim your boyfriend?”

You almost choked on the air you were breathing, but you managed to answer her. “No -- friends. We’re just friends.”

Both Victoria and Lisa’s eyebrows lowered, and they glanced at each other knowingly.

“Are you... sure?” Victoria asked.

“Yes, I am quite sure,” you assured them. “And I’m not just saying that because I don’t want to divulge my personal life. We are just friends.”

They looked at each other again, but this time it was long enough to make you nervous.

So, you asked, “...Why?”

Both girls’ heads whipped back around to face you.

“Well,” Lisa began.

“We think he likes you,” Victoria finished.

Part 4

[radishaur]

hi, i love how you write and i was wondering if i could request a zuko imagine with prompts 23 and 87 from the make a reader swoon list? maybe reader has had her heart broken before so she's hesitant about believing zuko or something like that?

Ah, to be Y/N, having Zuko comfort you and attend to your needs. I love this idea! I hope you like how it turns out. For those who haven’t read the prompt list here they are. #23: I fell for you without even knowing it and, jesus, does it hurt that you can’t see it” and #87: “Don’t tell me you love me unless you mean it”.

- Zoe

•••

Breaking The Rules (Zuko x Reader)

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

Part: 1/1

Summary: See Request

•••

Heartbreak can make you do stupid things. It turns you into an empty shell of the person you used to be. Each person you let in takes a piece of you that you never get back. That’s why love is for the blind. Those who will happily open themselves up to the pain of abandonment and heartache.

I wasn’t one of those people anymore.

Ever since my ex broke my heart, I had created a set of rules to follow. They were simple and straightforward, designed to make sure I never repeat my mistakes again.

Little did I know, Zuko would soon have me breaking every single one.

•••

Rule #1: Don’t talk about yourself

The Western Air Temple was quiet as everybody slept. The soft sounds of snoring filled the air but otherwise there wasn’t a sound to be heard. I sighed, getting up and deciding to go somewhere else.

I decided to go for a walk. I walked up the stairs of the temple and began walking through the forest. I had only gotten a few feet away before I heard rustling.

I turned cautiously to the area the noise came from and got into a fighting position.

“Hello?” I called out.

There was a bit more rustling before Zuko popped out from behind the trees. I sighed and dropped my fighting stance.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized awkwardly.

“It’s ok,” I said.

He stood awkwardly for a few seconds, shuffling around on his feet as if debating wether to stay or not. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at me hopefully.

“Mind if I walk with you?” he asked.

I shook my head no, not trusting my voice to work properly. I was still cautious of him, after all he did chase us across the world, but he just had a way of making me drop my guard.

Frankly, that scared me. It should have been the reason I said that I do mind and sent him on his way. But, of course I didn’t. I simply nodded and walked beside him.

“Couldn’t aleep?” he asked softly.

“Not really,” I replied, a sigh escaping me as I did.

I had always had trouble falling asleep. I was a night person so my mind just loved to keep me awake.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

The air was thick with a tension I didn’t know could exist. I desperately wanted to be back down in the temple so that I could avoid having a conversation with him. I needed to stay neutral about him.

“So, where are you from?” he inquired, looking at me from the side as he did.

I stayed silent, meeting his gaze with an apprehensive look.

“I just don’t remember seeing you in the group until a few months in,” he elaborated.

I pursed my lips and looked ahead, determining how much was too much. I would be walking a thin line by answering, but it would be kind of awkward for me to stay silent the entire walk.

“Right,” Zuko mumbled, mostly to himself, “I guess I probably should have assumed you still hate me.”

I felt a small part of my heart ache. The group had been giving him a hard time since joining, not that I blame them, but I also felt somewhat bad. I mean, he did seem like he was trying. I sighed.

“I’m from the Fire Nation originally, but I joined the group in Omashu,” I explained.

Zuko smiled slightly at my answer. I’m sure it felt nice for him to know he wasn’t the only Fire Nation one in the group.

“Can you firebend?” he asked excitedly.

I couldn’t stop the small smile that broke out on my face at his excitement.

“Yes, but I wasn’t allowed to train so I never use it to fight. I use throwing daggers for that,” I explained, lighting a small fire in my hand as I spoke before putting it out.

“Maybe I could teach you. Aang is still doing the basics so it wouldn’t be hard to add you into the mix,” he offered.

I hesistated. I really would like to learn how to firebend properly, but it would mean spending more and more time with him. Shirtless.

Eventually, my desire to learn won out.

“I would love that,” I answered with a smile.

•••

Rule #2: Never admit you have feelings

The Fire Nation emblem was unmistakable. The airships that surrounded us were definitely not friendly. Azula stood inside one of the ships and taunted Zuko.

I knew what he was about to do. He was going to be an idiot and fight her alone. She was getting under his skin and I knew as soon as he started running that I couldn’t stop him.

The Gaang rushed onto Appa and began flying through the sky, avoiding the ship’s attacks as we did. I kept my eye on Zuko the entire time. He was holding his own pretty well, but Azula was a formidable appontent.

“We’ve got to grab Zuko and get out of here,” Katara exclaimed.

“I know, but how? He’s standing right next to Azula!” Sokka said.

I turned to look back at Zuko just in time to see him hurtling off the ship and down into the abyss below.

“Zuko, no!” I screamed.

The Gaang watched in horror as Zuko began to fall. His own expression of horror etched itself into my mind. He was going to die.

Appa flew furiously through the air until we were swooping underneath Zuko. Katara managed to grab him hand and yank him down into the basket. I unknowingly let out a sigh of relief.

We flew to a new campsite far enough away from the temple and began to set up camp. I was sent to collect firewood, which left me plenty of time alone with my thoughts.

I had thought for sure that Zuko was going to die. The heart wrenching feeling in my chest as I watched him falling was unmistakable. I felt a nervous pit begin to form in my stomach.

I knew without a shadow of a doubt why I was so scared when he was falling. I knew why that feeling of relief that washed over me when Zuko was safe was also accompanied by a warm feeling in my stomach.

“I like Zuko,” I whispered, burying my face in my hands.

•••

Rule #3: Avoid physical affection

Zuko was right: the Ember Island players butchered every play. This one especially.

In hindsight, going to see a play about ourselves written by someone from the Fire Nation wasn’t a great idea. Everybody was in a bad mood, but especially Zuko.

I caught him wallowing out on the porch when I went to grab a midnight snack. I wondered wether to leave him alone or check on him. We had grown to be close friends since he joined us and I felt guilty about the idea of leaving him alone.

“Hey,” I said as I sat beside him, “Are you ok?”

He looked over to me with a sad smile before looking back out at the ocean.

“Yea, I’m ok. I just really didn’t like the play,” he sighed, bringing his knees up and hugging them to his chest.

“I didn’t like it either,” I admitted.

Particularly, I didn’t like the implied romance between Zuko and Katara. But of course, I didn’t say that.

“It just took every mistake I’ve ever made and threw it back in my face. It made me realize how undeserving I am of everyone’s forgiveness,” he explained, the same sad smile on his face as he spoke.

I hesistated. Normally, this is the point where I would wrap them in a hug and give a huge speech about how valued they are. I wanted to do that so badly right now, but the little voice in the back of my head that screamed no made me weary.

I settled for putting my hand on his shoulder and giving him a reassuring smile.

“You’re a good person, Zuko. Even good people make mistakes,” I said.

I stood up after a few moment of silence and began to walk away.

“Wait!” he exclaimed, grabbing my wrist as he scrambled to his feet.

I stood frozen to the spot, a look of shock and apprehension on my face as I wondered what he was doing. My skin tingled at the contact and sent a swarm of butterflies off in my chest.

I was about to say something before I felt Zuko wrap his arms around me. I hesitated for only a moment before returning it. He was incredibly warm and I found myself melting into him with every passing moment.

“Thank you,” he whispered, sending a shiver down my spine.

“You’re welcome,” I replied, my voice barely audible.

•••

Rule #4: Never be emotionally vulnerable

Zuko’s battle with Azula had not gone to plan, but he had still won. Today, he was getting crowned as Fire Lord and I couldn’t have been happier for him.

I went to go see him before the ceremony and found him struggling to get into his clothes. I giggled slightly which caught his attention.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed happily.

I hadn’t been able to see him since he left at the White Lotus camp. I glanced at the bandages wrapped around his chest and walked closer to him. I helped him pull his sleeve onto his arm as he smiled.

“I’m glad you’re ok,” I admitted softly.

“Same here. I heard you took some nasty hits,” he said, looking down to where my own bandages were wrapped.

“All for the good of the nation,” I replied, a joking smile on my face.

He laughed slightly before hugging me. At this point, I was no longer surprised when he did, but I still got just a flustered. I let myself enjoy the warmth of his embrace a little longer before pulling away.

“I’m glad you came to see me,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his good arm before adding, “I actually wanted to tell you something.”

“Oh?” I asked in surprise.

“I wanted to say something before I left to fight Azula, but I kind of chickened out. And then I almost died and realized I just needed to come out and say it,” he explained, taking a step closer to me.

My breath hitched as my eyes met his. They were so beautiful and more filled with emotion than I had ever seen before.

“Y/N, I really like you. I’ve had a crush you on pretty much since the beginning, actually,” he admitted, chuckling slightly as he looked to the side.

My heart dropped in my chest. Part of me was over the moon elated at the fact that he returned my feelings and the other half of me was too scared to say it back.

“W-Why?” I asked, my voice shaky.

“Why? Because you’re insanely beautiful and smart and funny and supportive. You believed in me when I didn’t and you make me a better person,” he said, a breathy laugh leaving his voice as he spoke.

I shook my head. I couldn’t believe it. It had to be some kind of joke.

“That’s not true,” I said quietly, beginning to step back from him as I did.

Zuko stepped forward again and took my hand in his. I met his gaze with tears in my eyes.

“It is true. I didn’t know until a little while ago, but it’s true. I fell for you without even knowing it and, Agni, does it hurt that you can’t see it,” he said.

“I...,” I began, my voice cracking with all the emotions I was feeling.

“It’s ok. I figured you probably wouldn’t feel the same,” he sighed, stepping back before saying, “I just wanted you to know.”

Seeing the heartbreak in his eyes only made mine worse. I took a deep breath.

“That’s not it. I....,” I trailed off, my confidence faltering slightly as he looked at me.

I ran a hand through my hair nervously before crossing my arms over my chest. Zuko simply watched me patiently, waiting for me to finish.

“I do like you. A lot. I’m just scared,” I admitted.

“Scared I’ll bertray you like I did the others,” he said softly.

“No! No, this has nothing to do with you,” I assured him quickly, desperate to stop him from going down that train of thought again, “I just...my ex really hurt me and I’m afraid of trusting someone that much again.”

Zuko stayed still for a moment before pulling me into a hug. I immediately began to cry as he held me, his hand rubbing up and down my back.

“I don’t know what your ex did, but I promise you this isn’t a joke. I’m so head over heels for you, Y/N. Even the Gaang can back me up,” he assured me, his arms tightening around me slightly.

I took a deep shaky breath before pulling back slightly. I felt the nervous pit in my stomach once more, but in that moment I wanted to ignore the rules. I leaned up and kissed him.

It was soft and nurturing and so very different from how my ex and I used to kiss. Zuko kisses me like I was a treasure he never wanted to lose. Like I was the air he needed to breath. It sent a warm feeling across my entire body.

“Does this mean you’ll be my girlfriend?” he mumbled into my lips.

I cracked a small smile before responding. I ignored the voice in my head that told me to run away.

“Yes.”

•••

Rule #5: Never say I love you. Ever.

Things with Zuko have been going great. I had been dating him for a few months and even with him being Fire Lord, he always made time for me. Wether it was small breaks in the garden to impromptu lunches, he always managed to fit me into his busy schedule.

Today, it was early morning tea. The morning was still bright and the tea I held on a tray as I walked towards his room left tiny curls of steam billowing behind me. I didn’t bother to knock before opening the door, but apparently I should have.

Inside, there was Mai. Kissing Zuko.

I felt the tray slip from your hands and crash onto the floor. Zuko shoved Mai off of himself as the tray fell and then looked to the doorway when he heard the crash. His expression of anger dropped when he saw me standing there.

“Y/N, wait!” he exclaimed, his expression of horror clear as day.

I ran out of the room. I didn’t even know where I was running, I just let my feet take me wherever they wanted. I knew I had been stupid to trust him. I felt my breathing become shallower as I ran and the panicked feeling in my chest grew as well.

I finally stopped in the garden by the turtle duck pond and cursed myself inside. Of course I had come here. This used to be Zuko and I’s stress free spot. I felt myself struggling to breath as I let my tears fall.

“Y/N, let me explain.”

I turned to see Zuko standing a few feet behind me. I hadn’t even heard him walking towards me. I turned back around and began furiously wiping my tears away.

“Go away, Zuko. I have no interest in hearing what you have to say,” I spat.

“Y/N, please. She kissed me out of nowhere. I didn’t kiss her back. You just happened to walk in at the wrong time,” he pleaded, taking a step closer towards me.

I scoffed before turning around and glaring at him angrily.

“I don’t believe you,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Y/N, I would never cheat on you. You’re the most important person in the entire world to me. I don’t love Mai, I love-“

“Stop! Stop it.”

My scream cut him off and sent the atmosphere into one of tense silence. My tears had begun falling once more. I didn’t want him to finish. I couldn’t hear him finish.

“Don’t tell me you love me unless you mean it,” I said quietly, my voice wavering.

“I do mean it,” he said, running a hand through his hair as he spoke, “I mean, this isn’t by any means how I was planning on telling you, but it’s true. I love you, Y/N.”

I met his amber eyes and felt a piece of my heart shatter. He had real genuine pain in his eyes, like he was begging me to believe him. I wanted to. I wanted to believe so badly.

“How can you expect me to trust you?” I choked out, wiping my tears away once more.

“Because I’m not your ex. I’m your loving boyfriend who wants to spend the rest of his life treating you with the love and respect you deserve,” he answered, taking another careful step forward.

I let out a shaky sigh and balled my fists. I forced myself to shut my eyes and look down at my feet. I felt tears building up once more as I fought with myself about what to do. I wanted to believe him because I did trust him. But, that tiny voice was still screaming at me to run.

I wanted to say it back. I wanted to admit that I did love him. But I knew that once I said it there would be no going back. I would be sending myself down the very path my rules were set to keep me from.

I felt Zuko’s arms wrap around me and realized I had begun to sob. My hands were at my mouth to muffle the sounds and I could feel Zuko’s hand rubbing circles onto my back. I latched onto him and cried.

“Shhh. Shhh. It’s ok. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so so sorry,” he whispered soothingly into my ear to calm me down.

He knew I was fighting a battle within myself. Even without me having to tell him, he knew. Maybe it was because he knew the signs of what he had gone through himself or maybe it was because he knew me so well. Probably both.

I found myself melting once more into his soothing embrace and I allowed my sobs to die down. Zuko never loosened his hold on me or stopped comforting me. I felt the familiar warmth I felt when I was around him return.

“I love you too,” I said, my voice cracking as I did.

I heard Zuko laugh and pulled away to see that he had also been crying. I wiped his tears away and pulled him into a kiss. He kissed me again and again and again, smiled wider after each one.

I pulled away from his to give him a stern look. His smile faltered for a moment, scared of what I was going to say.

“I’m still mad at you though. I don’t want Mai anywhere near you alone again,” I huffed.

“Deal. You don’t even have to ask again. I’m all yours, Y/N. I promise,” he responded immediately, his smile returning.

Satisfied with his answer, I hooked his arm with mine and began leading him to the kitchen.

“Let’s go make some more tea. I could use some after all that,” I joked.

I heard him laugh and press a kiss to the top of my head as we began to walk.

“I’m so in love with you, Y/N.”

“I know.”

[suntrastar]

abstract: chapter 1

chapter 2!!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader

Summary: Wait- Bucky Barnes attends your art class? And you didn’t even recognize him?

Word count: 7k (i am insane i know this!! you can also find this fic on ao3 !!)

Author’s note: hello! attempting to upload a fic on here for the first time ever! do i understand this website’s format. perhaps not. but am i going to try? perhaps yes! anyways hope you all like it :) likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!!! umm idk how this works if you wanna follow me you can?? do follows exist on tumblr dot com i think they do. hope they do. love you all. this is a long chapter buckle up (BUCKle up lmao i am not funny)!! enjoy ;o

“Hey, can you come look at this?”

You teach three classes a week- Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. The latter two are enjoyable in their own right, but Mondays are definitely your favorite. Instead of teaching kids, who are funny and creative but so messy, and so loud, you get to teach adults. People your own age or usually older, putting you in a position of authority, valuing your opinion, wanting you to come look at things.

It’s a delightful power trip.

You turn away from the window to see who’s speaking.

It’s Steve.

Of course it’s Steve, your star student, staring at you with a worn, weary intensity, wiping a paintbrush on a paper towel. He’s already pushed his sheet of paper across the table, bumpy with water and watercolor paint, cream-colored edges starting to curl. He leans away from it, reclining in a seat that’s adult-sized but dwarfed by his frame, looking so forlorn, like the paper just abandoned him, moved to the opposite side of the table by itself.

You stifle a laugh.

“Sure,” you say, and make your way over to his table.

Steve fidgets in his seat as you look at his painting. You try to keep your jaw in check.

It drops anyway.

As always, it’s beautiful. He’s painted a sky, swirling with purples and pinks, and careful clouds, flickering in and out between layers of paint, elegant and pale yellow-orange. And the sun- it’s off-center, and you’re sure it was unintentional, but that adds to the effect, because it’s hot red, and dazzling, and slowly seeping into the still-wet sky. Tendrils of red like real sunbeams, pushing through the clouds like a real sunset.

You don’t know why Steve even takes this class. Half the time, you feel like he should be the one teaching.

“It’s gorgeous,” you say eventually, once your words come back to you. “I love how you painted the sun- the red, oh my god. You’re seriously a natural.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, and you push the paper back towards him. He looks down at it, still tense, brow furrowed, and you almost laugh again, until he looks back up at you. “I wanted to know what you thought about it.”

Power trip.

“I love it,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile, which he hesitantly returns. You might be laying it on a little thick, but Steve still looks distressed, and you genuinely like the guy enough to try to help him.

When he walked in with his friend for the first class, you were floored. People like Steve don’t attend classes like this- classes like this are attended by regular people. Not people that walk like dancers, all grace and light steps, not people that are extraordinarily jacked, with jutting shoulders and rippling muscles, not people that have a weirdly authoritarian air around them, like a politician, but less shrewd.

Still, you welcomed them and made awkward small-talk and tried not to stare at their arms and hoped you came across as a somewhat decent person. It’s your first time teaching adults, you explained, and Steve gave you a smile so sincere and reassured you that you would do great, boosting your confidence to the point where you actually did.

Steve is lovely. He’s passionate about art and has a good eye, a better eye than you, really, and he always tries so hard with whatever he does, and he’s funny in a dorky way, and completely unaware of it. He always wears a baseball hat and tucks his shirts into his pants and called you ma’am once, and looked so surprised when you burst out laughing and told him to call you by your first name. With him, two classes have flown by, and now, during the third, he’s warmed up to you enough to talk to you like a friend.

The friend he brings with him, though?

A total douchebag.

The night to Steve’s day, the rain to his sunshine. It’s obvious that Steve brings him along as some sort of moral support, to make himself look less out of place, which is fine, except the guy always treats you like you’ve perpetually offended him.

And maybe you have, maybe one time you did something that’s worthy of his eternal dislike, but you wouldn’t know what it is, because he’s never brought it up, because he barely fucking talks.

You don’t think he’s a naturally quiet guy. He definitely looks like he has a lot to say, but no matter what, he only ever talks in single-syllable bursts, quiet enough that half the time you miss what he’s saying.

He doesn’t ignore you, either- he listens to everything you say and lets his judgement flicker over his face- which is way worse. A glare is a slight misstep, a shake of his head means that you’ve just said something that he finds stupid, a scowl is a catastrophe.

You don’t even know his name. He’s never introduced himself, and always writes his name in a shaky, illegible scrawl on the sign-in sheet, and by now you don’t care enough to look it up.

Still, you’re nice to him, polite. It’s okay if he doesn’t like you. You don’t need to be liked- being noticed is enough.

You shift away from Steve to his friend, sitting next to him at the table. He’s staring at you in a way that you can only describe as violent, and you flinch, and then plaster your smile back on.

“How’s it going?” You ask, expecting no response, stealing a glance at his paper. He’s painted the entire sheet a watered-down blue, and you want to congratulate him, for actually participating this time, but you don’t say anything. “The watercolors working out for you?”

Your heart goes out to the poor paintbrush in his hand. It’s barely been used, is steadily dripping water, and is being throttled in his gloved grip. He always wears one glove- it’s weird, but you’re not going to pry.

He catches you looking and a whole myriad of emotion plays over his face; irritation and shame, a creased brow and a scowl. You have the feeling that you’ve taken a massive overstep, even though you haven’t said anything else, even though you’re not looking at his hand anymore, just at him.

His hair hangs over his eyes, glossy and carelessly wavy, which you would find pretty, maybe, if he wasn’t looking at you the way he is. Like you’ve just done something terrible.

“Sure,” he says, and that’s it.

Even when you turn away, he’s glaring.

You hate it, so you pretend it’s not happening.

Steve gives you a sympathetic glance before you head back. You wave it off.

“Shonna,” you call, to the fiftysomething woman hunched over her painting a few tables down, “how’re the flowers looking?”

***

Thirty minutes before your fourth Monday class starts, you arrive at the studio to find Rina washing paintbrushes in the sink.

“Hey,” you call.

She turns to you and gives you a surprised grin. “Oh, hey! You’re here early- come help with these brushes.”

You set your bag on the counter by the wall and join her at the sink. You’ve known Rina for ages- ever since you were roommates in college. The class before yours is taught before, some advanced painting thing that she is extremely overqualified to teach.

She’s kind of famous. And kind of self-absorbed, and a little bit pretentious, but maybe that’s just what happens when you’re as successful in your field as she is. No matter what it is, you can’t complain- she’s the one that helped get you this job in the first place.

“A couple of people in my class like to get here early, so I just try to arrive before them,” you say. She passes you a clean paintbrush. You reach around her and tear off a paper towel from the dispenser. “Did you dye your hair? It looks so pretty.”

“Yes!” She shakes her head, letting her hair sway. Last time you met her, she had dyed it pink. Now it’s mahogany red, straight and sleek and falling just past her shoulders. She looks a little unreal. “How’s your class going? Are the people okay?”

“Yeah, most of them are pretty nice.”

She passes you another paintbrush to dry. You consider bringing up Steve’s friend, but decide against it.

“That’s good- and you’re welcome, by the way. But okay, listen. Do you remember that one guy I told you about a while back, Dustin? So yesterday I was just sitting at home, and then he texted me…”

With the formalities out of the way, she launches into a story about someone you definitely don’t remember. Still, you humor her, listen to what she has to say, chime in at the right parts and say “really?” and “no way!” too many times. The minutes tick by.

When all of the brushes are washed and dried, you take them, since you’re going to be the one using them next, and start setting up for the class. Rina walks away and grabs her stuff from the counter. She lingers by the doorway, door already propped open, aimlessly scrolling through something on her phone, hesitant to leave for a reason you don’t know. Maybe she has more to say- if that’s even, like, possible.

You set the brushes in a container at the center table, and head over to the shelves on the far wall to pull out more supplies. Unfortunately, today’s class is revolving around watercolor again. It’s drudgery, such a boring medium- dull, unsaturated, painstaking when it comes to detail. You bring out a stack of paper, the least-depressing palettes, and then mason jars for holding water.

You’re setting the last jar on the table when Rina shrieks.

It startles you, making your hand slip.

The jar wobbles over the edge of the table and then falls, shattering into cloudy glass pieces at your feet.

“Shit,” you curse, and look over at her. “Rina, what the hell?”

Standing across from her in the doorway, having arrived early for class as usual, are Steve and his friends, two shades more flustered than usual. Rina is gawking at them.

Okay, they’re attractive, but not that attractive.

Not shriek-worthy attractive.

You sigh loudly and carefully step over the glass, making your way over to them. “Hi, Steve,” you say, and he jolts, like a scared cat. He’s blushing, stepping back into the hallway, hands awkwardly dangling at his sides. His friend is staring at Rina like he’s about to murder her, and you’re staring at him like you’re about to ask him to pass you the broom behind the door.

Because you are.

“Sorry about… that. There’s a broom behind the door, could you pass it to me?”

He opens his mouth to say something, and you are desperate to hear him, even if he’s only going to utter a simple yes, but Rina buts in.

“You did not just ask the Winter Soldier to pass you a broom.”

Who?

“Girl, what?”

All three of you turn to her, cornering back into the wall. She looks even more unreal, eyes blown wide, red creeping up her neck, giving her hair a run for its money, still gawking. You resist the urge to reach out and pull her chin back up, to close her mouth.

She alternates between looking at Steve and at…  

“That’s the Winter Soldier,” she says slowly, like she’s trying to convince herself, or you, and then steps closer to Steve, who instinctively takes a step back. He’s fully in the hallway, now. “And you’re Captain America.”

Steve’s jaw clenches. He stays silent, and you feel bad for him, that’s all you can feel, really- you are confused beyond reason, halfway convinced that Rina is losing her shit, still awaiting the broom, still awaiting Steve’s friend’s words, racking your brain for any image of Captain America or the Winter Soldier that you might have- and coming up completely empty.

You don’t watch the news, like, ever.

Little details float back to you. Steve’s dressing sense, his manners, his muscles…

The baseball caps that both of them are always wearing...

His friend’s glove…

Oh, fuck.

“Are you?” You ask dumbly. The question is meant for both of them, but you only look at one of them while speaking. A glare meets you back- a slight misstep.

You can’t even see your feet, in this situation. You’re walking blind.

Steve crosses his arms and looks at you sternly. He doesn’t look angry, but as close as he can get. “Yes,” he says, completely guarded and unfriendly and not lovely at all. “I thought you knew that.”

You are so stupid- how did you not know that?

“I didn’t,” you say, and you don’t sound convincing at all. Not much fazes you, but you are absolutely, positively fazed right now, and starting to spiral out. “I had no idea- I thought you guys could have been, like, bodyguards, or something, not actual Avengers, oh my god. I’m so sorry, shit, thank you for your service?”

You’re going to end it all- this is so embarrassing.

Steve’s mouth twitches. Rina is scarlet-faced. The Winter Soldier, god, looks so tense, like he might shatter, too, into silent, grumpy pieces all over the floor.

“You’re welcome,” Steve says, and marginally relaxes. He stays in the hallway, the Winter Soldier by the door- you should have paid more attention in your tenth grade history class, what is the guy’s name?

Rina peels herself off the wall, and you start to get nervous. There’s a painful silence, with lots of staring, where you’re still trying to coax a few rational thoughts out of your brain, and only coming up with one- Rina needs to leave.  

You try to tell her that with your eyes, with a pointed look, but you’re not great at this whole communication-through-expressions thing, so she doesn’t get the hint, or does and just ignores it.

“So, let me get this straight,” she says, tearing the silence like a plastic seal, voice starting to rise, from wonder to excitement, from painless curiosity to danger, “there’s two Avengers taking your class? And you didn’t even recognize them?”

“Nope,” you say, looking away, at a stain on the wall, at the distant glass shards still unswept away on the floor.

“That’s…”

She trails off before she has the chance to call you stupid, because the Winter Soldier gives her a pointed look of his own. Low brows and dark eyelashes, blazing blue eyes- she has no choice but to listen. Your staring was irritating, but his is intimidating.

She scampers away, mumbling something you can’t catch and brushing against Steve as she leaves.

This whole thing is so unprofessional, but at least you can breathe again-

“Here,” the Winter Soldier says, and a broom handle comes into your view.

Just one word, but you’ll take it with open arms. You take the broom from him, give an unreturned, unfamiliarly sheepish smile and head back to the broken glass on the floor.

The broken glass is swept up and tossed in the trash. You avoid looking at the doorway, focusing on other useless tasks instead. Rearranging the supplies on the table, fiddling with the window blinds, chatting with the rest of the class attendees as they start to file in.

Then the class starts and you’re swept back into your demonstration, talking and teaching and showing off different techniques that can be done with different types of brushes. You only look in their direction once, right after showing off some technique you barely remember from art school with a fan brush- they sit at their table near the back, Steve paying attention as usual, his friend silently reacting, as usual.

So they decided to stay- that’s good. Great, even.

Until the next part of the class starts, when everyone gets to work on their own paintings, when you have to stop talking.

You mill around the room, searching for a conversation to join in on or a comment to make, but find none. Then you take a sheet of paper and hopelessly try to draw- search for a distraction and a spark up of an idea, something, anything, and come up completely empty. It’s just...

How famous are they? Like, A-list celebrity famous? Are they offended that you didn’t recognize them- should you start treating them differently? You don’t keep up with this stuff. You have an impossibly long list of other things to worry about- you don’t have the time to worry about this stuff. The Avengers aren’t something you think about ever, because why should you?

If you opened any newspaper or magazine you would find something about them- a charity gala they attended, some recent threat they neutralized, the latest gossip surrounding their personal lives. But those lives are so far detached from your own that you’ve never bothered to look.

You simply don’t care. You’re not a native New Yorker- it’s not like these people are your hometown heroes, that you grew up idolizing them. They save the world time and time again and society is forever indebted to them and all of that, but what are you supposed to do about it?

And most importantly, what is the Winter Soldier’s fucking name?

Enough of this chaos goes on in your mind to make your head hurt. Fuck it, you decide- you’ll face it. You straighten your shoulders as you stand, trying your best to look purposeful as you walk to their table, like you have reason to go over there. Yeah, they’re strong. Genetically enhanced and all of that, and they’re important: they’re Avengers.

But they’re taking your class.

You slide into the chair across from the Soldier without taking the time to gauge their reactions.

“Do other people here know?” You ask.

Steve startles, eyes widening, and then considers the question while swirling his brush in green paint. He’s working on a landscape today, you think. “Shonna might,” he says, not rudely. “But nobody else.”

So maybe not that famous. Or maybe the people here are just like you and don’t care.

But it still doesn’t make sense. “Then why did you think that I knew?”

“Because you talk a lot,” Steve says, like it’s the most obvious thing ever.

“Well, yeah, that’s part of the job-”

Steve cuts you off, and fuck, you hate getting interrupted. But he’s smiling, and you can’t bring yourself to get upset over it. “You talk a lot to us.”

Us?  

More like to him.

You take it in stride, don’t let your confidence slip. You’ve purposely angled your head away, and you know the Winter Soldier is staring at you- you can feel it on your cheek, on your shoulder, on every nerve in your face. You don’t look back at him. This revelation hasn’t made him any less unpleasant.

“Yeah,” you say, like it’s just as obvious, “because you’re a nice guy, Steve.”

Steve raises his eyebrows so high that they disappear under the brim of his hat. You smile at him as nicely as you can, sugar-sweet, until he can’t take anymore and drops his gaze back to his painting. You turn back to the nameless man across from you.

Winter Soldier.

“Hi,” you say, only to him, and prop your elbows up on the table, resting your face in your hands. “I love the little pattern you have going on with your painting.”

It’s random splotches of black paint- calling it a pattern is an exaggeration. But you carry on.

“This is probably a bad time to ask, and it’s kind of a dumb question, but, like, what’s your name?”

He just barely raises an eyebrow, allowing for a fraction of surprise, before schooling his expression back into his usual mix of anger and boredom, a casual glare and slight frown. For a moment, you wonder what he looks like when he’s happy.

“You don’t know his name?” Steve is in disbelief, and then he winces, and you think he’s been kicked under the table. Abruptly, you laugh.

It rings out. A few people turn and stare, but you brush it all off with another smile.

He’s still staring. You don’t mind it.

The paintbrush in his hand is suddenly unsteady.

“My name is Bucky,” he says, slowly and loudly enough for you to make out the sound of his voice, for the first time ever.

He is definitely bothered by you asking, his mouth drawn tight, and you can’t even take the time to appreciate how cutesy his name is compared to his demeanor, because oh hell. It’s going to be difficult to keep up this whole dislike thing, if his voice sounds like this, low and rough and gritty like sandpaper, pleasantly grating over you and your skin…

You have to consciously remind yourself to keep on smiling.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

Things should feel different, but they don’t. Nobody really reacts- everything resumes as normal. Steve focuses on his panting, adding delicate brushstrokes to the branches of a tree. You linger for a moment, and then get up from the table and flutter off to someone else.

For every class, you wear this kitschy apron, paint-stained, with strings tied in a hasty bow against your back that Bucky always aches to even out. Someone tells you something, and you respond eagerly, fully phased out of the past incident.

He stares until he realizes he’s staring, and then drops his eyes back down to his paper.

Steve wanted to attend this class for a number of reasons- he was bored and wanted something to occupy his time, he wanted to revisit an old hobby, he wanted to learn from you- some hip, emerging artist he’s a fan of, whose work he’s been following for a while now, who is seriously talented, although you have yet to prove it. He wanted to go do something separated from the events of his regular life.

So much wanting. Bucky wants to know why you’re so indifferent.

He doesn’t know if it’s a good thing that you didn’t know his name, or that you didn’t flinch or gasp or accuse him of something, or pointedly look at his left arm. Should he be thankful? Steve is clearly thankful, already loosening up, freed of any lasting tension.

Bucky just feels wary. You’re unsettling.

You come back over to their table one more time. The sleeves of your shirt are pushed up, and there’s a smear of something dark on your forearm, ink or paint. On one wrist you’re wearing a  bracelet made of braided leather. On the other you wear a bulky digital watch.

Practical.

“Everything okay?” You ask, as if something not okay could potentially have happened, in your forty-five minute absence.

Steve fixes you with a friendly smile. Bucky can’t ever bring himself to do the same.

“Yep,” Steve says, and you nod your head, clearly relieved.

“Great!” You glance at him for a spare second, and turn away again.

Everyone he knows is so guarded, walls built high and doors barred shut. Except for you, if Bucky can say that he knows you, the perky art instructor, Steve’s favorite artist. You’re confident and flippant, and that should be a bad pairing, but somehow you can carry yourself within it just fine. Always purposeful in the space you occupy, not reacting to the knowledge of his and Steve’s major, momentous identities.

Bucky wonders, idly, as he blots water over what you so generously called a pattern, why you didn’t.

It’s not like he wants you to acknowledge it, wants you to call him a war criminal or a Rusisan spy. He just wants you to-

He doesn’t know.

The class goes on. An older couple sitting a few tables away have caught your attention, chattering on and on about their personal lives.They have a pet cat that their landlord doesn’t know about, and when they retire they want to move to the seaside in Italy, and in May their son is going to graduate high school.

“High school?” You gasp, loud for no reason. “I hated high school.”

Before the class ends, you take your position at the front of the studio, and talk some more. He knows it’s part of your job, but you are excessive.

There’s an art exhibition going on at some museum, and one of the featured artists is an acquaintance of yours, and on Saturday the admission fee is discounted, and if anybody is interested, you have a stack of flyers on the center table. And you hope that everyone has a good week.

You look at Bucky while finishing up your little monologue, giving a half-smile that’s for the whole class, but seemingly only directed at him. He blinks slowly, and when he opens his eyes again, you’re looking somewhere else.

***

“Morning, pal, you ready to go?”

Steve gives him a hopeful smile as he peels an orange.

Bucky’s hair is still wet from his shower, dripping water onto his shirt. It’s early, too early to go anywhere. He doesn’t even know why he’s awake- usually after his wake-of-dawn runs, he falls back asleep, or lies down and just stares at his ceiling, thinking, until he grows restless enough to get up and do something. But today, the restlessness came much sooner, so he got up much sooner, and it might already be a mistake.

He takes a seat at the kitchen island, next to Sam, trying to think of something that Steve might have had planned for today, and coming up completely empty. “Go where?”

Steve looks hurt, for a brief second. “The exhibition at the museum, remember?”

Oh.

That.

“I’m not going to that,” Bucky says, harshly enough for it to be dropped.

Steve does not drop it. “Hey, come on. Just look at it.”

From his back pocket, Steve pulls out a flyer, one of the flyers you had out on Monday, folded up in a neat square- when did Steve pick one of those up? He holds it out, and Bucky, wishing he was asleep again, takes it.

He unfolds it, and the words are written in tiny letters, and the few photos on the paper are in color but too grainy to make out, and it gives him a slight headache, but he pretends to look it over. Sam leans into him to see it, loudly crunching cereal in Bucky’s ear.

“Looks cool, Rogers,” Sam says, and Steve grins, and now Bucky is the bad guy in the situation, for not wanting to go, even though Sam isn’t going either.

Bucky passes the flyer back without reading a single word.

“I’m not going,” he says, again.

But Steve is relentless. He sets the orange peels aside and gives him a look, and Bucky can already feel his resolve starting to crumble, and it’s kind of pathetic, really. Does he not understand that Bucky is already doing as much as he can?

“Why not?”

He picks the easiest answer.

“I don’t want to.”

Steve’s brow furrows as he splits the orange into two, giving half to Bucky. Sam slurps the milk from his cereal bowl.

They’re all blissfully silent.

“Come on, Bucky,” Steve says suddenly, almost begging. “I really want to see it.”

“I don’t-” He falters, he’s losing the battle. “How many people are there gonna be?”

Steve lights up. Bucky tries to stay indignant, tries to keep his face twisted in dislike, but it’s difficult with Steve. He’s always so full of optimism, has so much of it that it spills out through the seams, rubs off onto whoever’s closest.

“Not that many,” Steve says, like a promise, shaking his head. “That’s why we should go now.”

“Will she be there?”

Sam perks up.

Steve frowns. “No? Or wait, maybe. It’s a public place- I don’t know. She could be.”

It’s miles off from the answer he wants, but again, for Steve, he’ll take it. Bucky ignores Sam leaning across the counter like an idiot and asking “who’s she?” and eats his orange slices in silence.

***

Huge, bulbous heads, and beady little eyes. The limbs are long and wavy and contorted in the weirdest positions, seas of arms and legs and joints, women twisted over each other in gnarled embraces, a man with his arms twirling over and over again around his own torso. And the colors- a complete eclectic mess of everything- blue, red, yellow, green, purple. Everything.

You walk through the museum floor one, two, three times. The paintings on display are unsettling and ugly, and you’re on the verge of tears.

They’re gorgeous. Pain thrown on a canvas, told through canvas. It’s overwhelming- you’re overwhelmed, and you can’t do anything else about it. The museum just opened and there’s barely any people around- you can wallow in your sadness as much as you want to, for now.

Or maybe you’ll wallow in your frustration, instead.

This… you want to create like this.  

But you don’t have it.  

It being an impossible, nearly unattainable type of pain, or misery or anger or any other emotion so strong and visceral that you could translate it into something like this, something that evokes something else from other people. From an audience.

You might have had something like that once, but that’s all too far behind you now. Forgettable. What you need right now is an idea, a spark of inspiration, a single coherent thought. A confirmation that you aren’t completely lost.

You wander back to a painting in a far corner, all alone in a small alcove. A red woman, with her head nestled in green grass and legs wrapping around the sun, quite literally head over heels for it. Her mouth is wide open, gaping, calling, wailing, maybe. She has a hooked nose and a mole on one of her arms, and her white dress has fallen down to pool on the grass, and her legs are lithe and unshaven, prickly like the grass, just like the yellow spikes of the sun, drawn almost comically.

How do you even- how do you even come up with things like this?

By living an interesting life, probably. Through not being boring.

You stay there for a while. Long enough that more people start to file in, pretentious art students wearing all black, eccentric people with awesome haircuts, tourists. They peer over your shoulders, awkwardly, waiting for you to move. When you don’t, they leave you to be, giving you a rude look or two that you pay no mind to. There’s space on either side of you, if they’re so desperate to see. Sidling up right against you is kind of weird, but you’ll excuse it, for this painting.

Eventually, you realize that you should probably get going.

You’ve been standing so long that your legs are starting to ache, and there’s countless other Saturday errands you have to run- doing your laundry, buying groceries, calling up your mom- boring Saturday things to do.

You leave the red woman, regrettably. The fabric of your sleeve comes back dry when you wipe your eyes, even though you feel fully washed away, feel like you’re floating as you drift over to the elevator.

The doors slide open and a few people file out, and then it’s empty, thankfully. You step inside, press the button for the ground floor, wait for the doors to fully close-

“Wait,” a voice calls.

You’re not rude- you press the button to hold open the door.

When it fully opens, Steve steps inside, followed by Bucky.

You’re still out of it. You don’t even realize who they are, not until the doors have slid shut and the floor jolts as the elevator starts its descent and they’ve been staring at you for a solid five seconds.

“Oh, hi,” you say, after too much silence. You need to get yourself together. “You guys came!”

Put a little pep in your step! And more joy in your voice- nobody wants to listen to someone so drained.

Steve shrugs. “I wanted to see it.”

Bucky just smolders, clearly saying with his silence, “I didn’t.”

“Did you like it?”

Steve considers your question. The elevator stops at another floor and the doors slide open, but there’s nobody waiting to step inside. You wait for Steve to gather his words together, sure that he’s trying to come up with a nice way to voice whatever he’s thinking, which is definitely not nice. There’s no way that he liked the art, not one chance.

“It was… intriguing,” he says, at last. Neither of them are wearing hats today, because the museum doesn’t allow it. Even in this artificial light, his hair shines, golden-blond. “Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you say, without wasting a second. “The one of the red woman- it’s probably the best thing I’ve seen all year.”

“It’s only January,” Bucky grumbles.

His voice shocks you, sends an ice-cold jolt up your spine that you definitely dislike.

Steve turns to him, peering over your shoulder, surprised and disappointed. The two of them have a silent conversation with their eyes and you stand in the midst of it, waiting for the goosebumps to settle back down, waiting for the chill to go away.

It’s difficult- he clearly doesn’t like you, either- and even if he has his own troubling little backstory, which you don’t care enough about to google, it’s not justified.

But…

It almost makes his aggression... amusing.

“It is January,” you say politely, dismissing him. “Great observation.”

The elevator reaches the ground floor and the doors side open. You exit in step with Steve, with Bucky right on your heels.

You all stand around in the museum lobby, a wide hallway down from the giftshop and a small cafe.

“Are you headed out?” Steve asks. He puts his hands in his pockets, feet planted wide.

Bucky crosses his arms. He’s wearing all black. If it were anyone else, you would make a joke- he could almost pass off as a pretentious art student, if the outlines of his body weren’t so visible through his clothes, all taut muscle and sharp angles. His hair curls over his shoulders, prettier than anything you’ve seen on any girl.

These guys are Avengers, you think, and proceed to push the thought away.

They look so… un-Avenger-y.

“Um.” You press a hand against your forehead, trying to formulate a response. Chores suddenly seem miles away, the last thing you should be doing. You have all of Sunday to complete them, anyway.

“I was going to get something to eat from the cafe first,” you say, nodding over in its direction. “You guys wanna join me?”

You don't know why you look at Bucky when you say it

“Sure!” Steve says, all cheery, still standing alongside you. He smiles and his teeth are pearly white.

Of course his teeth are pearly white. Dentists everywhere are probably cowering, clutching their little metal instruments for dear life.

Then he hesitates, and turns to Bucky. “If you have nothing else to do, I mean.”

Bucky pauses. You and Steve both stare him down.

“They have these raspberry-almond muffins that are to die for,” you say, like it’ll convince him.

He rolls his eyes. Bored and still gorgeous- if only.

“I’m free,” he says, and you don’t know why he looks at you when he says it.

You pay the bored teenager working the cash register with cash. He gives you your change, and when he turns away to prepare your order, you shove half of the bills and all of your coins into the tip jar.

Bucky sits at the farthest table with Steve. His knees can barely fit underneath it, and the tabletop is sticky, and he’s now willingly spending more time here, and with no disguise there is no way that he isn’t going to be recognized by someone, and he doesn’t know why he hasn’t fully booked it yet.

Because…

He doesn’t know.

Maybe because you’re not asking for anything from him, aren’t minding that he’s sullen or unapproachable or anything else- his presence seems to be enough for you, which is bothersome, and at the same time, mildly exciting.

“Are you having fun?” Steve asks, while you smile at the teenager handing you plates of muffins, little glasses of some milky-espresso-coffee drink.

“What do you think?” Bucky asks, while you start your journey back to the table, and Steve opens his mouth to respond, already bothered, and Bucky’s already guilty, but then Steve hops up to help you carry everything back.

You sit down laughing. Steve is laughing, too. The corners of your eyes crease and he can see all of your teeth, and you look at him for a split second, and then turn away before he can get a read on your expression.

He sits in silence, while you and Steve trade jokes and stories and easy banter, talking about art and local politics and all types of things he can’t bring himself to care about, things that Steve is relishing in. You’re witty, apparently, or at least quick enough to get a few quick laughs out of Steve, and Bucky would never say it, he’s barely thinking it, but he appreciates you for it.

And the muffin isn’t quite to die for, but it’s okay.

During a lull in the conversation, you break your attention away from Steve and turn back to Bucky. You look concerned, almost, still smiling but without showing all of your teeth, leaning towards him like you’re about to tell him a secret.

“I never apologized for before,” you say, and Bucky immediately sits up on edge.

Even Steve goes wary, eyes narrowing.

You suddenly give a long, weary sigh, and press a hand against the back of your neck, like whatever you’re about to say is going to be so tedious. “For my friend flipping out when she saw you guys- she’s literally crazy, she’s always doing too much- but on her behalf, I’m sorry.”

The silence following afterwards is deafening.

“It’s okay,” Steve says, after a long moment, while you’re still looking at Bucky- your eyes make his skin itch, and he doesn’t say anything else. “She’s not the worst that we’ve gotten.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything.

“Okay, great,” you say, and you slump back in your seat, looking away, back to your half-eaten muffin. You pick off an almond from the top and eat it. “Glad we got that out of the way. I just thought it would be weird if I didn’t say anything.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, so polite, even though you’ve done nothing to deserve his thanks. “Have you known her for a long time?”

“Yes, oh my god,” you say, and readjust yourself in your chair again, accidentally bumping your knee against Bucky’s, but not apologizing for it. He glances underneath the table, at your entire bare knee, visible through a rip in your jeans. “Rina- her name is Rina- was my college roommate for a while.”

“You went to college?” Steve asks.

“I have an art degree,” you say dryly, “which was… an okay decision, I guess. Sometimes I think I should have just dropped out and done, like, stand-up or something.”

You clearly don’t want to discuss it, leaving the last part as some sort of rhetorical joke. Steve takes the hint and nods, already closing the chapter, and you take a sip from your little glass, finally silent. The foam on the top of the drink sticks to your mouth until you lick it off. Bucky replies to it anyway.

“Why stand-up?”

You turn to him so fast that he almost misses you faltering, and give him a dazzling smile. He thinks of your bare knee under the table, and tries not to sweat. “Because I’m funny, Bucky.”

He doesn’t like how his name sounds when you say it. “Tell me a joke.”

“Oh, okay,” you say, and clasp your hands together. Steve is watching, rapt at attention. “Let me think real quick- oh, I have one. Which beverage has a black belt in karate?”

Bucky waits.

You wait, expecting something from him.

It’s Steve that has to say, “I don’t know, which beverage?”

“Fruit punch,” you say, exaggerating the last part, and Bucky just keeps on waiting.

Steve cracks a small smile.

“Let me tell you another,” you say. “What type of phone does a piece of fruit carry?”

Steve takes a few wild guesses. He’s enjoying this, and you are too, both of you feeding off of each other. “A phone-fruit. A fruit-phone. A frone?”

You shake your head. “A blackberry.”

Bucky doesn’t tell you that he has no idea what you’re talking about.

“Tough crowd,” you say, when he doesn’t react. “Don’t worry, I have more. Where do you go on red and stop on green?”

“Where?’ Steve asks, waiting, leaning forward in anticipation.

“When you’re eating a watermelon!”

It is not funny, it’s painfully unfunny, and maybe that’s why you and Steve burst out laughing. Bucky steals a glance at your watch, since he doesn’t wear one of his own. It’s nearing noon- how has so much time passed? Why is he still even here when he doesn’t even like you?

“Why are all of them about fruit?”

You look at him like his question is the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard. “What food is the best listener?”

Bucky just sits. All the foam in his little espresso thing has dissolved, having been left untouched. He doesn’t like the taste of coffee- too bitter, and caffeine doesn’t work on him, anyway. Maybe he should drink it, because you paid for it, and because you didn’t make a comment about old-fashioned manners or chivalry when Steve offered to at first, just shrugged and got in line.

He knows that you won’t care.

The drink sits on its own, glass beading with condensation.

“Corn is the best listener,” you say, without waiting for Steve to throw his questions or guesses at you, without waiting for Bucky to spit out another sentence. “Because it’s all ears.”

“That wasn’t funny,” he says, and glares at the spot beside your head.

You nod sympathetically, and he thinks again of the rips in your jeans. “I know. But it was about a vegetable.”

Oh.

You stare at him straight-faced, crossing your arms over your chest. Steve does the same, and then he realizes- the two of you are a bunch of kids, punks, juveniles- mocking his stature, pretending to be serious, somehow not offending him.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky says. “You’re…”

He can’t even help it. He looks back at you  and his face works on its own. He gives a single, dry chuckle, but he’s smiling, and dragging his hand over his face, scrubbing it off just as fast, but you still see it, and smile back and gently nudge his knee again underneath the table, and then turn back away again, and he’s still staring at your hair while you take big bite out of your to-die-for raspberry-almond muffin, already back in conversation with Steve.

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Monument Woman

Pairing: Marcus Pike x OC (Rosemary Carter)

Warnings: None

A/N:  Enter Marcus Pike, stage right

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tag List:

@zeldasayer​ , @beskars​ , @coolmaybelateruniverse​ , @the-feckless-wonder​ , @pascalisthepunkest​ , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501​ , @fioccodineveautunnale​  , @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ , @lilkermit14​ , @tortles   [please message me to be added or subtracted]

[PART 1]  [PART 2]  [PART 3]  [PART 4]  [PART 5]

Part 6 – Step Forward, Step Back, Find Your Partner Quick

Helen tried her best to console a distraught Rosemary as Officer Garcia spoke to several of his colleagues in the hallway.  Her screams had startled the director, who was already on edge due to the break-in and if the circumstances had been different, the look of surprise and horror on the officer’s face would have reduced Helen to peals of laughter.  But all the situation did was add worry to her shoulders.

For nearly two hours, the officers questioned Rosemary about the break-in, about the missing piece, and they kept asking if the museum had any enemies. As much as she wanted to say Fred Breyers out of pure spite, Rosemary kept her mouth shut – sure some people weren’t always pleased with some of their program or exhibit topics, but nothing that would result in the theft of an artifact or the physical beating of a staff member.  The two women were exhausted by the time the three cops left the building.  Rosemary laid on the couch in her office, a wet cloth over her eyes as the lingering headache from the attack ramped up under this new stress.

“Rose, are you going to be okay?”  Helen’s voice was soft, but unable to keep the worried tone at bay.

“I honestly don’t know.  That statue was the only thing missing.  I don’t know if I’m upset because I promised Robert we’d care for it or mad as hell that accepting that ugly ass hunk of bronze led to all of this and possibly hurt the museum’s reputation.”  She sighed heavily, the now cool cloth doing little to help her.  She slowly sat up, swinging her legs over the sofa’s edge.

“I wouldn’t worry about our reputation.  I’m already working with Marquetta on a press release to get ahead of the game.  Louis over at the Caller always does right by us, I’ll give him the scoop first and he’ll spin it in our favor.”  Helen leaned back.  “I’ll also call major donors today to inform them of the situation.”

“I’m sorry, Helen.  I never thought this would have happened!”  The younger woman groaned heavily as she tried to stand, but the director held out her hand to keep her from getting up.  The body stilled.

“Did Francois’ report show anything differently than what Robert had given you?”  Before Robert’s health worsened, Rosemary contacted an old friend of hers to appraise the piece as Helen wanted a second opinion for the insurance company.  The in-depth discussion about the findings with Helen was moved back first by Robert’s death and then the attack.  “Are we still looking at the same value?”

“I reread it the day before the attack to prep for the meeting that never obviously happened, and he seems to agree with the assessment Robert gave us. The statue was processed into the collections several months ago and I put in Robert’s information, but never got around to putting in Francois’ report.”

“Well, so long as the original value was imputed into the report, it’ll give us something for the insurance company.”

“Are we going to report it lost?  What if they recover it?”

“Rose, I don’t mean to sound mean, but I doubt these officers are going to find the piece.  Whoever has it is probably long gone by now.”  Helen glanced over at her.  “Unless a miracle happens.”

“Well good thing I believe in manifestation and miracles.”  For the first time in what seemed like a long while, Rosemary smiled as her old humor began to shine through.  The director smiled back, unable to let the infectious comment not affect her.

“We’ll see.”

---***---

Two Weeks Later

“Pike!  Get in here!” Carmichael’s voice carried through the small cluster of offices their department occupied.  “Pike!”

“I’m coming!  Damn, give me a second!”  Pike grumbled as he scurried from his office and across to hers.  She wasn’t a loud person, so the excited shout she gave had everyone around her curious.  As Pike entered the room, he could see his partner standing behind her desk, doing a little hop-dance.  He raised an eyebrow.

“You need to look at this!”  She pointed at the computer, her smile so big it nearly took over her face. He stopped because she was giggling, Carmichael never giggled.  Whatever this was, it had to been good.  Pike came around the desk and bent down to see what she was looking at and when his eyes landed on the screen, his eyes bugged out and his jaw dropped.

“This is one of them, isn’t it?”  Carmichael asked, her voice quivering in excitement.  He ran out of the office to the command center for the cold cases, his presence startling his crew.  He looked over at the evidence board and ripped off a picture hanging in the middle before rifling through one of the boxes to find the corresponding file. He ran back to the office.

The picture in his hand was faded with time, that grainy look of age that pictures older pictures were taking on, but despite those flaws, the sculpture in the photo matched the one in the new alert in the NSAF database.  The Cornucopia had always been breathtaking.

And it’s been missing since 1993.

The agents glanced over the dossier, reviewing the piece to try and discover how this priceless Russian artifact made its way to what looks like a small museum in Western Michigan.  Neither had reviewed the original case file closely and both felt their jaws dropping as they read further and further into its history:

A rare example of the early Ukrainian Avant Garde art movement, The Cornucopia was created by Artem Chumak, a well-known artist from Odessa. Commissioned by the then-governor of the country as a gift to Czar Nicolas II in 1907, the piece was designed to showcase the entirety of the Ukraine in a single moment.  Because the country was known for its agriculture, Chumak chose to use the image of the cornucopia as his inspiration.

The piece is made of bronze and inlaid with the following precious gemstones:

               Siberian diamond

               Ural sapphire

               Ural ruby

               Ural jade

               Russian emerald

               Russian opal

               Ukrainian pearl

Upon the fall of the Russian empire in 1917, Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna Romanov took the piece along with several others from the royal art collection when she fled Russia.  She remained owner of the piece until 1920, when she sold it to the Grand Duke of Luxembourg.

In turn, the Grand Duke loaned the piece to the National Museum of History and Art and it remained with the museum until the outbreak of World War II. The ducal family took the piece back, along with several others to protect the collection from the advancement of the Nazis.

Unfortunately, the move did little good and much of the museum’s collection, including the pieces stored in the ducal family home, were taken by the Nazis, with intention of destroying them as part of the Germanization of the annexed country.

The pieces remained missing until 1949, when a team from the Monuments, Fine Arts, and Archives program (a.k.a. the Monument Men), recovered the stolen collections in a cellar in Hamburg and returned them to their respective homes.  The Cornucopia was returned to the museum and was on display until the ducal family attempted to sell the piece in 1965.  The sale failed and the family remained owners until the piece was loaned to the Luxembourg-American Cultural Museum in the U.S. in 1992.

In 1993, the piece was stolen from the museum and reported to the FBI’s Art Theft Squad days later.  The piece has yet to be recovered despite the best attempts of the team.

Pike looked at Carmichael and they grinned at each other.  While it being reported as missing didn’t mean that they had found it, it did mean that this cold case was heating up.

“Do you think we found our key?”  He didn’t want to sound hopeful, but he had to admit he was optimistic that they were much closer to solving this case.  The evidence they had been sifting through meticulously was painting a picture, but like a jigsaw puzzle, they were still missing pieces that brought it all together.

“I think we have.”  Carmichael replied.  They grinned at each other.

“Whose turn is it to go and do the interview?”  

“Mine, but could you do it?  Marty is out of town on business this week and I can’t leave Dinah alone.”  She rarely asked to trade like this, but Pike held up his hands in understanding.  They smiled, grateful they were partnered up, their work relationship had always been a smooth one.

“Sure, what could possibly happen in Michigan?”

They laughed as they started to walk to the command center.

---***---

Rosemary and Banana walked into the house, both exhausted from the day, the museum’s annual fall field trip event a cacophony of noise and excitement. The program had been exactly what Rosemary needed – something that distracted her from everything that had happened over the last month.  Her stomach hurt all day from her laughter as young kids swarmed the museum in their Halloween costumes.

As she hung up her coat, she caught something out of the corner of her eye on the kitchen table.  Walking over, Rosemary immediately recognized Fern’s loopy handwriting.

Hey sweetie, probate hasn’t cleared yet, but I heard word it should within the month.  Not to jinx it, but welcome to Saugatuck – its’ about time!  I’m also including some keys to Robert’s safety deposit boxes for safekeeping.  You can’t open them until the probate has cleared, so don’t get ahead of yourself! Love you, ae-in.  Always.  -F

“Oh, thank god.”  She huffed as she opened the bulky envelope, dumping out various keys and paperwork, including the deed to the house and the store.  She had an underlying fear that something would happen, and Robert’s wishes would have been overturned and she would get nothing.  “Looks like we’re here for the time being, Baba!”

Rosemary read through the papers and picked up her phone to call Fern. For the next hour, the two women chatted about the changes, what she needed to do to register ownership with the state, and more.  After they said their good-byes, Rosemary pulled her jacket on and patted Banana on the head as she left the house.  It was dark now, but she knew the path through the cemetery and trudged up the hill towards Robert’s grave with no problem.

“You know, I’m certain you chose this spot for some reason or another, but I think it’s to punish me for not getting enough exercise.”  She groused at the polished granite, wondering how she made this walk as often as she did, and it still robbed her of her breath. She was out of shape.  

Robert’s cheeky grin beamed from the porcelain cameo embedded into the stone.  She had never seen anything like it, but he had told her it was common among Eastern European communities.  He described how they used this horribly unflattering photo for his aunt Ionna’s cameo and that he vowed he’d choose his own rather than leave it to his relatives to decide.

She sat down on the damp ground and settle in.  She was still visiting the cemetery daily and while she didn’t cry as much as she had in the beginning, her throat always felt painful after she left.  Wrapping the coat around her tightly she sighed.

“You missed our field trip day.  I know you loved volunteering for it and the kids who remembered you from last year asked where you were.”  She smiled. “I told them you were attending as a ghost and that they couldn’t see you.  I think they believed me.

“I don’t know what strings you pulled up on that cloud of yours, but Fern thinks the probate will clear next month.  I’m glad, this whole process has been a pain and thank you for not making me go through it.  I’d give up and just die if Fern weren’t in charge.  My landlord was mad I’m breaking my lease, but I know you’re excited, you always hated that place.”  She sighed as a wave of sadness washed over her.

“I miss you.”  Her voice crackled with tears.  “I miss you so much, Robert!  I hate that you’re gone.  I hate that! I hate this!  And I failed you!  They still haven’t found the statue and I contacted the FBI and I haven’t heard anything, and I don’t know what to do!”

She cried harder, her ribs hurting as if the pain she experienced weeks ago was still fresh.  She gripped her sides as she continued to sob.   She was tired and everything that had happen in the month and a half since Robert died was catching up with her.  Rosemary sat in the cold evening for hours and let her sadness out.  When she finally left, the exhaustion she felt forced her straight to bed when she arrived at the house.  In a bit of mercy, she slept a dreamless sleep for once.

---***---

“Good morning.”  The deep voice caused Marquetta to turn from the display case she was working on.  A tall man with brown hair and a kind smile stood at the front desk.  She watched as Bob ambled over to welcome him.  She couldn’t hear their conversation after that, but she kept a subtle watch on the interaction as the two men talked.  The stranger smiled again and walked past her towards the stairs and she watched up trudge up each step until he was out of sight.

“You aren’t being very subtle.”  Bob’s voice sounded behind her and Marquetta jumped at the noise.  She felt herself grow hot, grateful her dark skin hid the blush rushing across her cheeks.  She turned to look at Bob, who was grinning at her.

“Who was that?”  She tried to keep her voice steady.

“Some FBI agent wanting to talk to Rosemary.”

“FBI?”  Marquette frowned before her eyebrows shot up.  “FBI!  Oh my god! They’re here!”

“Don’t shout.  It’s rude.”

“No, Bob!  Rosemary reported that statue that got stolen to the FBI!  That means they know about it!  They’re here for that!”

“Does that mean they’ll find the men who hurt her?”  He sounded hopeful at the idea.  Even if he thought her manners were lacking, Bob was deeply upset that Rosemary had been hurt the way she had been.  If this young agent can help find her attackers, he was all for it.

“I bet they do if they find the statue.”  The two stopped talking when Rosemary and Banana entered the building. She looked up and felt awkward when she realized they were staring at her.

“Um, is something wrong?”  She sounded unsure of herself and Bob got angry, realizing that these men didn’t just rob the museum of this ugly statue, it robbed Rosemary of her self-assurance.

“Never, Rose.  There is an agent from the FBI in your office.  Marquetta says you contacted them.”  She startled, not believing that her reporting the stolen item would bring them to her front door.  They were just a small history museum in Michigan, not the Detroit Institute of Art or the Smithsonian.  She figured she’d get an email or a call, but never a real agent.

“They’re here?  Really?” Her eyes lit up when Bob nodded. She started to laugh because she didn’t know what else to do.  Marquetta walked over to hug her and the physical contact help to ground her.

“He’s good looking, too.”  Marquetta whispered in her ear.  Rosemary pulled back at the comment. “Like really good looking.  His butt is cute.”

The two women giggled at the comment and hugged again.  Picking up the leash she dropped, the curator and her furry companion went towards the stairs, hope beginning to bubble in her chest. Maybe she hadn’t failed Robert after all, she thought.  When she reached the third floor, she stopped to catch her breath before walking down to her office.

When she stepped into the doorway, she saw him standing there, looking at her walls.  She couldn’t see his face, but everything about his presence radiated kindness – something she hadn’t expected from an FBI agent.  When he turned to look at her as she cleared her throat, his face lit up in a smile and she couldn’t help but smile back.  For the first time in weeks, she felt safe.

“I’m Special Agent Marcus Pike.”  He held out his hand to her.  She took it with her customary firm grip.

“I’m Rosemary Carter.  Welcome to Fort Jamison.”