#can safely say graduation was a good experience

[hplonesomeart]

We did it folks graduation achievement unlocked >:D

[notroosterbradshaw]

The Boyfriend Experience - Part 2 /2

7k words of Rooster being your super wonderful, pretend plus one! A few swears, but it’s the Navy, goddammit! The fluffiness should make up for it. 

The Boyfriend Experience 1 / 2

“Thank God you didn’t catch the bouquet,” Rooster rolled his eyes as you wandered back, bored. "Could you look any less interested?" he bit back a smile.

“I could, yes," you told him, patting his cheek with a gentle thwack as he chuckled.

”Well, you made sure I didn't have a run there to fake propose in front of all these witnesses. Left my fake engagement ring in my dresser drawer back at base,” he snapped his fingers. "Fuck."

"You'd have really ruined this wedding if you proposed. Even you must know the lack of decorum of proposing at someone else's wedding. You probably wouldn't need to go to those extremes," you laughed quietly.

He nodded and grinned. "I'd guarantee you a life of no more wedding BS though."

"You're probably right. How long you been sitting on that?”

"Just came to me," he admitted. "But you can't tell me it's not an amazing idea to get everyone off your ass."

"Thank you for not going to those lengths," you said as his head fell back and he kept giggling. Yes, Rooster was a giggler after a few drinks. And it was adorable.

Looking back at you, he said, "I guess we're almost done though. Since I have this," Rooster grinned widely, flinging the bride’s baby blue garter at your face. You flicked it right back and he caught it easily. He'd mortified you that he'd made such a spectacle to get his mitts on it earlier in the evening - he literally speared a dude to get to the front and leapt over the Best Man to catch it. "My Little League coach would be so proud today."

"You're the worst," you reached for his whiskey as he looked on proudly.

"You disappointed us as a couple and missed the bouquet to boot but I forgive you because you've graduated to a very sexy drink. That's my girl," he raised his eyebrow, waiting patiently for your sip, which you did gladly.

"You're such a dick," you could only respond, handing the glass back as he chuckled, putting the garter back in his breast pocket, patting it safely.

"Taken you 30 years to figure it out - that's more on you than me though," he teased.

"Last song of the night, friends," the MC of the band announced as Rooster offered you his hand. "Your bride and groom are ready to kick into matrimonial bliss part of the night and we all have to head home at some point!"

"You're not getting out of this. It's our last dance as fake lovers," he said, giving you the creepiest bedroom eyes, or you supposed, that you’d ever seen. How had he managed to bed so many women if that was his game, you'd never know (you assumed it was probably a lot less effort than batting his lashes, to be completely honest), and you shook your head with a smile. He stood to his full height and offered you his calloused palm. You naturally accepted, lacing your fingers through his. You loved the warmth his hands gave yours.

"Can you never say 'lovers' again?" you asked, spirited, as he spun you under his arm, leading you to the dancefloor, laughing loudly.

"Never," he promised as the song began. The band started Elvis' "I'm All Shook Up", most people in the room made their way to the dancefloor and Rooster praised the gods. You liked the song but loved the joy it clearly stirred in Rooster more. You adored how much he loved music, though he admitted he was never taught piano, guitar, or even drums but was pretty good at each of them, or he liked to think so. He played by ear and enjoyed experimenting with sounds. You'd romanticised Rooster playing at home in the quiet, just for himself, tinkering with keys, strumming strings. It made you kind of weak to think of him creatively like that. He was certainly full of surprises and you were yearning to know more.

He was unlike anyone you knew - you'd learned so much tonight and appreciated the human he was more than just the talented pilot most assumed of him, you thought maybe he appreciated people thought he was fairly one-dimensional, he liked his space and privacy. "New one to learn for the bar?" you offered as he pondered the question.

"Shit, maybe," he contemplated with a nod and he pulled you close. While not an incredibly slow song, Rooster actually moved quite well. Yet another thing you had learned about him tonight and he pulled your back to his chest, keeping you pressed to him, his hands spreading across your belly, keeping a respectful amount of space between your bodies. He took your hand and spun you back to him, facing the other again and he smiled slow, a smile you'd certainly never seen before but enjoyed thoroughly as his hands moved to the back of your ribs, dragging you closer to him.

He loosened a hand and put your arms around his neck, the height difference between you bringing your body crushed against him and it felt kind of... perfect.

"Thank you for tonight," you said, just between the two of you. He smiled faintly, his hands caressing your back. Once he'd found access to skin, his hand kept a close touch all night and your back felt cold without it.

"It's really me that should be thanking you," he admitted, lips dangerously close to your ear and you'd deny it, but it shook you to the core. Looking at him, your feet stopped moving and the world may have stopped too. Here he was, right in front of you, just like he always had been... but he was completely new to you now. "I haven't had a night like this in a really long time," he continued earnestly. "Almost felt like a real date."

You had lost the ability to talk, because thinking about it later, you'd realise, this was the first of many nights like this. But it wouldn't pretend anymore. He would be yours, and you would be his right back. And the pretence would be gone; traded for romance that didn't need to be held back, touches on skin that meant something because it was their skin you'd touched so many times before, still able to draw the same spark as it had tonight.

Rooster's lips met your forehead, leaving a lingering kiss against your skin and you held him just a little bit tighter. "I got you, kid," he told you softly but wasn't quite sure why he added, "You're safe with me."

And you may have believed him.

"Do you two want a lift?" Annie asked as the festivities started to come to a close. The bride and groom had left, guests were starting to organise themselves to do the same, the band was packing up and the music was over for the generic 'get the fuck out of our venue now' muzak. After your last duties for the evening to help Sarah's parents collect the gifts and load their car, you went back to the table to collect your belongings, thankful it was all finally over... as well as the evening.

It was a long day, and saying you were exhausted, physically, mentally... emotionally, was an understatement. Things were a bit muddled to you now and you were feeling a little unhinged at the growing flutters in your tummy while so close to Rooster. He was currently holding your bouquet and your clutch like it was absolutely no big thing.

"Rooster, I don't think you should drive. I can get you both back. I'm the designated driver for another three weeks and one day," she looked at her belly, accusingly. "Unless you'd like to come sooner, please?"

"Shit," he muttered. He had probably had one or two drinks too many, he realised. Palming his keys in his pants pocket, he replied he would just walk back to base. Wasn't at all far, he had his credentials. Fresh air would sober him up anyway.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, absolutely. Thank you though. I'm sure your little sister will get me back safely," he joked entirely for Annie's benefit. But your feet, your poor feet were shredded. You gave yourself kudos, you'd done the right thing and kept your heels on the duration of the day, but all you could imagine was peeling them off and preparing for the onslaught of blisters and discomfort as soon as humanly possible.

"Okay," she grinned. "Take care, Rooster," she hugged him and he hugged her back, trying to avoid her baby bump politely. "So good to see you."

"You too, Annie," he replied fondly. "I had a great night."

"Don't be a stranger when you're in town. Let's do this again soon. Come over for dinner, bring her," she nodded to you.

"I might," Rooster gave her a shy smile and Annie hugged him again. "I'm thinking of moving back so you may be seeing a bit more of me anyway," he said and your ears pricked up, this was brand new information and your palms may have clammed up a little.

"You should, everyone would be so happy you're home," she told him.

"Definitely thinking about it," he promised.

"Good, Please get my sister home safely?" she warned him.

"Of course, she's precious cargo," he smiled as Annie kissed you and waddled over to Arron, her extremely drunk hubby.

"I could have gone with that lift," you told him as you watched them leave. Your poor feet.

"Nah, you're okay," he said. "Let's go for a walk."

"Rooster," you protested. "I might cry."

Rooster pouted. "Then I'll piggyback you," he broke into a smile as a few of the single bridesmaids said goodnight to you both. "Come with me. Got an idea," he urged, nodding towards the door, not waiting for you and taking off in his strides in that direction. Moving as quick and gracefully as the heels would allow, you caught him at the door where he took your hand and you followed him to the beach. It was pitch black minus the moon's reflection on the water, nearing midnight when he stopped at the edge of the grass to sand and watched him unbutton his jacket to sit. You did the same. "Feet, please?" he asked quietly.

Confused, you weren't sure why you offered him your left foot, but his fingers made haste unbuckling the silver heel you had been wearing for hours and hours.

"Gentle," he told himself as he pulled the off, and held his palm out for your other foot that you gratefully offered, the relief almost instantaneous. Putting your heels together, he lightly pressed into the arches of your feet, your ankles, your calves, the pain worth it for a few moments, looking at you with a gentle frown to make sure he wasn't hurting you, but it was definitely worth it. "Okay?" you nodded as he slipped off his jacket and left it in a pile with your shoes, purse and bouquet. He unlaced his loafers, took his socks with them and cuffed his slacks up to his lower calf although there was little give to them. "Shit," he muttered, pulling at the wrong piece of his bowtie and knotting it tighter.

"Here, Roost," you said softly, sitting up to kneel, he watched you in keen interest as your fingers worked to loosen the tie. Knowing he'd made it worse before it unravelled under your touch, you smiled as he happily unbuttoned the first few holes on his shirt, showing a little of his strong, golden chest and a light smattering of dark hair.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "Up," he got up slowly, finding the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt and rolling both to his muscular forearms. He smiled, offering his hand. He pulled you up, your sore feet sending you careening into him softly. He nodded towards the water and followed you through the sand.

The night was cool, but in the height of summer, not unbearable by any stretch of the imagination. Stopping right before the waves, you looked back at him.

"I promise you, those feet will feel a million bucks in about 15 seconds," and he hitched you into his arms, taking you out to his knees, lowering you amid squeals of cold and a now damp skirt around your thighs. He didn't give you space, he stood behind you, his hands resting on your belly, chin on your hair. You felt him sigh behind you.

"Dammit, Rooster," you cursed him although grinning in the madness, trying not to shiver as the waves splashed around you. It was a little chillier in the water than you would have liked, but Rooster was close and he was almost radiator hot. "It's f-f-freezing," you chattered.

"It's the ocean at midnight," he said in your ear. "What were you expecting?" he posed a good question. "But your feet don't hurt now, do they?"

"Actually, I can't feel them... because they're numb," you replied, your toes thumbing in the sand beneath you, it grounded you and felt so familiar. You loved it, craved it. The grains felt good and if you squinted, you could almost avoid the slight needling of your feet as they started to relax and unwind.

"You're the water," he murmured to you quietly, his voice lower than the ocean's bustle around you. "I know I'm the clouds. But you're the ocean. You need it. I've always known that about you. I see you some mornings down here, in the waves if I run late. I never see a crease or concern on your features, you're just one with the water. It's pretty sexy, actually."

You wished he'd stop talking because as he adjusted his hold on you, leaving one hand on your hip, the other arm wrapping around your shoulders, you only reaffirmed how good you fit against him. "I love that," you admitted, taking his hand and he sighed again. He was right, though cold, this was your happy place. This is where you desired to be, in the water and the freedom and terror that came with it, how it could make you teeter so easily and push you out of your comfort zone. And he knew all about it.

Above you, Rooster smiled to himself. He was starting to really enjoy holding you close, learning the curves of your body, how you could find the perfect place to find calm in his arms. "Hey?"

"Hmm?"

"I had a really good time tonight. It... didn't feel forced or contrived. Why haven't you and I done this before?"

Because we didn't see each other this way before Natasha threw us together, you wanted to say. We can laugh, we can play and have fun, team against anyone and not think anything of it... but tonight has categorically changed our friendship because I can't go back to just being your friend, Rooster. I think it would be easier to lose you than find out you didn't want to be with me this way again.

You stayed silent, you had just tortured yourself with your inner monologue as it was. "You are absolutely shaking," Rooster said, softly, maybe now regretting his idea and his fat fucking mouth just a little. "I think it's time to get you out of the water."

"I'm okay," you lied as he rubbed your arms where he could see the goose pimples rise. He couldn't stop the shuddering even in his stranglehold.

"Out you get, kid."

You nodded thankfully. The adrenaline coursing through your veins was not enough to keep you warm and only caused you to tremble more. "Sorry," you said as he released you from his clutches and moved before he could say anything else.

And just like that, the moment passed.

Rooster sighed, watching you make your way to the beach. He knew he'd scared you. You knew he was opening his heart to you, and just like Natasha joked about your commitment fear, maybe it wasn't too far off the mark and that made him sad for all that you had missed and what you could miss out on. He began to follow you as you sat back near all the gear you'd removed, closing in on yourself. Rooster ran the last little while up the beach and retrieved his jacket, putting it over your shoulders. "You okay, kid? You're blue."

"Can't stop shaking," you could only reply and he swore he heard your teeth chatter. "But I'm okay."

"Come on, let's get you home," he tossed all the gear except the flowers into his jacket and tucked it under his arm then offered you his hand to help you up. He used a little more force, driving you into him and he wrapped you into his arms - he was very good at bringing you close and he knew, not once had you fought it. "I didn't want to scare you before. I'm sorry I was so forward."

You gave a little shrug. "Don't worry about it, Rooster. I'm just a big girl with big problems," you said simply.

"Do you think you know... why you don't want to get close to me?" he asked, almost not wanting to know the answer.

You looked up at him and he knew the kicker was coming. "You have I have very different daddy issues," you told him. "When my dad left, I thought he'd come back. For years I thought I could try and make him want us again... but my sister and I weren't enough and if he could leave us, who he was supposed to love so fucking easily, it doesn't give you much confidence as an adult. He picked another family over us, I have other siblings I don't even know. The shit sticks."

Holy shit, Rooster thought, his knuckles rubbing against your back. He paused and held you tightly. He didn't know that... hell, he did but certainly not to that deep an extent and maybe your issues were a little more deeply rooted than Natasha had alluded to. He certainly couldn't blame you for that.

"You mean something to me, and ruining anything with you would destroy me," you continued. "I appreciate our friendship and that comfort that brings me."

He nodded. It felt like a kiss-off, that was for sure. "I wasn't asking for the rest of our lives," he said quietly.

"I know," you pulled back, needing to be completely out of his reach. "But I just don't know what to tell you right now."

"And that is the end of our first fake date," Rooster said, hating to admit he was kind of relieved as you got back to your apartment. He followed you to the front door and wanted you to feel as safe as you could in his presence because you hadn't said it... but everything had changed, and he knew it too. He didn't expect the night to go like this, but he knew, like you... things couldn't be the same again now.

You gave him a gentle smile and his heart fluttered, he'd always loved your smile, but shit... it was his now. He left your heels neatly at the stoop. "I hope today wasn't a total bust for you. Now you know how good I am at ruining good things," you poked fun at yourself. "It's a wicked character trait."

He sighed, dropping his eyes. "Why would you think that being honest with me would ruin anything?" he had to ask, putting his hands in his pockets. "Don't you think I appreciate that more?"

"I dunno," you leaned back against the door as he looked back at you, chewing your lip and God, he wanted to be the one chewing that lip. Vulnerability to most people could be seen as a red flag but to him? You were telling him things that you'd never told anyone, and that was almost sacred and it would always mean more. He knew you trusted him, but made him uneasy that it wasn't with your heart. "Do you?"

He rolled his eyes, a faint grin on his face. "Yes. I do appreciate that more. I've learned more about you tonight than I have in the last 30 years, which is kind of awesome... and terrifying."

"Terrifying?" you repeated, a little disappointed as he stepped closer.

"If you think for one second that you scaring me is a bad thing, you are kidding yourself," of this he was certain. He wasn't scared to be out of his comfort zone with you.

You finally smiled and shook your head gently. "I had a wonderful time tonight. Thank you, Rooster. I owe you, big time."

"Don't be crazy. I drank top-shelf booze, ate more cake than I have eaten for years, and I got to spend my night with you. We'll call it even."

"Well, thank you. It really meant a lot. And it won't happen again, there are no weddings or other OTT celebrations in the foreseeable future."

"That's a shame," he laughed quietly.

There was a slight beat before your rationality kicked in. "Well, I should go in," you told him, pushing back off the door and reaching for your keys in your clutch. "I'm sure you've got an early morning."

"Class," he acknowledged.

You nodded. There would always be something. "Goodnight, Rooster," you said as you unlocked the door and took a step in before pausing. Rationality be damned. "Unless you wanna come in?" you called softly in the dead quiet of the night. You could see his brain working a million miles a moment.

This wasn't something you and Rooster did, you didn't hang out together this way, it was always in a group, always someone else to play the distraction. "Yeah, I really do," he admitted,  standing before you. The air around you had changed and you swore it wasn't just you that noticed it. For the first time tonight, his nervousness was evident and he put his palm on your cool cheek. Licking his lips, he admitted, "I really wanna come in," he said quietly, resting his forehead against yours.

His eyes searched yours as you pushed the door open and your hand found his. He followed willingly, quietly kicking the front door closed as you led him down the small hallway to your living room. Low lit from the lamp you'd left on for your late arrival, Rooster was interested to check out your place. Quaint, but it was quintessentially you. Linen in neutral and blue, a stash of books on the coffee table. A home. "Do you want a drink?" you asked.

Erring on the side of caution, he responded 'water'. He was starting to cut it fine of being in a proper state for the following morning and while he could take his liquor, the last thing he wanted was a hangover in an F-18. You came back to him with a cool glass and he gave you a small smile of thanks. He tossed his suit jacket on the end of the couch, finally happy to be rid of the silly thing.

"Do you mind if I get changed? This dress is clogged with sand, it's wet and damp."

"Course not. Go make yourself comfy," he said with a small smile as he watched you walk away before he preoccupied himself with the endless photos on your wall. A tasteful aesthetic of beautiful white frames with a mix of colour and black and white photos stored in them, he felt the love and consideration you'd put into the curation of images. And holy shit, if it wasn't you on his Mom's hip. You were crying and she was trying to appease you in any way she could. He took the photo from the wall and you wandered back a few minutes later, hair down, oversized Lakers t-shirt and you saw what he stared at.

"Mom said I had just been told I couldn't get an ice cream from the ice cream truck," you filled him in. Rooster actually laughed.

"That's the cutest fucking thing I ever heard."

"And Carole was trying to tell me she could get me ice cream from your place even though my mom was saying no, but I didn't want it anyway because it didn't come from the ice cream man. Naturally."

"That's amazing. This is about the last photo I would have ever expected to have seen, you know?"

"You can have it if you want. I mean, I'm a screaming three-year-old, but your mom looks absolutely beautiful."

"Always," he said softly and put the photo back carefully on the wall. "You keep it, it gives me something to see when I am here."

You shrugged easily and took a seat on the couch. He took a hint and went to join you, taking a cool sip of water to regulate. This was just not how he saw the night going. Sure, he was a man, he had eyes in perfect working order. He wouldn't lie and say he hadn't memorised every curve of your body, your smile and that absolutely devastating self-deprecating wit but there were plenty of other distractions in his wake. But here you were, right before him. And you, at that moment, were perfect but he didn't know what you wanted from him and it ate him alive.

"What time is class tomorrow?"

"Eight," he replied.

You gently reached for his hand, avoiding his eyes and tracing over the callouses and his lifelines. "I'm sorry about before," you said finally. "I am really good at finding ways to make a night nosedive."

He shook his head, laying an arm against the length of the couch in hopes you'd shift just a little closer again. "No, fuck no. Please don't apologise."

"You know more about me tonight than most people know in a lifetime. I'm really not the sharing kind."

"That... I knew," he with a smile. "I kind of figured we were a bit alike that way anyway. But it gives me a little bit of hope. I'll weasel my way in," he said confidently. "You'll regret opening yourself up to me," he teased as you laughed heartily.

"Using my trauma against me," you fist-pumped and he was so relieved you could see the funny side to it as he scooted a little closer since you didn't. "Awesome."

"I promise I never would do that," he said sincerely. "I have enough baggage to take everyone in this damn town out."

"That's true," you agreed. "What a mess we are."

"You're not a mess. You have your reasons, just like I do," he let go of your hand and reached into his shirt, pulling out his dog tags. "These have been driving me mad all night. Think they're imprinted into my chest..."

"Can I see?" you asked as he shrugged and slipped it over his head, gently putting it over yours and letting the tags jangle across your heart. You picked it up and looked at the imprints of his name. "Bradley N. Bradshaw," you spoke. "What do you think your parents were thinking when they gave you more or less the same first and last names?"

He laughed loudly. "Bradley was my mom's dad's name," he explained. "And it was the 80's. I guess they thought it just sounded cool. They didn't think of what it might be like for me at 34."

You grinned, tracing the bumps of his ID. "I forgot what these felt like. Dad's, Grandpa's. Having them in my hands like they were a toy, and what they really stand for."

Rooster didn't speak. He understood what you meant without having to go into it.

"Roost?"

He hummed in reply.

"Have you thought about settling down?"

"I've thought about it," he shrugged simply. "I haven't really found anyone who I want to settle down with. Last thing I want is something that doesn't last. I want to feel like my parents did - I can hardly remember it... but the way Mom spoke about Dad after he died? That's something to strive for, you know? I know she was sick... but she really died of a broken heart in the end," he said quietly.

Holy shit... you thought.

"When I find the one, I'll know," he added, taking your hand back into his and this time, he avoided your gaze as he drew circles around the pads of your palm. "I'm sure of it." He was sure of it.

"And here I was thinking you loved being a bachelor and the notoriety of the Navy," you said, and he appreciated the teasing as he laughed, scratching his neck.

"I mean, yeah. There are some benefits to not settling," lifting his gaze back to you, he pondered again. "I'm not really that guy that falls quickly."

You nodded, you knew what that felt like and you knew he was growing weary of sharing hour, so you decided to make things more interesting. "I've asked Natasha this and was not remotely surprised with her response. But I'll ask you too because I know you wouldn't lie to me... What's the greater thrill: flying... or fucking, Rooster?"

Rooster chuckled quietly. "That is going directly for the jugular," you saw his lips move, but sounds didn't follow through. "I love flying," he looked up. "My fate is sealed, but the right person? Jesus, fucking the right person could make you wanna give it all up, you know?"

"No, I don't," you pressed, your brain trying to decipher his answer. "That's why I asked."

He smiled, a small tint of red creeping up to his cheeks. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I think I like making you squirm," you said simply as dropped his eyes, coy all of a sudden.

"Oh, I get it now," he thought about it. "If it was life and death, I would, I can't believe I'm saying this... but I'd fly."

"Oh, my God," your jaw may have hit the floor. It just was not the response you were expecting but told you a lot about Rooster's priorities.

"As I said, if it was the right person..." he tried to over-correct himself as you bit back your grin, covering your mouth with your joined hands.

"I'm speechless," you continued to needle him.

"Okay, if this is the little game we want to play - " he announced, smacking the top of your hand.

Oh, fuck.

"My turn, then," he said straightening up and you panicked, and he grinned because he could see you were clearly panicking. "Why haven't you really settled? You could have found the guy that it could have all worked with. You're smart, fucking hilarious, beautiful. Now don't get me wrong... but for most guys, that's all they need. We're not overly complex creatures."

"Honestly?"

His hand that was in yours clamped down and was trapped in his strong grasp. "Honestly."

"I don't think I'm ever going to find what I'm looking for. I haven't found someone that can keep my attention for long enough."

He stayed silent, he wasn't convinced.

You grunted and continued. "I date. A lot. I am just not broadcasting how average these dudes are I'm dating. Why do I want to spend my time with someone with who I don't spark with?"

"Do you really have a problem with commitment?" he asked pointedly.

"No, I have a problem with assholes," you replied smartly. "You haven't settled down, do you have a problem with a commitment?" you threw back.

He rubbed his moustache and he considered his answer. "No, I'm content with not being ready to settle down yet."

"So, yeah. You kind of have a problem with commitment," you laughed as he nudged you.

"I realise I'm in my prime," he shrugged, giving his ego receiving a nice self-stroking. You didn't mind Rooster talking himself up, it was incredibly sexy, truth be told. He was generally pretty modest about all that kind of stuff and kept his business to himself but really, he wasn't completely unlike his friends and co-workers. He knew he good a good-looking dude, his voice could turn you inside out (you figured), he could command a presence fairly easily, and women were putty in his hands. It wasn't a lot of effort on his behalf.

Grinning widely, you snuck closer to him, sitting on your knees and he watched his hands fall to his thighs as you released yourself from his grasp. God, you loved making him writhe and he dared you to ask what you were thinking. "I'm not stupid, Rooster. I know you get a handful of numbers when we go out."

"How many of those girls do you think I call?" he asked, thoughtfully. He knew you were getting off on this, taking the focus off you and pinning it on him. He didn't mind, he knew you were enjoying this little game of cat and mouse, and you weren't really offended by any of his questions, so he couldn't be either.

"You tell me," you whispered.

He adjusted his posture and he took your chin in his palm, his thumb imprinting on your chin. God, you were right there, so close... desperate to be kissed. "I like the chase," his voice low. "But the chase isn't all that much a challenge much anymore," he admitted and his wrist started beeping. 4am. He needed to go. He silenced it. "Saved by the bell," he announced. "That's my alarm."

"And just when we were getting to the juicy bits," you sighed as he kept your gaze, a small smile on his face.

"We can continue this if you like. At a more respectable hour."

"No thank you," you said quickly and he chuckled quietly.

"I'm not surprised by that."

You smiled shyly. "Sorry."

"Fuck, you're so beautiful, do you know that?" he couldn't stop himself from saying. It just had to be said and put out there. Great, now it was done, he reasoned. You didn't break his gaze, you were daring him to make a move. He licked his lips and had to laugh. He'd already made the move. If you wanted him, he decided... the ball was in your court. Come and claim me, he wished.

"Roost?" you said again.

He raised an eyebrow in reply.

"Stay."

"No," he said, sitting forward. Fight for me.

You got to your feet and pushed him back against the couch, a small grunt bristling as you stepped between his wide legs. He reached for your hamstrings, his hands massaging against your bare skin as he raised his eyes to you. It was powerful and intimate and he didn't know if he trusted himself to be touching you like this.

"If you've got something to say... this would be the time to say it," his voice thick with desire, daring you.

"Stay," you repeated, your fingers coiling into his sun-kissed ringlets, giving them a gentle tug as he slowly licked his lips.

"Gonna need more than that," he told you, pulling you flush against him, helping you straddle him, his arms in a vice grip around you.

"Stay for me."

He bristled a laugh as you reached for a button on his shirt, dainty fingers making light work of the straining material over his chest. "Think I'm gonna just fuck you after all this?" he removed your hands, placing them back in your lap where he silently prayed you'd keep them because his strength was waning and if you tried really hard, you'd have him exactly where you wanted him. "You really wanna make this about a quick fuck and I just up and leave?" he shook his head. "I think you know by now I want a little more than that."

"What do you want, Rooster?" you asked, your fingers tracing his scars, finding one on his jaw you were particularly fond of and tracing it, feeling him tremor beneath you. "Tell me," you said reaching for the hem of your shirt and he knew he was going for martyrdom as he held your shirt down, whispering a curse. "You don't want me?" you asked, easing back just a little, shocked and a little more than embarrassed.

"More than anything. Can't you fuckin' see that?" he took your face in his palms and he could see your resolve crumble, breaking him as your eyes shone with tears. "That's why we gotta wait."

Your gaze dropped, you hadn't felt rejected like this in a long time. You didn't feel sexy, you didn't feel desired and you absolutely did not feel like he wanted you regardless of the apparent sincerity of his words.

"Listen to me," his voice raspy from alcohol and exhaustion. "Tonight, before tonight," he confided. "I've thought about taking you in every position my mind could imagine. But every one of them was crude and in my mind, pure fantasy. Why do you think I didn't even think about saying no to any of this tonight? All these years and all we have to show for us is a cheap fuck? I got a little more respect for you than that, baby girl. I wanna turn you inside out," he whispered against your skin. "Why do you think I never made a move before? If you give me the green light, I will absolutely pray to you."

You had forgotten how to breathe and he kept your eyes locked to his.

"I want to worship you," he told you, repeating your name like a mantra. "Don't you get it?"

The blood was pumping so loud in your ears that you were finding it hard to focus. You were drawn out of your stupor as his alarm started buzzing on his wrist again. He was getting later.

"I gotta go," he murmured, his face so close. "Just think about it, okay?" he said quietly, kissing your temple.

"That will be the problem," you confided as he hummed.

"I hope so," he helped detangle yourself from him, letting you stand although your legs were absolutely jelly. He smiled at you finally, thoroughly wretched, and all due to him. "So many things I want to do to you," he breathed. "But now, I gotta go." He'd been short on time before, but nothing as bad as this made him feel.

"I'm not asking you to stay again," you threatened pathetically, and he heard the lies as clearly as you did.

He nodded. But he couldn't and he knew he didn't have to explain his duty... because of anyone who knew him, you understood this most. "See me out?" he asked.

"Okay," you murmured, following him by the hand down the hallway. You unlocked the door, and he pushed it closed again, leaving his palm and weight against it. You raised a surprised eyebrow.

"I just can't - " he closed his eyes, dropping everything he was holding and grasping your face tenderly between his calloused palms. "Please think about this."

"And if I fuck it up?" you asked, scared as reality started to kick in.

"What if I do?" he challenged. "Do we not owe it to ourselves to find out?"

You nodded, almost pained, pressing your hands to his chest because you needed the last few touches before he left you. "Yes, we do," and with that, his lips were on yours. Soft, unobtrusive, it felt like you'd been kissing him your whole life. Familiar and right, you didn't realise how long you'd been waiting for this. He was such a good kisser, and there was no going back now. The words were out there... his kiss had tainted you.

His hands left your face, tangling into your hair, it felt incredible. He smiled against your lips and lightly pulled back. "You only needed to say yes," he told you, holding your face, his warm hazel eyes dancing and he kissed you again, a little rougher this time, his large hands tangling into your hair, tugging at strands as they moved to your back, dangerously close to your ass. "I'm holding back so bad right now, because the second I give in, I will stay."

"Can't you call in?" you asked hopefully, reaching for his lips again, your hands drifting to his hips and his head fell back with a quiet sigh. He pleaded for your hands anywhere further north.

"If I don't front up today... every single person we know will know exactly where I am... and why," he said, voice laced in mirth.

You told him softly, "I will make it worth your while."

He groaned loudly, his body already ready and willing, pressed unyielding against you. "I believe you," he breathed. "The idea of being with you will be all I'll be able to think about today. God damn," he hissed, his alarm going off again. "Can I see you later?"

"I think that's a good idea."

He gave a small smile, pushing some hair from your eyes. "Good morning, fake girlfriend," he kissed you gently again, let go of you to collect his gear at your feet and forced himself into opening the door, stepping over the threshold purposefully. He leaned back and kissed you once more. "I'll call you later," he breathed, trying to gather some resolve.

"Tonight?"

He nodded. "Tonight."

"Okay. Good morning, fake boyfriend." But now... there was nothing fake about it.

"Oh, before I forget," Rooster pointed at you. You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe, the adrenaline of the evening waning as he started to wander away. "What are you doing the last Saturday of next month?"

You outwardly shrugged. At this point you didn't know how today would even pan out as he wandered back to you, lips painfully close to yours, his arms slipping around your waist again and you didn't want him to let go. "I dunno. Why?"

"I got a wedding invite through the week," he smiled kindly and you bit back a laugh. "Thought maybe you'd like to go with me..."

"Think you can keep this fake dating thing going until then?" you asked, caressing his cheek.

"I'm pretty confident we may not be fake dating then..." he said quietly, kissing you just one more time.

"Ballsy of you to assume."

He nodded. "Yep," his eyebrow quirked.

"Do you have to wear your dress uniform?"

"Yes," he sighed, recalling your first conversation.

"Damn. This suit is really good," you playfully teased him, knowing his dress uniform would likely bring you to your knees. White or blue, you didn't care. It would be utter carnage.

"I don't even think a dry cleaner would bring this back to its original glory," he admitted with a chuckle.

"Shame."

"Jesus Christ, I want to stay. Please tell me to leave," his eyes fluttered closed.

You smiled as he took a wide step back. "You'd better go."

He nodded, thankful for your push. "I'll see you later," he said and forcibly turned away, his feet taking him away from you and when he was out of your view, you felt the weight of his dog tags on your chest.

"Oh, shit."

masterlist.

A/N: Want to learn more about these crazy kids? Here we go! 

The Relationship Experience - prologue

[gynandromorph]

god this shit took forever to sketch. another NofNA emulation comic. it reminds me of the midterms in secretary, for obvious reasons, but Legend is sort of an inverse secretary situation, where she is exceptional at fighting, but wants to write.

let me see what i can remember...

PS, the blue-eyed black lemur, has been friends with Legend since their mutual first season at college, as mentioned above her reference sketch... they probably became more friendly after being paired up to peer edit each others' work. PS has since graduated from college and works as a markscraft. Legend frequently commissions PS to scribe for her, not only because they are friends, but because PS is one of the few markscrafts in the area who isn't a rodent. many primates go into law or medicine. mainly Legend commissions notetaking in classes -- she is too insecure to share her stories. PS has a more relaxed, informal personality, and i tried to get that across -- i think it's relevant to why she decided to become a markscraft instead of pursuing more intense study. still, i also tried to get across that they are good friends, not just scribe and customer, particularly with the amount of touching that PS does. the impulse to touch and groom is probably innate for her as a primate. there isn't as much information about her species, but in ring-tailed lemurs, lemurs usually only groom based on the strongest bonds, rather than more communal aggregate grooming as a sort of social currency. i honestly don't know what PS would need to note during finals, but i think Legend just Wanted her there anyway.

the bird, DL, fighting the squirrel, GG, is a grey shrike. i imagine him as an average student in the middle of his education, but i think he is in the class for combat purposes, because pressure point manipulation can be incredibly powerful, more so if from a less expected species like a bird.

mr. deciding is a much more serious, no-nonsense teacher, possibly due to his specialty. when you're teaching students how to explode a kidney with a handshake, you probably just play it safe and try to put the fear of god into them before any kidneys get exploded. i wanted this class to have a much heavier emphasis on safety of the participants than the class in secretary, with a more focused goal than "who can beat the shit out of each other better." i think the goal of fighting to show off knowledge here is still Fucking Insane, but it's just. their culture, i guess. you can technically "move" your pressure points, so being able to defend yourself by utilizing this knowledge can also show off what you've retained. the mouse next to him is a proctor, who is an extra teacher brought in to judge and often write for another teacher, but primarily as a peacekeeper and bouncer. in classes where a student can theoretically totally disable a teacher by just touching them once, the precaution is seen as necessary. the mouse is probably a combat-oriented point invocation instructor.

the mandrill, MK, is a first-season or first-year student -- i assume that one class, from midterms to finals, is a season, as secretary seems to start near autumn. midterms have snow, and finals are during early spring. anyway, that's tangential. i think he's very new to the educational system. i pictured him as a medical student. in his fighting style, i made him more defensive; he doesn't really know nearly as much about attacking an opponent in a fight. he does think at least about his opponent's most immediate reactions, but doesn't have enough experience with fighting to think ahead to the degree that Legend does. you can see him make the same mistake that Legend did against Machinations, which disables his non-dominant hand. needless to say, he will probably always be aware of headbutt proximity now. he attempts to use two factures in the fight within a style meant to evoke debilitating vertigo by manipulating the connection between the occular, vestibular, and proprioceptive systems. it's obvious that he created the style from his medical classes. it is fairly empty as far as styles go. interrupted facture: nystagmus, which causes the world to spin around the opponent by involuntarily twitching the eyes back and forth. second facture: strabismus, which misaligns the pupils, primarily impeding aim. denied by Legend because a honey badger does not rely on vision or a vestibular system as much as a primate does -- not something he really considered when making the style. factures that never ended up being used: pursuit, which forces the target to follow a spinning image of themselves instead of looking where they should; and mask's lasting, which forcibly initiates saccadic masking, suppressing the intake of new visual information altogether.

the large bird is a bateleur. the mouse is just a regular house mouse. the lizard is an ornate sandveld lizard. the opponent of the lizard is a common mole-rat, also called an african mole-rat (even though most species of mole-rats live in africa). the monkey god i'm not super sure but i believe it's just a vervet monkey. the other mouse is also a common house mouse.

GG is a second-year student, which is the last year for a rodent. i think she's been kind of aimless -- she thinks incredibly fast as a squirrel, and finds solving problems in the moment to be a much more successful endeavor than trying to plan ahead. she doesn't worry about the future and doesn't ruminate on the past much. she's aware that she isn't the best ever and doesn't apply herself as much as others, but it also doesn't particularly bother her. kind of ironic, given the aesop she slops onto Legend after the fight. i imagine that she will eventually choose the name Serendipity. i tried to write her lack of foresight, but compensatory quick thinking in both fights. like the shrike, GG is a combat-oriented student. the style she briefly introduces at the beginning is called fanciful flower's delightful blight. it is based on the deadly nightshade flower and its berries -- which are toxic, obviously, and a hallucinogenic. squirrels flick their tails for many reasons, and the most common reason is simply a default flicking to attract predators. their tails are designed to "deglove" easily; if a predator lunges for their tail, which is the moving part of them, the skin and fur will tear off, and the squirrel can escape. delightful blight utilizes the attention-grabbing flicking of the squirrel's tail as a nightshade plant to induce a trance-like state. the berries represent temptations so much more pleasing than what you ought to focus on. a nice berry and a flower to smell are so much nicer than struggling in a fight. even when you resist them, they linger in your mind, and "plant seeds" when the berry falls as self-restraint is worn down over repeated abstinence from the temptation. factures induce hallucinations and nausea. she primarily uses the base rodent style to fight Legend here, but also uses base squirrel style twists, which include more acrobatics, backflipping, and contortions.

the two things that really catch Legend off-guard use limbs that she doesn't have, and most opponents don't have -- elbows long enough to use defensively, and a long, rope-like tail. she is otherwise supposed to be fairly adept at analyzing what an opponent will do, usually a few steps ahead, related to her ability to fabricate narratives quickly. you can see her also come up with a lie for kicking GG fairly quickly... she was going to say the impulse was in her legs because she was trying to move away from GG's strike.

anyway if any part of this fight is like... unfathomable i can probably explain. i've already been typing for way too long, lmfao

[cupcraft]

Based on my own experiences with many emotionally abusive PI's and also being groomed by one, I wanted to make a list of things to look out for. I am speaking from my own experiences, but I do think it's important. I hope this helps you, for any fellow people in stem, in academia, in research, or in university. Some of the examples I use are ones I have either experienced personally, I know people who have experienced similar, or ones I thought of based on my experience.

Professors should communicate with you over email primarily, or school/work approved channels. It can be a red flag if they use your personal number to contact you and especially if they show anger or feel threatened you try to keep the conversations over safe channels (like your school email).

Professors should not be contacting you about personal things, asking you to be their emotional support system, asking you personal questions, love bombing you, talking to you "like a friend", etc. It is important your mentor keeps a professional boundary between you and them when you are their direct employee or student. I say this because I realize some people may say "Ever since I've graduated I am close and good friends with my old PI/professor", but what I am talking about is when you are their student and the professional boundaries are blurred and crossed. For example, a professor texting you "Hello can we change our meeting to 2PM?" or "How is your data collection going?" or "Good job at the conference. I am proud of you!" are examples of likely professional statements. Examples that are not professional and are inappropriate can be "I'm at a bonfire at my friends house, you should come by next time!" and "Do you like the picture UNIVERSITY just took of me?" and something like "How are you doing tonight? I'm have a beer and a good dinner, going to be a blast."

it is never appropriate for them to yell at you or belittle you. It is never appropriate for them to degrade or embarrass you. If you make a mistake it is your mentor's responsibility to communicate that you made a mistake and be clear about their expectations of you going forward. It is also appropriate for your professor to give you constructive criticism, to give you expectations and deadlines, correct you when you are wrong about something, and express mild or professional level of disappointment when you do something irresponsible (for example, working with a chemical unsafely around another coworker, if you say something unprofessional or inappropriate that warrants correction, if you do not meet a deadline for something time sensitive like a federal grant application, etc.) It is not appropriate for them to be disappointed or guilt tripping about human errors and mistakes. You should not fear being corrected by your mentor, you should not be afraid to admit mistakes, you should not feel like they have "good days" and "bad days" when it comes to these things, you should not be held accountable for things out of your control (ie the experiment fails and needs to be redone even though you made no mistakes and your technique was fine). You should never be yelled at. You should not be given critique with no solutions (ie your professor saying "You don't work hard enough" and then giving you no reasons or constructive reasons why, ie your professor saying "Your emails annoy me" with no reasons or constructive solutions to improving your communication). Professors should also not hold you accountable for things that are their fault (ie your mentor yells at you for not submitting something on time that they never told you was due or that they wanted within in a specific time). You also should be mindful that professor's like anyone else in your life should have appropriate levels of reactions to things, even more so with a professional boundary. For example, if you miss a meeting them screaming at you and insulting you and acting like this is the ultimate betrayal is not an appropriate reaction to that mistake.

Your mentor should not joke inappropriately with you. They should not tell you jokes that obscure professional lines or are concealed belittlement. Examples: "If you don't pass your test I'll whip you!", [sexual/romantic/intimate jokes of any kind]. "I was confused by your email, must be all the beer I've been drinking!".

Your professor should not be talking about other students, coworkers, and even other professors behind their back to you. Example, "UNDERGRADUATE STUDENT is so dramatic when she makes mistakes don't you think?", "OTHER PROFESSOR doesn't deserve to get grants, I can't believe you're taking his class", "YOUR COWORKER has been going through a lot these past few months + [proceeds to tell you personal & private information about them]"

The hardest part about school/research/academia should bet he work. It can be difficult and burnout is common especially when deadlines out of your control comes up and understandable (given that you are not being overworked). What shouldn't be difficult is the mentor you have. You should not be burnt out, depressed, or exhausted because of how your mentor treats you. You should not fear going to work. You should not have to lie/people please/perform to avoid a "bad day" from your mentor. You should not be made to cry, or mentally break down weekly or even daily or even ever by your mentor.

It can be a red flag if your professor insults you to your face but to colleagues/other professors/other professionals they sing your praises and over-compliment you.

Your professor should not ask you to do things that are unsafe or illegal. They should not ask you to do things that are OSHA violations, against federal lab safety guidelines (ie via the state DOT, EPA, EHRS, etc). They should not ask you to transport things in your car that could be unsafe, especially over state lines.

Maybe stem specific, but do not work in a lab that does not follow HIPAA guidelines, that does not follow the IRB, that does not follow the iACUC. For your own safety career wise + personally, this is not a safe situation to be in.

Mentors should not ask you things that are personal or private about you without you stating it first/giving the okay. Examples: asking about family, asking about health status and medications, asking about disabilities/mental health diagnoses, asking about sex and romantic life, asking about drinking and or drug use, asking intimate details about your outside friends and family, etc. It is not to say you cannot talk about these things, but they should not ask you and boundaries and consent is important here.

Red flag could be how your professor treats other students, even if you feel like they are "treating you well."

it could be a red flag if your professor overly rewards you or gives you intimate and expensive gifts. This is very much context dependent. Here's some examples from my groomer that I have catalogued as appropriate and not appropriate: When I was close to graduating he gifted me a hardcover book of a mathematical theorem we were studying, which I saw as appropriate. What i saw as inappropriate, was him giving me chocolates/cookies + intimate notes/cards for my birthday.

It is not necessarily unprofessional to have lunch with your professor or even other meals but again this can be context dependent (+ within your own boundaries). Potentially appropraite: "Hello. I need to reschedule our meeting for Noon? Can we meet over lunch?". Likely inappropriate (example from my own groomer): over text says something like "Rolls the dice...lunch? We can then walk around PARK NEAR YOUR HOUSE together."

Red flags can be that a professor starts to blur professional lines after you leave their lab or graduate, especially as these boundaries were pushed throughout the relationship.

Professors should be open to constructive criticism as a mentor and take accountability healthily and non defensively.

Professors should not be texting or calling you "off hours". There are some very specific situations this may be appropriate (Ie you are a graduate student and your professor who also does benchwork in the lab calls you with a lab related emergency regarding your samples (ie the freezer broke) or regarding safety if you are on the emergency contact list). They should not be calling you for personal matters/chatting you up like you are a friend/dating.

It is never appropriate to be asked to do romantic or sexual favors from a professor. It is also inappropriate for them to blackmail you

[youre-a-total--poser]

Don't Worry Mama (Request)

heyyyyy. Can you make a story which happened in age of ultron specifically in the scene where wanda messed up their head and they went to clint's house. Y/n is nat and steve's secret daughter, about 5yo (nat didn't go through graduation ceremony) and they both know about clint's family as y/n is staying with the bartons. At first y/n is happy to see her parents again and some other time, she notices that her parents mind always off and she asks them what happened. Y/n learned the truth about her parents' past and she comforts them (the fluffiest the better )

Warnings: There's one somewhere but I just haven't found it yet.

Age: 5

Word Count: 1,238

Requests: Open

Summary: Read the request and it will explain everything

Requested by: Wattpad User

Date: 03/06/2024

Paring: Natasha and Steve

A/N: Thank you for your request I hope that you like it. The story might not be the best, especially since it's the first time in months that I've written anything but I hope that it's still somewhat good.

---⧗---

The mission had left everyone shaken up from the unpleasant experiences of one of the Maximoff twin's abilities.

The journey to the safe house was spent in silence while everyone sat remembering what they were forced to witness.

After the Quinjet had landed they made the short walk to the house. Tony and Thor were asking questions about what this place was and Steve had his arms around Natasha keeping her upright while they walked.

"Honey, I'm home," Clint called out as he walked in the house and into the living room while the Avengers followed close behind.

A woman appeared who (not making assumptions) looked heavily pregnant from around the corner and made her way over to Clint

While Clint greeted the woman Tony and Thor were all confused about who she was whereas Bruce who just standing off to the side looking awkward and uncomfortable and Steve and Natasha gave off the impression that they somehow already knew who she was.

"Gentleman, this is my wife, Laura," Clint said.

Before anyone could say anything else the sound of running footsteps could be heard getting closer and closer. Two young children came running into the room and a third one followed seconds later.

"Daddy!" the two children shouted and ran over to Clint giving them hugs whereas the other child stood slightly away from them. The young girl looked different from the other two, they both had dark brown hair whereas she had ginger hair.

"Did you bring Mama and Dada?" The young girl asked. She didn't think to look around first because most of the time Clint came home without her parents they had to stay wherever they were to finish completing their tasks before they were allowed to come home.

"Why don't you hug them and find out?" Natasha said moving closer so her secret daughter could see her.

A large smile appeared on the young girl's face as she rushed towards Natasha, who picked her up in her arms and hugged her tightly. Steve came closer to them, put his hand on the back of her head and kissed her cheek.

Tony looked at the three of them even more confused than before. "How did I not know about this? Did anyone else know about this?"

---⧗---

As the sun set and the dark began to take over Natasha was sitting on the bed while Steve was in the bathroom finished helping their daughter get ready for bed. While Natasha was waiting she couldn't stop the horrible memories from replaying over and over in her head of what she was made to see.

Natasha suddenly came back to reality as felt small tugs on her pyjama pants. She looked down she saw her young daughter struggling to climb up onto the bed. Natasha picked her up and placed her onto her lap then wrapped her arms around her waist and gently rested her cheek on the top of the young girl's head.

Steve walked out of the bathroom and sat down on the bed next to his wife and daughter.

"Are you okay?" He asked Natasha as he placed his hand on her knee and gently stroked it with his thumb.

"I'm fine." She replied giving him a soft smile.

But, of course, she wasn't fine but by saying she wasn't she would have to explain why not and she really didn't want to talk about it.

Steve also knew that she wasn't but he didn't pry he knew better not to he just hoped that being back with their little girl in a safe place would be exactly what she needed to make her feel more herself again.

The young girl knew that something was wrong. Her parents especially her mom have been acting differently from the moment they reunited.

"Why are you sad Mama?" She asked turning herself around slightly so she could look at her mom.

"How do you know that I'm sad baby?" Natasha said as she tucked her daughter's hair behind her ear.

"Cause you're not happy." The young girl said.

Natasha let out a quiet chuckle at her daughter's response. "It's just work Y/N, baby, nothing to worry about."

"What happened?" Y/N asked resting her head on her mama's chest. "It can't be the bad guys 'cause you're good at stopping them, Mama."

"Am I good at stopping bad guys?" Steve asked his daughter trying to distract her from the original conversation so Natasha wouldn't have to talk about it, especially to a 5-year-old.

The young girl thought for a second and when the answer came into her mind a cheeky grin appeared on her face "Yes, but not as good as Mama." Then she started giggling.

Steve let out a gasp "What?" he asked then started tickling her.

"That's my girl," Natasha said tightly hugging her daughter and kissing the top of her head.

After Y/N had calmed down from laughing Steve had hoped that she would have forgotten the whole conversation but she hadn't she went straight back to asking questions. "So if not the bad guys then what is it?" Y/N asked

"Just something that Mama got made to see." Natasha told her knowing fine well that Y/N would ask more questions. "it's bedtime little miss."

Steve stood up and lifted Y/N off Natasha's lap. "I'm not tired Daddy." She said.

"Yes, you are." Steve then dropped Y/N onto the bed and she started laughing as landed on the bed and bounced slightly.

"Again." Y/N giggled raising her hands into the air.

"No," Steve said pulling the covers back.

As Y/N moved herself in the middle of the bed her parents got in at either side of her.

Once everyone was settled and the light was turned off Y/N let out a big sigh.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" Natasha asked.

"When I'm sad you ask me about it then you give me cuddles to me better but I can't give you cuddles till after you tell me," Y/N explained.

Natasha sighed. She knew that Y/N wouldn't let it go till she was told. "Okay Y/N if I tell you then will you go to sleep?"

"Yes, mama I promise," Y/N said.

Y/N cuddled in closely to her mother getting ready to listen to her.

Natasha started to explain very, very briefly without going into too much detail that would frighten the young girl about what happened during their later mission and about her past.

After Natasha had finished, Y/N climbed on top of her and laid down on her then Natasha hugged her daughter tightly.

"Don't worry Mama me and Daddy will protect you. We won't let those bad people hurt you again." Y/N said.

Steve moved over closer towards his wife and daughter and put his arms around them pulling them in close. "That right, hon, we'll protect your Mama always."

"Right, baby girl, it's sleep time now," Natasha said gently stroking her daughter's back.

For the first time since Natasha and Steve returned, Y/N had been silent.

"Is she sleeping?" Natasha whispered to Steve.

Steve carefully moved the hair out of Y/N's face and her eyes were closed. "Yes she is," he whispered back.

Steve moved over slightly and gently lifted up Y/N from Natasha and placed her back down on the bed.

"Sweet dreams baby," Natasha said softly then kissed her daughter's head.

"Night, babe," Steve whispered.

"Night, honey," Natasha mumbled back.

---⧗---

Taglist - @saraaahsstuff // @knox145 // @dogtamer415 // @romanoffliviv

Go HERE to be added to the taglist

[gallusrostromegalus]

Hi, if the asks for AEIWAM are still open, can you share some more regarding the 12th division transitioning to taking over R&D, thanks to Urahara? Did the other divisions take it well, were there fights over boundaries/responsibilities/secrets? Individual divisions holding onto research directly relating to their remits? And how did Mayuri taking over from Urahara impact relations with other divisions?

Urahara proposing a dedicated research and development branch was not a particularly unexpected move, and a wildly applauded one.

His predecessor, now-Royal-Guard Hikifune, had done extensive research and development on her own when she developed both the modern Gikon and the Mod Souls like Kon. The 4th was massively overworked but still doing their own medical research. The Kido corps had been doing their own R&D writ: spells for ages. The 7th division had been tracking death and soul statistics like where souls reincarnated in the Rukongai and who went to hell and why for centuries. "Science" is a very strong word for what the 11th was doing re: destruction, but by golly they were doing a lot of it.

So Urahara's idea to develop a cross-division group dedicated to connecting existing research and developing new lines of inquiry from there was an extremely logical step and one pretty much everyone regarded as a good move.

---

Everyone, except Aizen.

See, Aizen had been doing his own little experiments with creating and perfecting the Hogyoku and those experiments involved a shitload of murder and other crimes, not to mention the whole treason thing, and Aizen was worried that if Kisuke managed to say, actually collate and look over the Rukongai crime stats Aizen had been hiding or read up on the Kido corps work, he might be JUST smart enough to figure out what Aizen was up to.

So Aizen made sure that when they got caught, that the experiments he'd been running would look like Kisuke's work :)

I think Aizen also had a significant hand in making sure it was the literal clown Mayuri who got the job after Urahara fled. There were definitely better candidates to become the Gotei-13's quartermain, but I think Aizen either discouraged them, or figured out how to make Mayuri look way more sane than he actually was to the other captains when the vote came.

Mayuri was a disaster for R&D. Not only were his scientific methods dubious at best, none one the other divisions trusted him with their work, and all of them became a lot more secretive and paranoid.

The 4th resumed it's own medical research, which was slow because of all the other work the 4th needed to do as well. The 7th kept its statistics under lock and key lest Mayuri get funny ideas about killing people to measure things faster. This new cloaked way of doing business allowed Mayuri to engage in horrors that actively got in the way of progress. Like recruiting the top 10% of the academy's graduating class for his division and then using them as guinea pigs and/or explosives.

Aizen: All According to Keikaku :)

---

In AEIWAM, not all hope was lost.

Before he was a shinigami, Kaname Tousen was a Librarian.

It was all he ever really wanted to be- when he came to the seireitei it was entirely to investigate his sister's death. He had no intention of enrolling in the academy, or pursuing rank.

Aizen has a way of derailing people's lives.

By force, when necessary.

By pounding 44 magical nails into Tousen's spine and carving command kanji into his shoulders and inflicting a vile curse on him to force Kaname into being his co-conspirator, his own personal R&D, and his entertaining puppet, if necessary.

Well,

Maybe Aizen is having a little bit more fun than strictly "necessary".

Aizen might have cursed Tousen into silence and obedience, but he can't stop Tousen from keeping his own records. Meticulous notes about every excursion he is made to take, every crime he is forced to commit, every horrific act Tousen does through tears- everything is recorded, documented, and safely stored in triplicate in several locations and formats.

In fact, Aizen comes to rely on those records- Aizen is very good at Lying and Kido and Hubris but that is the extent of his intellectual prowess. He relies on Gin to keep track of what everyone else is doing, and on Tousen to do all the scheduling, lab work, provisions and actually keeping the aarancar in line.

And Kaname takes advantage to press the curse whenever he can- he was close, he was so. Fucking. Close! To getting the whole scheme exposed during Turn Back The Pendulum.

He tried. He tried and tried to say it when Yamamoto interrogated him, to confess his sins and bring Gin and Aizen down with him, to make himself understood.

-Who did this? Who killed captain Hirako?

-I know them! I know, but I can not say!

It's all Kaname can manage before the curse retaliates, and almost strangles him to death to keep his silence, invisible to Yamamoto because of Aizen's illusions.

---

...after the nature of the curse is revealed, Yamamoto listens to the recording of that interrogation and weeps. The captains are the closest thing he has to children. Yamamoto hears this man who is almost his son, screaming, begging him to understand -

Not "I don't know"

Not "I will not say"

"I know, but I can not say."

---

So Kaname bides his time, keeps his records and tries to distract himself form his situation by drawing what conclusions he can.

After the Winter War, there is some debate as to what's going to happen to R&D.

Mayuri is in a jar, battling for control of his body.

Nemu refuses to admit he's out of action. Akon refuses to be promoted.

Kisuke or whoever does run the 12 will be too busy shovelling leftover war crimes out of the basement to actually run R&D.

Yamamoto has a long-standing agreement with Unohana that if he makes her take on One More Thing, he will not get the privilege of dying.

Ukitake is running the Kido corps, but he's also already got a foot in the grave.

Yamanoto isn't sure he can trust anyone else with lab equipment.

" ...Tousen." he says, nonchalant, visiting him in the hospital. "You seem to be rather accomplished at record-keeping and lab work."

"Last time you promoted me while I was in the hospital after a catastrophe, it extended my recovery by a solid five years and lead to an even greater one. No. Tell Kisuke to buck up and run R&D, it was his damn idea in the first place."

"Yes, obviously." Yamanoto says as though he had been planning that at all. "-but the court guard still needs to be supplied, so if Kisuke is running R&D, who is running the 12th?

"Muguruma."

"Pardon?"

"Kensei Muguruma might be the second-worst boss I've ever had but he is rigorously punctual, has an incredible work ethic, and can be trusted to stick to rules and regulations to the letter. He's a rigid, grouchy, hard ass, and a terrible match for the ninth, but he'd make an excellent quartermain." Kaname sighs.

Yamamoto ponders that for a bit.

"Also, he's running the newspaper over my dead body." Kaname elaborates. "He's contracted horoscope brainrot from Mashiro, I'm afraid."

"He may attempt to dispute that he should be running the Ninth as his prior demotion was unlawful, as is his right." Yamamoto nods. "It would be resolved by some kind of combat."

"I've gutted him once, I'll do it again." Kaname grunts and Yamamoto barks a laugh.

"I believe your judgement is sound, and will abide by your recommendation." Yamamoto nods, patting Kaname's hand. "I will inform Urahara and Muguruma of their new responsibilities."

"...Thank you, sir." Kaname mumbles, listening to Yamamoto open his notebook and write something down. "For your trust in me, and not promoting me again."

"Hm." Yamamoto nods.

To-Do: Update last will and testament in regards to successor choice. He writes.

[pinchinschlimbah]

On "Coming Out" and Noel Fielding

I mentioned forever ago that I had this post in mind and then never got around to it, but now with the new interview quote I was yelling about recently it feels like a particularly good time to get it out of my brain and onto the page! tl;dr: musings on the concept of "coming out" as it has evolved over time, whether it's something that should continue to be necessary or expected of queer people, and why Noel is particularly inspirational to me in that regard since this is, after all, my brainrot blog. This may be extremely long and a bit disjointed but I hope some of y'all will enjoy it!

So a while ago myself and several friends were discussing the concept of coming out. All of us are some flavor of queer both in gender and orientation, but each is in a different place along their self discovery and identity journey, with some being long since out and proud, and others just starting to dip their toes into exploration past the expected cishet.

This discussion actually was prompted by a different discussion about Noel, spurred by comments we'd come across slamming him as being homophobic/transphobic on Bakeoff for making comments suggesting he has romantic or sexual attraction towards Paul, referring to himself with female-centric terms, playing female characters in the skits, and a particular moment where he brings up Old Gregg while talking to KimJoy and says "he was a sea transsexual....quite a demanding role for me" while laughing to indicate that that last part was said in jest. Hey fellas, is it homophobic/transphobic to be a little bit gay and trans? This got us talking about how the current culture of queer identity has evolved to the point where "coming out" feels more like something the public feels they're owed in order for them to view one's expression as valid, rather than its original purpose as something one does for themself in order to live most authentically. I don't think I need to go into detail about how many artists have been harassed by their "fans" into coming out before they were ready because people wouldn't accept the validity of that person's work without knowing exactly how that person identified, there've been plenty of articles and video essays and better written tumblr posts about that, but it's definitely a concerning trend. It can be particularly dangerous when it comes to people who aren't feeling confident or safe enough to come out, who end up being criticized and shunned by the queer community as being somehow problematic for not being able to fully articulate to a group of strangers the ways in which they're experiencing their identity. In this situation, the people who are struggling the most end up with the least support. Forcing people to either declare an identity or get out just leads to more people staying closeted out of fear of doing it "wrong" and never getting the chance to explore the most authentic and joyful versions of themselves, or even worse, feeling the need to out themselves before they're in a safe place to do so and suffering the resulting consequences. Questioning or cautious people deserve space in the community to experiment even if they haven't yet or maybe never will come out! My high school's Gay Straight Alliance was comprised entirely of "straight allies" when I was there. There was not a single "out" person in the school at the time. Nearly all of us in the GSA ended up being some flavor of queer or trans years later after graduation. But whether it was intentional closeting or just feeling an innate affinity towards something we couldn't quite pinpoint at the time, we all knew we belonged there and made that space for ourselves and others like us. Back when "coming out" first became a concept in the public consciousness, it was during a time where cishet identity was not just considered the default, but the only option. By coming out, queer people were giving genuinely revolutionary representation for themselves and others like them by telling the world that, as the old saying goes, we're here, we're queer, get used to it! Nowadays, we're lucky to live in a culture that is much more cognizant of queer identities being a thing, so in many cases coming out has become less about having to explain to those around you the basic concept of queerness existing, and moreso about which specific identity you fall under, and that's where things get messy.

My friends and I shared our own thoughts and experiences. One is currently identifying as "unlabeled" because they haven't found a term that feels correct yet, and therefore hasn't come out because they wouldn't know what to say. One spoke about how when they first came out they were much more insistent on what terms or pronouns people used for them but as time has gone on they've grown to find joy in being inscrutable and letting others wonder what they're perceiving. One expressed that given the state of the world they've been retreating somewhat back into the closet for safety reasons rather than being super outward with their queerness like they used to and is working on learning to embrace those parts of themself again. One said they felt like they'd already been existing as queer and expressing that queerness "before I even had the terms to come out to myself" and is now working on catching up on the conscious end of figuring out what's what. I myself never really had an official "coming out", I just became increasingly visually/socially/vocally queer as I became more and more confident in who I was and what I wanted to be and who I had on some level always been, and decided if people didn't get the hint that's their own problem. I came into consciousness of my queerness during the early 2010s original tumblr MOGAI microlabel boom, where there was a ton of focus on figuring out the hyper specific identity labels that exactly described what you were experiencing. I did a lot of digging and soul searching and experienced a lot of unnecessary stress trying and failing to find my perfect labels and landed on clumsy terms like "full time drag queen" because it was the closest I could get to what I was feeling about my gender, only to be told it was problematic for me to call myself that as an AFAB person because drag "belongs to cis gay men" (don't get me started on that statement, that's a whole other essay lol) It was a real wake up call once I distanced from these aggressively labeled and segmented online spaces and made my way into real world queer communities where I was relieved to find that in fact no one there asks to check your membership card before letting you in, if you feel like you belong there you're welcome no questions asked.

I had other people in these communities referring to me as "queer" and "fag" and "gay" and "queen" before I felt comfortable doing so myself based on online Discourse I'd experienced over who is Allowed to use certain terms, and having these community leaders I respected recognizing those things in me and welcoming me in like that gave me the confidence to really find my own footing in ways that attempting to find my exact correct identity label so that I could officially proclaim it never did. Once I could answer the question of what I was with a shrug and "queer I guess!" things became so much easier. Microlabels can be incredibly helpful and liberating for some, don't get me wrong if it works for you that's great, but let's not pretend that everyone is going to have the same experiences.

So anyway, back to Noel. Noel has never, to my knowledge, ever had any sort of official “coming out” or explicitly referred to himself as queer. So I know there are people out there who will disagree with me considering him to be queer. But so much of what he’s said and done throughout his several decades long career has indicated to me that this is clearly someone of queer experience navigating the world as such, and just as the queers in my local community welcomed me as one of them before I knew to do it myself, I extend that welcome forward. 

Let’s take a look at some of the facts. In the public span of his career, Noel has.....(in no particular order, also if anyone wants to add additional instances of note in the reblogs or comments please feel free, this is by no means a fully comprehensive list) -repeatedly called himself "the woman of the Boosh" or Julian's/Howard's "wife" in ways that suggest that's how he actually felt about it rather than it just being a punchline that he was mistaken for female in the show [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] -referred to himself at the GQ "Man of the Year" awards as "never been a man" and "a sort of girl, he/she" -been referred to by Sandi Toksvig as being "on the cusp" in regards to gender, to which he reacts with amusement and acceptance -consistently expressed excitement and appreciation when others refer to him with feminine terms or say he looks like a girl [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] -said "I love being a man-woman, it's much more interesting than being one or the other" and expressed that the loved shooting the Boosh Electro episode for this reason -referred to Vince Noir (a character who he's been pretty open about being based on himself) as "wasn't seemingly one gender or the other" -expressed that he felt most free and happy when presenting femininely [2] -had Julian, one of the people closest to him, express that Noel and Sandi (an out lesbian) may have "real sexual chemistry" because Noel is "all over the shop, he's a different sex" -used the "Confuser" line of "Is it a boy? Is it a girl? I'm not sure I mind" to refer to himself rather than Vince, and express that he's had to work to find new ways to feel as androgynous as he'd like now that he's older -referred to himself as a lesbian [2] -said that he "sometimes looks in the mirror and sees a woman", in the same interview that Julian implies that Noel is in fact a girl -referred to himself as a "girl/boy" -consistently referred to himself with feminine terms on panel shows and bakeoff -made a joke on bakeoff about not being a testosterone-based person -responded positively when asked about the ways Boosh had influenced queer and nonbinary youth -has said he's "quite obsessed with the man/woman mixup thing" -has said if he was an animal he'd want to be a seahorse because the males get pregnant -Had Lee Mack, who Noel used to live with, refer to him as "the little transsexual one, yeah I think she's fantastic" in a Boosh documentary and "a young lady who came out here happy to be herself" in response to Noel's Wuthering Heights drag performance -had his own mother refer to him as "the daughter I always wanted" -described his own appearance as that of a "transsexual witch" and when an interviewer attempted to make fun of him for calling himself "a transgender witch" by showing Noel a drawing the interviewer clearly found repulsive, Noel responded that the interviewer was "holding up a mirror" and called the image his passport photo

And I'm not even going to bother citing sources on the countless times he's made comments suggesting romantic or sexual attraction towards men. Literally just watch any non-character appearance he's ever done, it's kind of his whole thing??? Not to mention his penchant for picking up explicitly queer and gnc character roles, and also just [gestures vaguely to everything Noel and Julian have said about each other suggesting romantic and sexual tension between them and how they used their characters as an excuse to explore those feelings in a less scary way, again that could be a whole other essay on its own but ooh boy] I also think there's something interesting to explore in the idea of Noel repeatedly referring to his appearance as transgender or transsexual rather than identifying himself as such- at what point does the appearance of something become reality?

It all begs the question- is it even a joke anymore if it's that consistent? Either it's not a joke and it's an authentic expression of his real feelings and experiences, or he for some reason really really wants everyone to believe that he's queer when he's not, with this behavior spanning back to a time before the concept of queerbaiting was on anyone's minds and when being publicly queer could mean the end of your career. Which scenario do you think is more likely? And, does someone who’s been conducting themself like this for their entire career really NEED to come out? Honestly, I find this level of simultaneous authenticity and inscrutability aspirational.

In this Velvet Onion interview from 2012, Noel compares his penchant for dresses to both Grayson Perry and Eddie Izzard. This is interesting because those two people represent pretty opposite intentions behind their presentation- Grayson identifies solidly as cis male, and for him the shock value of crossdressing is the point, saying “I signed up for a gender and I want them to be very clearly delineated so I know I’m dressing up in the wrong clothes.” This doesn't seem particularly in line with where Noel is coming from given him famously referring to himself as "the Confuser" and stating in that same Velvet Onion interview that he "never even bothered giving it a label, I never went oh I'm a transvestite, I just went yeah if I fancy wearing a dress I do, never really thought about it really" Eddie on the other hand has famously said "They're not women's clothes. They're my clothes, I bought them." indicating that they were a genuine part of her authentic expression rather than a crossdressing costume, and has subsequently over the years identified more and more solidly as transfemme. I find Eddie's trajectory particularly fascinating because it's been so non-linear. In the 90s when the language for transness was much less public knowledge, she referred to herself consistently as a transvestite- a cishet man who enjoyed dressing as a woman, as well as using terms like "male tomboy" and "male lesbian" and "a full boy plus extra girl". Despite doing most of her standup shows in femme looks, most of her acting jobs were male-presenting, and there was a period of time in the 2010s where she dropped the femme presentation entirely in an attempt to be taken more seriously as the "crossdressing" was seen by many as a gimmick. Swinging back around more recently, Eddie has been explicitly identifying as genderfluid and transfemme, and in recent years has made the decision to "be based in girl mode from now on", and use primarily she/her pronouns. Since this announcement, in her trans advocacy work Eddie has described herself as being "out" as trans since the 1980s despite all of the above. She always knew who she was, it's just she's gotten access to more accurate terms over time to describe what she was experiencing, as well as feeling more safe to do so the more that transness became a known and accepted concept in the public eye.

The interview I mentioned at the very start of this post isn't really a coming out from Noel. And I don't think we'll ever really get one from him. In my opinion Noel has spent the past several decades conducting himself as someone who is in fact already out- it’s pretty clear Noel knows and is proud of who he is regardless of how he chooses to describe that identity. At this point, making some sort of official statement would just be for the benefit of others looking for clarification on their own perception of him and people who want to be able to put him in one box or another, and that’s not what coming out should be. The statement in the new interview is not "I am genderfluid", its "I've always been genderfluid", simply putting an accurate name to what's always been publicly visibly true now that he's got the terms to do so.

[sebastianswallows]

A new family — Chapter 4

— PAIRING: dark!Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

— SYNOPSIS: Ominis gets tired of his family and how miserable life is with them after he graduates. So he follows Sebastian's example for once, and kills them in cold blood. Now that he has the mansion to himself, he discovers he would still like to have a family, but one of his own making.

— WARNINGS: a lot of angst and just lonely and pining and heartbroken Ominis but not for long

— WORDCOUNT: 1.8k

— TAGLIST: @littletealight @skarathewitch @myrachondria @mrimperio @ssnapsaurus @tarotwitchy-main @hufflepuff-16

“Have you read this one yet?”

“Not yet. You said it’s good?”

“I think so, but I don’t know how it compares to Hereward.”

“He was a middling potioneer at best. He is more famous for his father than his own work. What do you want to have for dinner?”

“Anything is fine.”

Her hand slid on top of his as they lay together on her bed, books spread out between them, their hair tousled on the pillows. Outside, it was still raining. The sun had nearly set, the sky was covered in clouds, and they hadn’t yet lit a lamp. For Ominis, it didn’t make a difference.

He flipped through one of the books without even paying attention to what he picked up, and sightlessly read aloud to her the passages that made him chuckle. The older the book, generally speaking, the more strange and dangerous its instructions were.

“Yes, just cut that claw off at the root from a sleeping dragon, I’m certain nothing bad could happen. To think they gave this instruction to third years in the 1640s…”

“Do they list any evasive manoeuvres?” she asked with a grin.

“I don’t think so, although I can feel something is scribbled on the side… Perhaps a cautionary ‘do not attempt alone’.”

What a strange experience, to be read to in the dark… It was comforting and intimate in a way she’d never experienced before. It made her think of all those school nights when Ominis would be studying on his own, and she’d be off on some quest or scouring through a goblin camp or doing away with Ashwinders using the curses Sebastian taught her. It seemed now like so much time lost… If she had spent more time with him instead, would it have been a comfort to him? Would things had ended up differently?

As Ominis kept reading, she rolled to her side and rested her head against his arm. He paused, but only for a moment, and then went on.

They decided, almost wordlessly, to do together the things they hadn’t done before. After a few more days of rain, they went to the forest looking for mushrooms, something Ominis could not safely do until then. They went on shopping trips to Diagon and Knockturn Alley and spent the whole day there — after a brief stop to Gringotts for him to relieve his family vault of a few more Galleons — and treated themselves to new robes and tailored clothes, and ingredients so they could try out some of the more dangerous potions they could never do at Hogwarts.

At the end of this escapade, she went to her home and packed up a few more things to take back to the mansion. Ominis waited for her with an undying smug smile — in the end, she would still be with him come winter.

“Have you considered staying, perhaps, even longer?” he asked with a casual air as they had tea at a little table next door to Scribbulus.

“You mean over Christmas and New Year’s?”

“Yes,” said Ominis at length, “and maybe longer than that?”

“Your generosity knows no bounds,” she grinned. “Why do you ask?”

“Just tell me. Yes or no?”

He kept a smile on his face, but his brow was tense. Whatever confidence he’d had was clearly dwindling at her refusal to give him a straight answer.

“What are you really asking me, Ominis?” she said with a quiet lean forward and a teasing tone.

“Only what I said…”

She didn’t believe him, but couldn’t stop her grin.

In the end, she agreed to stay with him until January.

“After that, I really must go. I’ve put off looking for employment long enough.”

“There’s nothing to say you can’t remain with me and work.”

“Ominis…”

“And if you mention taking advantage of my so-called generosity one more time, I shall lock you in.”

“Ominis!” she laughed, but a part of her felt he was serious.

“I meant it,” he said more quietly. “I need you. I… I need you, to be happy.”

Her laughter died and she was left gazing at him softly, in silence. She wasn’t used to such openness from him… He was always the quiet one, closed off and elusive, a mystery in many ways, just like his family. And it was in part because of his family that she never considered Ominis as… more. More than a friend. The Gaunts would never have approved of her, and so every early flash of infatuation died until it ceased to flare at all. Of course, she had never imagined the drastic measured he would take to free himself from them… She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t impressed. Between him and Sebastian, perhaps she had an unhealthy interest in homicidal boys.

Slowly, she reached across the table and covered his hand as it still held onto a teacup — an innocent and innocuous one, this time — and searched inside herself.

“It’s a difficult thing to imagine,” she said, “to be the one that makes you happy…”

“I don’t mean it as an imposition,” he said hastily, “not like some… some duty.”

“Still, it’s not what… what I…”

“Not what you had planned for your life?” he asked coolly, leaning back. He slid his hand from underneath hers and picked the cup with the other one for a sip.

“I don’t mean it like that, but… I suppose I don’t know yet what I want from life.”

“But enough to know it isn’t me, isn’t that so?”

“No,” she said with a faint laugh, “not even that much.”

Ominis nodded, but he seemed somewhat at peace, that or the fight had gone out of him at her utter lack of enthusiasm for his roundabout courtship. Still, it hadn’t been an outright rejection, at least not yet…

But it made the rest of their time together a bit more strained. She could feel his attention cast down on her whenever they were together — and perhaps it had always been so, but she only just now noticed — and their silences together grew more sad, more lonely, more discouraged.

Strangely, Ominis became a bit more daring too, as if he had nothing left to lose.

He showed her the mansion’s dungeons, finally, after months of her being there. She’d never asked to see it, but she had learned that it was held under lock and key. The only thing Ominis had told her about it was that it existed. It was a grey and arched expanse with cells on either side, and instruments the sort of which she’d only seen in the DADA class at Hogwarts — iron maidens, racks, heretic forks, and rows and rows of shackles along one of its walls.

“Don’t worry,” said Ominis, “it hasn’t been used in generations. I think. It should be adequately sterile by now.”

It did little to assuage her apprehensions, as the instruments and parts of the floor were still splattered with stains.

“Who were they used on?”

“I never asked.”

Ominis was more daring in asking for what he really wanted, too. Long picnics at the edge of the forest, dragging on until the owls and bats flew overhead and the wolves began to howl. Reading sessions of curse books in her bedroom until midnight with the lamps turned dim. They purchased a gramophone together, a muggle device his parents never would have abided, and played the latest symphonies out of its large flower-shaped cone.

And, lastly, he told her exactly what how he killed his family, and what he did with them… She was only partially surprised, but mostly secretly in awe at his daring and creativity.

He was expecting her to leave almost any day, and took advantage of the time she gave him. She gladly let him do it. And, from sheer cowardice, never addressed his fears — never told him that she felt things she hadn’t felt in years, and simply didn’t know what to do with them, especially in his presence, now, when she was really beginning to know him. Instead of seeing the polite Ominis, the aristocrat, the reluctant heir, the burgeoning dark wizard, she delved into his wants, his needs, his fears, and had found in him very much a kindred spirit.

She did, however, plan to leave — more for his sake than her own. Ominis needed someone who could dedicate their life to him, their freedom, and put aside their sense of self. He also needed a gentle soul who could be a good influence to him. And she was the furthest thing from that…

As the holidays approached, along with her implied departure, they gradually grew more distant. Even when they had dinner, even when they went on walks, or when they danced together by the fireplace to the wailing gramophone, there were silences between them that otherwise would not have been.

She resolved to buy him something, like a consolation gift — something as much for Christmas as for a ‘good-bye’ — and slipped out of the house one day in mid December via floo. There was nothing that someone could give to a boy who had everything — all the luxury, the books, the clothes, and all those fragrant roses that were now buried in snow — but she felt that he uniquely missed a sense of normalcy. He’d probably never celebrated a proper Christmas with his family, only the ones at Hogwarts, and that time must’ve been bitter for him. Seeing so many other classmates going happily back home, coming back with charming little presents and fond stories… She wondered if being around Anne and Sebastian was easier, as they didn’t have much of a home to go back to either.

It was, of course, pointless to speculate, especially when she had a mission: find him a worthy present.

Three hours later, she returned with a prettily wrapped package in brilliant green. The sun was just setting and coloured the sky pink, colouring the drawing room through the wide glass panes. Aside from the flash she made as she arrived, the house was eerily silent. She was pleased with this, of course, as it kept her journey secret. Ominis must have still been in the library where she left him, that or he’d gone looking for her… She meant to hide the package before she returned to him, slip it on some high shelf or some place out of reach, where even his wand wouldn’t detect it, but then she heard footsteps coming from the foyer… She only had enough time to tuck it behind her back.

But the steps were heavy, angry-sounding, and made by large boots. A visitor, at that hour? And uninvited too… She frowned and undid her cloak to lay it on an armchair, ready to confront whoever it was, when the stranger opened the door to the drawing room and walked in.

He stopped in his tracks for a moment, looking just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. She recognised him from the pictures that still littered the mansion: Marvolo Gaunt.

[lambourngb]

good fences make good neighbors

Commiseration Tuesday

With AO3 temporarily down, lots of us are sad at not being able to read when we wanted to! With that in mind, I’m taking the opportunity to invite you guys to share a little something from a WIP to keep us going through the downtime! Preferably something we haven’t shared before, but whatever works for you! Tagged by @ravens-words​ - thank you! I am working on an exchange fic, so I can’t share that, but I can share a WIP that I had before then...

ICEMAV - Set just after 1986 - based on a prompt where Mav and Ice are roommates and they have noisy neighbors. mentions of period-typical homophobia, and some misunderstandings ....

4400 words currently, but unfinished.

***

It was the third time that week.

Maverick stared sightless up at the plain white ceiling, tracing the cracks in the plaster while he listened to his next-door neighbors, Wolf and Hollywood, do their best to medal in the sex noise Olympics. It would be one thing if they decided to do this during the early evening hours when Mav could raise the volume on the ball game enough to drown out the moans and rhythmic thumping, but apparently, no one had any excess energy *right* after a work day. Instead, the second wind came at 2 am.

Again, the third time in the week, and it was only Tuesday. Christ.

Mav swung his legs out of bed, abandoning his attempts at sleep. Tomorrow's seminar on flight instructor certification was going to be rough, but judging from his recent experience, and god did he hate that he had this knowledge, the next-door noise had only just gotten started. It would be at least an hour before things quieted down again.

He met his own roommate in the dimly lit kitchen. Ice's face was flat with annoyance.

"Woke you up too?" Mav asked stupidly because, of course, it did. Ice was completely by the book and subscribed to the minimum of eight hours of sleep during the week; only the noise of Hollywood and Wolf would have had him in the kitchen nursing a warm bottle of Budweiser.

"I bet if I reported them to the brass, it would stop," Ice muttered darkly before pushing a chair open for Mav with his foot and nodding toward the open six-pack on the table.

"Well, just means they would be annoying their fellow prison cellmates with this instead of us." Mav traded a tired smile with Ice, both of them secure in the knowledge that reporting Hollywood and Wolf was completely out of the question. A few sleepless nights was a small price to pay for them, a momentary annoyance; a complaint about the two pilots breaking the UCMJ with each other would have them both dishonorably discharged and likely imprisoned. In fact, because it *was* Mav and Ice sharing a wall in their base housing duplex was probably the only reason the couple felt safe enough to make any noise in the first place.

Still. It was one thing that their friends had a feeling of safety knowing they would never be turned in, it was becoming clear there was also ... a level of shamelessness going on next door.

Mav knuckled the gritty feeling of fatigue out of his eyes, "What I don't understand is ... how do they even have the energy? We're logging four hours in the cockpit and six in the classroom during this new certification session, and I think Jester has become even more sadistic in his teaching since we graduated from Top Gun. I can barely make it through the evening news at the end of the day, let alone want to do..."

He paused, and then they both heard the enthusiastic beat of a bed frame from next door, and the loud tempo of 'Oh god, oh fuck' soundtrack. "That."

"Are you admitting to a lack of stamina, Mitchell?" Ice smirked, his usual cool expression curving into an even more familiar expression of mocking Mav. At least now, there was only humor in Ice's blue eyes instead of the dislike from when they first met.

"What?! No, there's nothing wrong with my stamina; I have zero complaints about that. I'm just saying... those idiots have been together for years, how are they still... like that?"

This time Ice looked away, taking a long slow draw from his beer. The oven light and microwave clock hid most of the details, but Mav knew him pretty well now, he could sense the discomfort in the question. "I wouldn't know. My longest relationship lasted through the holiday break during the Academy."

"Are we talking two days of Christmas or the eight nights of Hanukkah?"

"The former...and believe me, my mother despairs of me."

Mav laughed and held out his beer to clink against Ice's in solidarity over their sad love lives. "Well, you beat me. My streak is six weeks, give or take." 

He wasn't even sure if he could count the time between Hop 31 and getting cleared to fly again as time spent with Charlie, most of that was a blank in his memory of grief and intense accident investigation prep work. Top Gun was an 8-week combat school session, in between finally scoring a date with Charlie and getting dumped for the Washington job two weeks after the Layton rescue, six weeks was probably generous. Maybe he should count Penny instead, add up his assorted weekends with her after meeting her in flight school when her father was overseeing Pensacola. Four years, six weekends.

"I always beat you," Ice reminded him, annoying as always in his precision, with the memory of last year between them. 

Mav had no idea where the Top Gun trophy was, only that he was a little surprised that it wasn’t displayed prominently in their quarters, especially after Ice had found out who his roommate was at the beginning of the session. 

Actually a lot of Mav’s presumptions about Ice and what he would be like to live with had not come true. Neatness was a rule, but there were no white glove inspections of Mav’s room and only the drollest reminder to throw out the carryout containers after a few days, and they both agreed to keep the women at the O-Club. After all, the curriculum to qualify as a Top Gun instructor was difficult enough, without complicating it with a clingy boat chaser or pilot groupie that stalked the bars around Miramar. As it turned out, as straight-laced as Ice was in his job, he was surprisingly relaxed about the apartment. Mav had even expected some sort of judgment from Ice about his sparse civilian wardrobe or his cheap generic toiletries from the exchange, but there was nothing. 

Other than the old joke about who was the better pilot, Ice was a generous and easy-going roommate. Most of the time he put up a token protest about Ice’s winning streak (1 out 1 in competitions) but he was too tired to argue tonight. 

Instead, he flashed a smile at Ice, letting his shit-eating grin say everything for him. Ice rolled his eyes in turn, but maybe he was tired too, allowing the subject to drop without a further jibe.

The thumps and sounds were slowly winding down, and Maverick picked up their empty bottles to take to the trash. He yawned, and gestured to the side where Wolf and Hollywood were staying, “I do appreciate that they feel safe here, what I don’t appreciate is the timing of it. I almost yawned in Viper’s face during the flight log review today because of them.”

Ice’s eyes crinkled at the admission, but he was kind enough not to laugh at least. He put the rest of the six pack back in the fridge and then wiped the table down with a papertowel, leaving the kitchen pristine again. “I agree. Their timing could be better, or at least quieter, and I guess I’m only a little jealous of them.”

“Why, because they’re getting laid?”

“No,” Ice drawled, without an eyeroll this time, “because they found each other. I might not have had a long-term relationship before, but I’m not opposed to the idea. Wood and Wolf, while I know they have to hide their relationship, at least they can talk about their jobs without boring the other person, or worse, spending the evening explaining acronyms. That kinda sounds nice to me.”

Then it had to be a trick of shadow, or the thin draperies by the window, but Mav suddenly had the impression that Ice was *blushing* after that confession. His mind spun over the possibilities, was that something that his wingman was interested in, and with whom, only a few people could possibly check that narrow set of boxes. Certainly not any of the women at the O-Club, unless Ice had his eye on someone Mav didn’t know. Pensacola had been graduating women for at least ten years, though not many in fixed-wing operations. He shook his head, deciding that he must have imagined that. Iceman was way too controlled to blush. 

He realized he was staring just then, and was standing too close to Ice in the dimly lit kitchen. Rushing to cover for his shameful preoccupation, Mav rubbed the back of his head and scoffed. “Yeah, sure it sounds nice, but I can’t really imagine it being realistic. At least not for me.” 

Ice said nothing in response, not even to make fun of Mav, he just brushed past him to leave the kitchen. The quiet in their apartment had been restored, it was time to attempt sleep again. 

As Mav waited to fall back asleep he realized that another presumption that he had about Ice had fallen completely flat. Ice might have been robotic in his flying at time, but the man was also a secret romantic. 

*

Two nights later it happened again. The thin walls transcribe nearly every movement and every breathless gasp from Wolfman and Hollywood.

Mav sat up in bed with a loud groan of annoyance as the ‘Oh oh, yes!’ chorus started up again. His textbook that he had fallen asleep reading slipped off his lap onto the floor with a loud thump, and then he crashed into his nightstand after overbalancing in his attempt to reach it. The nightstand hit the wall, and Mav yelped loudly in pain.

There was a pause and a giggle from the shared wall and then a loud shushing noise.

He rubbed his elbow, retrieving the textbook from the floor. Thank god blessed silence, Mav thought as the quiet extended past a few minutes, before pushing up from the floor to crawl back in bed.

Except the respite was brief, and the rocking movements of the headboard.

Mav groaned again, even more annoyed by them now. 

There was another spell of quiet, and suddenly, he realized what was going on. Wolf and Wood were listening to him. “Oh you fucking pervs,” Mav whispered to himself, and then shrugged. Maybe it was time for them to get a taste of their own medicine. He got on his knees and grabbed the plain headboard with one hand, then started to rock his hips in motion until the mattress squeaked in time with his efforts.

Boom, boom, boom, he knocked the headboard into the wall, while the mattress made obliging sounds with it. Mav pinched his thumb between the wall and the bed, pulling a loud cry of pain from his lips. Despite the circumstances that gave him an idea, it was the sound that was missing from his production. He moaned and cried loudly, until his muscles started to burn with the exertion.

Had it been long enough? How long did he have to do this? He didn’t want to be teased for being an early finisher if he quit too early-

Out of caution, Mav gave a few more minutes of his best performance without laughing, then he let out a satisfied whimper for his audience. 

It was silent next door. Maybe they were both voyeurs and got off to the noise and idea of someone else getting laid. Whatever the reason, Mav laid flat on his bed and fell asleep quickly in the renewed quiet. His last thought was smug, he had silenced the neighbors in half of the time and all it cost him was a bruised thumb.

* 

The next day was strange. It was Friday, and Mav woke up with a smile on his face. The class had an early morning test before they were all dismissed for the weekend, practically a three day holiday. He had studied the night before thoroughly and felt prepared, his sleep had only been disturbed briefly thanks to his ingenuity, and the weather was beautiful, perfect for an afternoon at the beach. Everything was coming up aces for him.

Except for one thing. Well, one person. Ice.

Never a chatty person in the morning without caffeine, Ice was downright monosyllabic on Friday. He nodded to Mav in the kitchen, taking his coffee back to his room with a brief return of Mav’s greeting of ‘Good morning’ and then he left for class before Mav was dressed from his shower, instead of sharing the walk to the hanger with him. 

Hollywood and Wolf on the other hand were all smiles and jokes that morning, elbowing each other and laughing whenever Mav came near them. He had chocked their behavior up to being a pair of immature pervs, even if they were madly in love with each other, and he had dismissed it completely. 

Ice’s behavior was a little harder to puzzle out.

His uniform was perfectly pressed, and his gold pen was still in his hand while they waited for the test to be passed out to the class. No sign of the lazy, hypnotic twirl that Ice was prone to do. It was as if every inch of him was locked down and under complete control. A complete 1-180 from how they first encountered each other. It was then that Mav realized that the pen-flipping and gum chewing were all signs of Ice being comfortable and at ease with his environment, and why wouldn’t he had been during TOPGUN, his skills had him in first place on day one, and everyone else had to play catch up, Mav included. Not today. A statue had more warmth and movement than Ice did. Mav tried to catch his eye from across the room, but Ice seemed to be deeply interested in front of the classroom and never acknowledged Mav.

That was also new.

“This might be a short day, gentlemen, but this test will determine whether you have the proficiency to teach the theories of aerial combat to incoming Top Gun classes. I hope you all studied hard,” Jester said from the podium with the tests in hand.

Hollywood smothered a laugh after Wolfman kicked the back of his chair.

“Something to add, Lt. Neven?” 

“No sir, we all studied hard. Some of us went at it a little harder than others last night,” Hollywood answered, almost respectfully. Mav noticed that Ice’s shoulders seemed to tighten and a red flush was spreading over Ice’s ear as he stared straight ahead completely stone-faced. The rest of the room was used to Hollywood running his mouth, nearly everyone rolled their eyes at the innuendo.

Mav had the strange feeling that he was missing something. Ice’s knuckles were white where he clutched his pen when just the other day that type of remark would have had him trading long-suffering looks with Mav. They knew better than anyone what Hollywood was referring to as the unlucky neighbors. However his musings were cut off by the appearance of the test. There would be time to figure out his wingman later, Mav reasoned, first he needed to make sure he didn’t wash out of the training program because of a stupid written exam.

The previous hard work the night before in studying was at least well rewarded. He confidently wrote in the answers to the open-ended questions and circled the appropriate bubbles during the multiple choice sections, hardly needing to pause to remember the correct information. Mav had to hide a smile as he reached the end of the exam, and noticed that Viper had updated the scenario with the MiG and inverted tanks. Finishing the test with a flourish, Mav stood at almost the same time as Ice did, both of them were the first to turn in their exams. 

He rushed to the front of the classroom, mostly with grace and slapped down his test in front of Jester with a smug celebration for being the first. Jester raised his eyebrows at the display, and placed the completed test to the side with an exaggerated gesture of patience. Mav turned his head to see if Ice was bothered by finishing second, only to watch him walk slowly and unhurriedly to the front, seemingly without a care. 

Like Mav was the only one who was competing. Like Mav wasn’t even worth competing with.

He was definitely missing *something* when it came to Ice. Well, as a pilot, Mav was well-trained in the dogged-pursuit of a bogie; putting his wingman in his sights was easy. Target acquired time to move in for the easy kill.

Or at least it should have been easy. Mav waited just outside of the classroom doors for Ice. 

Ice took one step out of the hanger, then caught sight of him, he then made a text-book perfect dress-right move away from him in an obvious attempt at avoidance. Ice must have been in charge of drill formations for his brigade at the academy, Mav mused to himself before jogging to catch up to match Ice’s long strides down toward the housing block. Something was definitely up with him.

Deciding to start with the obvious, Mav fell breathlessly in step with him, “Hey, so how do you think you did on the test? Not as bad as we thought, right?”

“Fine,” Ice gritted out without looking over at him.

“Just fine? I think I aced it,” Mav continued, undeterred by the short response. “Did you see the question about the inverted tanks? I feel like perhaps my name should have been cited as a resource there, since it was my intel from the Enterprise-”  he paused to see if Ice reacted to that, and was met with a clenched jaw but nothing else. “I guess we will find out on Monday if they wash any of us out for being too stupid to teach here. It’s not like the ASVAB where you get thirty points for spelling your name right, although yours was probably a challenge, Kazansky.”

“Right.”

There was no way that Ice was worried about failing out of the program, Mav thought, but maybe he was wrong about that. It was barely ten am, and there was almost three days before the results would be ready, maybe what Ice needed was a distraction. 

“Listen, it’s early enough, why don’t we hit the beach, scout out the best location before the rest of our class finishes up. Maybe it’s time for another rematch in volleyball,-”

“No, thank you,” Ice replied firmly.

The response was polite on the surface, but completely cold. Mav blinked, and realized that they were back at their shared quarters. Instead of moving toward his bedroom to remove his uniform for the long weekend, Ice was packing a slim carrying case with his textbooks and notes. His movements were smooth and unhurried under Mav’s stare, as if Mav wasn’t even there in the room with him.

He had tried subtle, but that had rarely worked for him, so Mav got straight to the point. “Is something wrong?” 

Ice didn’t pause after zipping the case up, even though his hands flexed on the supple leather. “No, nothing is wrong.”

“Are you sure? Because if I pissed you off, it wasn’t deliberate-”

Ice straightened, holding the case in his right hand. He was still the consummate officer, his left hand was free to salute, as he flicked his gaze over to Maverick for the first time all day. Up and down, without a hint of his thoughts on his face as Mav shifted anxiously under it. Whatever he saw on Mav, it must not have been interesting as he executed another precise pivot away from Mav. “You didn’t, I just don't have time for you right now, Mitchell.”

Dismissed. 

Mav thought about what Goose had said during that first night at the O-Club about Ice, “he wears you down, you get bored, frustrated, do something stupid and he's got ya-” somehow without Mav becoming aware of it, Ice had gotten lock on him and had fired, echoing the words of disinterested foster parents and bored peers who hadn’t cared to hear his teenage-mouth runoff about planes and the Navy in that dead end town.

Ice had his back to him thankfully for Mav’s ego, he was too intent on leaving the small duplex and missed the devastation left in his wake, calling out a belated, “Later, Mitchell,” over his shoulder. 

Still precise and polite, even after leaving a knife inside Mav. 

*

Time played games with Mav after that, slipping away in hours before lingering painfully over the last few minutes with Ice. He was somewhat aware of movement outside the door, a knock and call from Wolfman, some offer about the beach, but it felt unimportant to Mav. One thing was clear, he had not imagined the tension in Ice that morning and then the sudden dismissal after the test solidified that into fact. 

He had done something wrong, something that had killed the blossoming friendship between them after the Layton rescue. He had no idea what it could be, but he was a little too familiar with this type of confusion after having experienced it before as a kid. He remembered how it went back then, foster parents that were excited to welcome a son into their family, with wide smiles and effusive hugs always seemed to slip into cold, disapproving strangers because of something Mav had done.

There was even a particular look they would get after making the decision to return him to foster care, but before the social worker could find the next placement. With the brief return of the wide empty smiles, everyone would act nice, but behind it was the peace of knowing it would be just temporary and he would soon be someone else’s problem. 

Ice had found his limit with him; apparently, he was now cooly polite to Mav and obviously avoiding him. Maybe he had reached his own decision about Mav, there was no social worker for Ice to call to pick Mav up, but there were transfer orders and reassignments instead. 

He’s waiting to finish the teaching certification and then he’ll be headed back to sea, away from Miramar, Mav realized dully. They would finish the program qualified to be instructors, but not together. Somewhere along the line after Ice had signed up for the class with him, he had pictured sharing an office with him at Top Gun, taking up new pilots and bickering over paperwork, turning that bond they had from the Indian Ocean into something… more. 

Mav had never felt more stupid in his life, he suddenly understood why his stomach had clenched when Ice had confessed being a little jealous of Hollywood and Wolfman having found each other. “I might not have had a long-term relationship before, but I’m not opposed to the idea.” He was jealous, because he now realized that he wanted that too, with Ice. 

He swallowed the sour taste in his mouth and stood up from their couch, suddenly aware that hours had passed and he had done nothing to fix whatever he had done to piss Ice off. The key to convincing someone to keep him around had always revolved around being useful to them. He had learned early on that certain home placements had lasted longer when he accepted the bulk of household chores, then later on, he had ensnared Nick Bradshaw’s lifelong friendship when he had volunteered for newborn diaper duty with baby Bradley. Hell, even Charlie had hung around for his knowledge of the MiG, which was all very useful to her career prospects in Washington. 

Now how could he be useful to Ice, and make up for whatever he did to alienate the other man?

The quarters they shared were still neat, as per Ice’s original request but maybe he also meant he wanted them to be clean? That he could do.

*

It was almost eleven when Mav heard the key scrape in the lock that signaled Ice’s return. 

He kept his attention on the baseball game, long since placed on mute after the sound of the announcers had started to scrape over his anxiety. Ice flipped on the lights, causing him to blink owlishly at the brightness, his eyes having long since grown used to the dim light of the television.

“Sorry,” Ice apologized, still polite and courteous. “I didn’t think you’d be back.”

Mav glanced over at him before returning his attention to the game, even though he had no idea how his team was up by four. That confirmed another suspicion, Ice had stayed away until now because he wanted to avoid him. He hated it when his suspicions were proven correct. “Never left.”

He could see out of his periphery that his admission seemed to halt Ice in his tracks to the kitchen. It was just temporary, he recovered and continued to the small alcove to retrieve a beer from the fridge after placing his leather case on the small card table that masqueraded as a kitchen table. The sounds were familiar to Mav, the hiss of the refrigerator door, the snap of the bottle cap, the careful clink of Ice throwing the cap away in the trash, instead of tossing it carelessly like the rest of their class.

It all sounded normal, except for the bounds of tension that were looped around his chest. 

A ball was hit to the outfield, and Mav watched as it arched higher and higher over the desperate reach of a desperate center fielder. He blinked, realizing belatedly that his team had allowed the opponent to tie up the game. It was the bottom of the ninth, if his team held it they would have another shot at winning, but if they slipped it was all over. That, at least, felt familiar to Mav. 

“You cleaned,” Ice said, stating the obvious with a small wrinkle of confusion on his face as he took a seat next to Mav on the couch. His blue eyes scanned the room, noting each small change, like the rug was freshly beaten, the wood floors swept, the scent of lemon oil in the air. 

Mav pulled his attention away from the game and tried to read his expression, looking for some sign of approval or disapproval. Damnit, he was twenty-five years old, and somehow he had found a time portal back to 1973, eleven years old and wondering if he had cleaned the house well enough to avoid being sent back. For the first time since Ice had brushed him off, he felt the lick of anger at himself for being this weak. 

“I did.”

[iaminfourthwing]

The Generals Daughter

a/n: finally the first chapter is here and the next one is almost ready for upload. I apologize in advantage, because I am still a bloody beginner in terms of writing. still, enjoy!

Chapter I

Conscription day will forever be one of the deadliest every year, right before Threshing. Ever since the first time I witnessed this from afar I hate it with all my heart. All year I have the same “privilege”, how my father would call it, to watch the candidates, that passed the entrance exam six month prior, fall to their death. And those who survive the Parapet either graduate or going to get killed – due to other cadets or dragons. One wrong move and all you will be is dead meat.

Today is possibly my last day on earth. I have to cross the Parapet myself to get into the Riders Quadrant but according to the General, I will just do fine – I am a Melgren and I have ten years of training in my bones after all. I am still not so sure about this, but I have no say in this. Not anymore.

Somewhere in between these masses of candidates must be a certain other general daughter and I really fucking hope she survives this. Even though she doesn't look like she could kill a fly, I believe wholeheartedly in her. She is strong and if someone can do this, it's her, even if she doesn't knows it yet. I tried to talk to her mother but she wouldn't budge, nothing would change her mind. Even Mira tried it more than once and if the General isn't listening to her, then she won't listen to anyone.

The orders from my father five days ago were clear – wait till the end, when everyone else is done, then I'll cross the Parapet alone. On the other side at the entrance to the quadrant will wait a third year that'll bring me to formation into the Dragon Rotunda. Commandant Panchek is informed that I'll join the Quadrant and which wing.

And with that I am waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

I have a good spot to observe these kids, trying to survive this death trail and see some of them already fall. I don't understand how some of them want to become a rider after all. So many of them volunteer to join the quadrant while others don't have a choice, like me. Malek lingers at every possible corner and no one is safe from him. Having a dragon might be “thrilling”, how many officers describe it, but till you possibly get to this point you could be dead, or worse.

These dragons are terrifying, like that beast of a dragon my father bonded all those years ago, long before I was born.

The weather isn't in anyone’s favor today – the storm took a turn at some point. Even though the sunrise was beautiful, it left a bitter aftertaste as the dark clouds covered the sky. For some of them it was their last sunrise ever.

It's been more than two hours since the first one entered the Parapet and there aren't many candidates left. I make out a figure striking over the stones like they own this place and – did they just threw another candidate down?!

My heart starts racing, my breathing becomes uneven, and I feel like I'm having a panic attack. Shit, now?!

`Take a deep breath, Arya. You`ll do this alone, no one can throw you down and no one will interrupt you.’

I just really hope I`ll never have to meet this asshole. I may look tough and have more fighting experience than others, but those people are unpredictable. And I certainly don`t have my father’s signet to see if I could win a fight against him, so I really want to avoid this guy.

A knock on the door interrupts my train of thoughts and when I turn, one of the officers from infantry stands at the door. “It's time” is the only thing he says. Shit.

Around fifteen minutes later I find myself lingering at the edge of the Parapet. No one else is around, the officer walked away the moment, I stepped foot into the tower.

Only a few centimeters separate me and the abyss. Just a few centimeters left and then I'll be out in the open while the rain thankfully eases into a slight drizzle.

`Okay Arya – you`ve got this. Take a deep breath – and step forward.’

Well … it takes me about three minutes, with stumbling and cursing the shit out of every person that crosses my mind, to reach the other side and I am nearing the entry to the famous Riders Quadrant. Just like father told me, a third year is already waiting for me, looking annoyed. But it's not like he can disobey a direct order from above. “Finally, they are about to start” he grumbles. Hello to you too, grumpy, but I know better than to aggravate him, since he has a dragon that could incinerate me before I even have the chance to hide.

We make our way through the empty corridors of the college while I try to sort my thoughts. I really survived the Parapet and now I am allowed to call myself a cadet. Still alive and can't fucking believe I am now part of this hellhole. I already imagine the way the General will stand in his office and rant about how it was predictable that I would succeed. “She is a Melgren after all and it would have been a waste of time if she didn't survived.”

Faint voices in the distance interrupt my thoughts, which get louder with every step we take but before we can even walk out into the biggest courtyard one has ever seen, the chattering grows quiet.

“Three hundred and one of you have survived the Parapet to become-“

The third year, I have yet to know his name, and I interrupt Commandant Panchek, who stands on the dais in front of the cadets.

“I apologize, Commandant, but it's three hundred and two.”

There is a heavy silence that spreads over the rotunda. I stand behind the tall rider, most of the curious glances immediately find him, only a few of them spot me behind. Great.

[ceasarslegion]

I know i have a lot of teenagers who follow me because i dont baby talk to them regarding things like drugs and alcohol and sex. So i wanted to throw out some advice that still saves my ass every day as an adult that i learned to instill in myself as a teenager:

-Learn how to keep house. I know that every adult is beating job skills into you right now and its overwhelming to say to least, but no matter what you end up doing with your life, you will need to know how to cook and clean and budget and go grocery shopping and do laundry and the dishes and x y z. You will need to know how to work with cleaning products like bleach safely and without creating mustard gas by accident. If you figure that out now, you will be able to take care of yourself for the rest of your life. Those are skills that you WILL need every day in the real world no matter what.

-i want to asterix the budgeting part. I know way too many grown adults who could be doing very well for themselves who are broke as shit and actively getting worse because they cant budget to save their lives. Managing your finances is what will often be the difference between living relatively comfortably and struggling to get by.

-dont get roommates if you can help it. I know you will want to, and it will seem like a fun idea to live with your friends and like nothing would go wrong, but roommates ruin friendships. If you can afford to live on your own when you first head out, do it. Trust me, paying the full rent is worth not having to deal with other peoples bullshit taking up your living space. I learned this the hard way, dont be like me. The only people you should be actively looking to live with at the young adult stage of your life are any permanent partner(s) that might come along the way, and you should rush that either. And taking some proper time to be on your own will do you so much good in the long run in realizing what kind of person you are and what you need in things like work, relationships, life in general, etc.

-you don't need a brand new car, and your first apartment doesnt need to be high end and fancy. All your firsts for those things need to be are functional, safe, and reliable. And you will love them regardless if theyre your first car/apartment. And you dont really NEED a car if youre an urbanite with a reliable enough transit system, either. Thats more of an individual thing if thats your situation. I live in an older apartment building with a stove from a brand that doesnt even exist anymore, but its real spacious for one person, in a nice part of downtown where everythings still right outside my door, and all my utilities are included. I pay 500 dollars less in rent a month for this than my coworker who lives 2 blocks away from me and has half the space i do with none of the utilities included because its all smart tech and luxury suites in that building. You don't need all that, you will not notice the difference when you actually live there.

-no one cares about high school tier drama when you hit your college years, especially if you go to an academically-based school. In my experience at least, the schools the nerds end up at think the d&d club is the coolest one on campus. This will pass, you will be fine. The nerds really do inherit the earth after you graduate, and all those bullies really do peak in high school. The guy who was the worst offender towards me in high school now literally pumps gas for his dads gas station because nobody else would hire him. Which is fine, its honest work, but it IS a tad ironic how things worked out there after so many years of telling me he'd be my boss one day. Yeah sure, howd that work out bud

-please dont get into drugs and alcohol just to be cool. I know every adult has treated you like some porcelain doll to be handled with baby gloves regarding any sort of substance, but if you choose to partake in them, all i ask is that you be informed about the risks, you do it safely, and dont do it for social clout. Its not the substances im most concerned about there, its that when you do them for social approval, you dont know when to stop or how to listen to your body telling you thats enough, which is a straight shot to a potential addiction. Its your choice whether or not to consume drugs and/or alcohol, but its irresponsible to act like theres no real risk involved in them, especially if you have the kind of personality more susceptible to addiction. Do them for yourself, in safe environments, as cleanly as you can get them if possible, and only after you educate yourself about what the risks are and what resources there are in your area for healthcare and counseling if you do develop an addiction.

-be selfish, but dont be a dick. Your young adulthood is when you should be selfish in the sense of prioritizing your own mental health, work ascension/schooling, etc, but you can do all those things without being standoffish or disregarding other people in the process. You should be there for your loved ones if you can, but if you cant, give them the common courtesy of telling them. A simple "hey, id love to help you if i could, but i have too much going on right now to spare anything. But im always here to talk about it if you need it, ily and im wishing you all the best <3" is way better than "i cant help you right now, i have my own problems to deal with."

[love-toxin]

Fruity four opening Christmas presents together! Steve is 100% dad with trash bag for wrapping paper who grabs it immediately. Nancy’s taking notes so everyone knows who to write thank you notes to for what, Eddie loves unwrapping gifts (he might have done some that weren’t his too, oops🤷🏻‍♀️) and Robin’s just excited to give her gift to Angelface

oohoo.......holiday cheer, you say.....merry crimis! 🎄

(cws: fruity four, f!angelface, christmas festivities, gift-giving, fluff, some big gift surprises <3)

For the past six months of your relationship, you've agreed on one solid rule for the holidays--no extravagant spending for Christmas. You might be settled in a nice house (courtesy of Steve's parents as a graduation gift) and all have fairly stable jobs, especially since Nancy's got her promotion at the newspaper office and Eddie's officially an apprentice mechanic, but it's less about the money and more about the intention. You don't want to spoil each other to an excess, and you all can agree that the most precious thing you can have over the holidays is quality time together. So that should be the main focus, which is what you all promised and nodded your heads at.

But that was before the holiday decor was up, before you got to have your family and friend dinners at the Wheeler's and the Hopper-Byers' and at your own house, and before it really set in that this is your first Christmas as partners. Plus, it's the first Christmas after your last run-in with the horrors of Vecna and the Upside Down, so to say that you're feeling even more thankful for what you have than usual is quite the understatement.

It was also before you got to experience Steve's almost Santa-esque Christmas spirit, coming out on December 1st in your pajamas to find that the ruckus that had woken you up was your boyfriend up on a ladder, stringing coloured lights along the roof and sides of the house in nothing but his jeans and a zipped-up jacket--not even gloves to speak of, which is how you later found yourself making him a cup of tea to warm his trembling hands while he happily chattered on about the decorations he was gonna put out on the lawn. And no matter how much Eddie tried to slither out of it, Steve practically dragged him out in the snow to help plug everything in and make sure all the lights were working.

And in the days that have followed, you've had the holiday spirit build up inside you so much that you, you.....may have gone a little overboard. You've stretched that promise you all made until it's eventually broken by the third trip you make to the mall in a week, but how can you help yourself? You're constantly surrounded by beautiful, good-natured, kind-hearted people who have shown you absolutely unconditional love, how could you resist the chance to spoil them like you know they deserve yet never act like they do? Plus, there's something you've been keeping secret from them for awhile, something you're pretty nervous to give them--it took a long while to get it together, and you weren't sure if it would go as planned when you mapped it out, but all you can do is hope they'll like the risk you took....or at least, one of them will.

So you feel a bit antsy when you wake up on Christmas morning, eyes opened for mere seconds before Eddie's running into your room and jumping on top of both you and Robin, kissing you and shaking you awake cause it's Christmas! He's like a little kid in his excitement, it's just impossible for you to even be a little annoyed as you let him pull you up out of bed and into a hug. Robin isn't safe either, though she's got an arm over her face to block out the light she's still prodded at by your boyfriend, who eventually picks her right up out of bed and carries her out into the hall to duck into the master bedroom and dump her on a freshly-awakened Steve and Nancy. They're still rubbing the sleep from their eyes when they get their unexpected gift at their feet, and with you close on his heels you can all relent with a chuckle and decide that there's no reason not to start your gifts now.

While you're also excited, of course, you have to resist the urge to bite your nails out of anxiety as they get out of bed and Nancy pulls on her robe, Robin finally being jostled enough that her eyes are wide open and she's fallen right in with Eddie's jubilance--and the two of them usher you along as they hurry to the stairs and stop there, waiting for you three to catch up even though you feel a little like your heart's gonna explode. What if they don't even end up liking your gifts, and you mess it all up by spending way too much and getting them too many? And what if they don't like that gift? You don't even start moving until Steve pats you on the bum, ducking in for a kiss on the cheek as he moves past you and orders the other two to slow down, and don't go into the living room until everyone's there! He's surprisingly uptight about it, but the grin that's splashed across his face as you all migrate down the steps betrays something you can't quite pinpoint--except that he knows something that you all don't.

You're subjected to only a few more "C'mon!"s and "Hurry up!"s by the two grown children standing at the bottom of the stairs before you join them, and Steve makes a grand, sweeping gesture with his arm towards the living room through the archway--and when you all step inside, you can't quite believe what's waiting for you there, that was most certainly not there when you all went to bed last night.

Sure, the hoard of presents under the tree had been pretty sizeable before, but now there's quite the collection of mismatched boxes with all kinds of wrapping paper, from ones that were wrapped professionally in fancy paper to ones that are bound pretty messily with tape and edges sticking out everywhere. Yeah, you had definitely snuck down during the night to tuck away some extra presents you had hiding in your closet, so that they wouldn't be able to tell how many you'd bought--but you didn't put this many for sure, and not in all the varied packaging that they've come in. You've got a strong inkling that maybe you weren't the only one to have done so last night, and only now do the bags under Steve's eyes and his unusual giddiness make sense.

But that's not what stops you all dead in your tracks. What renders you silent is what's sitting on a stand right in front of the presents and the tree that's bursting with ornaments--a long, shiny red guitar with a glossy finish, strings sleek and new with black accents to compliment it. And you can't help but notice the way the slim body of the instrument has two upturned peaks at the top, framing the neck in such a way that it so resembles those iconic horns that Eddie's always doodling or throwing up on his head for a jab. It's perfect, it's the perfect guitar and it's exactly what Eddie would like, and it looks quite familiar, too.....and you know it when you look over to see him absolutely speechless, slack-jawed in awe as he and the guitar trade stares like they were meant for each other. It's for Eddie.

"Wow, looks like Santa really went for it this year. Guess you've been good, Munson." Steve is the only one able to breach the quiet that's fallen over all of you, sliding an arm around Eddie's shoulders rather sweetly while you and the girls share a look, grinning from ear to ear and giggling beside him as you watch your beloved motormouth go absolutely silent.

"How.....how did you...?"

"Santa knows all your wishes. I might have given him a tip or two, though." With a wink, Steve dips his head to peck Eddie on the cheek, and the frizzy curls framing his face go flying as he turns to look at your boyfriend.

"Steve, this....is the best day of my life. This--you--oh, for fuck's sakes," You're taken aback by the near moan that Eddie pushes into Steve's mouth, sucking on his lower lip like a vampire before pulling off with a pop and hurrying over to touch his gift. Steve, meanwhile, is left with a rosy bottom lip and wide eyes while he watches him geek out, only snapping back to attention when you and Nancy grab each of his arms, and move him forward to sit him back on the sofa that faces the tree. After Eddie's slung the guitar over his neck and fired off a few chords with childlike glee, hopping up and down and getting a little headbanging in, he manages to peel it off with a flushed and happy face and moves it on the stand to the side, so you can get at the rest of the presents underneath. Nancy joins Steve on the couch, Robin sits on the floor by the armchair, Eddie's cross-legged between them to complete the circle, and you take your position as promised--the designated gift-distributor, kneeling next to the tree.

With your spirits even higher than normal (although the rest of you are definitely worried your gifts won't be able to top that first one) you finally get to the looming pile of presents. Nancy picks up her pen, and scribbles out a list on the notepad she keeps on the side table when she gets the chance, although you manage to push a few gifts into her lap and remind her to relax! This is your family time, and you're especially insistent on everyone leaving their worries and stress aside for the day. Although you definitely feel like a hypocrite for the way your heart thuds against your ribcage as you make your way through them, nervously eyeing the spot near the back where the wall is, knowing that your biggest gift is hiding amongst that last pile.

Until the time comes, however, you stick your attention where it needs to be--on your lovers, all of whom seem to be filled with the kind of shameless joy that you hope everyone feels on such a lovely day. The only one that's really fidgeting is Robin, although that's pretty normal for her to play with the strings on her hoodie--and it's almost overshadowed by Eddie's excitedly flapping hands at the wrists when he's watching everyone open his gifts, and the sharp, short rocks of his head that he does when his hands are busy. Steve, on the other hand, has already made the brief trip to the kitchen to grab a garbage bag by the second present, and has it open by his feet for you all to crush your wrapping up and toss inside.

After a few small, feeler gifts to start off--some new polos for Steve, an organizational binder for Nancy, new headphones for Robin's walkman, blank cassettes for Eddie, socks and books you've been wanting--then comes the first of what you haven't realized will be quite a few more heartwarming presents. You still haven't made a crazy amount of progress through the pile, Steve having finally caved and admitting that he may have been keeping some presents hidden for the rest of them to put out the night before, including himself, obviously. And you breathe a sigh of relief when he says it and you can all share a laugh, one that's much more memorable with the knowledge that you all couldn't resist spoiling each other. At least it wasn't just you, you think to yourself as you pull the next gift out and scan over the tag.

"Oh! For me, from....Nancy and Eddie?" You look between the two, you curiosity piqued when they share their own look and lean forward while you tear it open, taking great care to toss the bright-red wrapping into the trash when Steve holds it open for you. All you can tell is that it feels pretty bookish, but it's heavier than usual--and when you turn the big, rectangular object over in your hands, your expression falls in shock and awe at what you see. The pretty, leather-coloured hardcover is more the style of a three-ring binder, and on the front, there's nothing but a few small white letters painted out that simply read "Angelface". Whatever you think you're gonna find when you gingerly open the book is swept away instantly, because by the first page you can already feel the tears welling up in your eyes.

"It's a scrapbook," Eddie clarifies, already huddling up to your side to sit next to you as your shaky fingers hold the plastic-bound page, while your other hand hovers in front of your open mouth. "You always get so excited about having pictures, but since we can't really hang any up....Nance came up with the idea of a scrapbook. She did most of the work, I just doodled some stuff and helped dig around everyone's storage." He speaks so meekly, shyly, almost, even though you can barely believe you're looking at something they both put so much love and time into as you flip through the pages.

There must be at least dozens of pages they've made up, each one a piece of thick, high-quality paper sealed in plastic holders that are destined to stand the test of time. And each one is stacked with photos, arranged neatly and glued to each side of the papers via Nancy's obvious handiwork--they vary from recently-processed ones to ones with frayed edges and signs of age to polaroids, but what really hits you is that they're of you, all of you. There's photos of you from recently, group photos of all five of you in the snow, on dates, at your Christmas dinners, and around the house, but there's also photos of you all by yourselves or with one or a few of the others. Silly photos, sweet photos--there's plenty you remember taking but never got to see, like the ones Steve took of you in the passenger's seat on your road trip, or one Robin got of you stretching as you sit up in bed, the sun's hazy orange glow cast over your skin through the window that gives it an ethereal feeling. They've even dug up baby pictures and childhood photos to make a section for it, a sudden bout of laughter cancelling out the tears spilling down your cheeks, as you press your finger to a photo of two-year-old Steve in a suit and tie.

"Oh my god..." You whisper in awe, your space now crowded with all four of them to take a look over your shoulders--you moon over the pictures of ten-year-old Robin with her trumpet and her band uniform, of Eddie's middle school buzzcut and missing-tooth smile as he stands by his uncle Wayne, and when you get to a few well-loved photos of Nancy with Barb, you can't help the "Oh, Nancy..." and the fresh wave of tears that comes over you at how special it is. You're so overcome with emotions you can't describe that you almost miss the fact that there's notes accompanying almost every page--little paragraphs and funny remarks and stories behind each photo, all written in Eddie's unusually careful hand, that you'll have time to pore over when you're not crying your eyes out.

"Oh, baby, it's okay! Aww.." Eddie pulls his arm round your shoulders and kisses your temple, while Robin hikes her sleeves over her hands and dries your tears with them, the four of them with pierced hearts and sweet, sympathetic smiles as they soothe you.

"...I know we can't show our love like other couples, and...and we can't even hang up pictures in our own home," Eddie mumbles through kisses placed on your wet cheek, his hand running through your hair. "But we can have this. Maybe we'll even pass it down to our kids, show them how their crusty old folks fell in love, eh?" A smile finally works it's way across your lips and stays there, your fingers hovering over a particular photo of a young Nancy holding her newly-born sister, Holly, before you close the book with a "Yeah.." and one last kiss on the lips.

"Alright, no more tears for the rest of the day." Steve announces proudly as they all disperse back to where they were sitting, though all of you know by the little sniffle he tries to hide--he was closer than anybody to shedding a tear, but you keep your grins quiet and keep moving on to the other gifts.

"Next is..." You drag your arm across your nose, smiling with a hiccup as you try to brush away how touched you are, just until the day is done. "....uh, this just says 'to Marty, from Doc'..."

"Oh," Steve pipes up, suddenly looking a little pink. "That, uh, that's for Robin. From me."

With a tilt of your head, you stretch to hand the mid-sized box to your equally-puzzled girlfriend across the floor, and it isn't until she's almost completely opened it that her head snaps up and an "Ohhh!" of realization comes out of her. "Oh, my god, you're cheesy. It's a reference--the first movie we watched together at Starcourt." She laughs nearly to the point of doubling over when it really hits her, and you're granted quite the adorable moment of Steve getting embarrassed as he's teased relentlessly, eventually pouting and stammering out that he just thought it was funny, that it's cute--and you can't disagree, especially since Robin gasps and almost bowls him over with a hug when she cracks open a fresh pair of sneakers, the exact fit and colour she's got already but clearly a much higher-quality brand. "I love you, dingus. You're way too generous."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." He huffs out, but the grin he's got and the way he clings to her hug says so much more than he's willing to give away. From there, things cool off from crying and gasping but the mood is still plenty lighthearted--you manage to get through most of the presents with the aid of one more trash bag and a relatively easy pace, with the added help of interjections from each of you when you want to spread the receivers out more. Before long, there's only a few left, and you each have a respective pile of gifts beside you filled with all manner and size of things. Judas Priest tank tops and romance novels and board games aplenty. One that's being used already is strung delicately around Nancy's wrist; a beautiful bracelet inlaid with diamonds, one that Steve had hunched down to put around her with a careful touch, before kissing her so sweetly her tears managed to abate. He's really gone above and beyond this year--you haven't forgotten the gifts he got the kids as well, the two or three he had gotten Dustin alone, and how he had ones to leave at Hopper's cabin in case El and Will didn't come back from California in time for Christmas. He'd even gotten gifts for Nancy's parents, Holly, Robin's mom, uncle Wayne, and your family....and not once, in the whole time the holidays have been in full swing, has he ever expected anything back. He had ducked into the Wheeler's bathroom to cry his eyes out when Dustin had given him a hand radio, one he'd tweaked to have a two-way channel with a radius that spans over all Hawkins--so that, if they want to talk or if either of them ever gets in trouble, they can call each other no matter where they are. You'll never forget how quickly he put himself back together and came out with a smile, though, refusing to put any attention on himself as he stepped out to keep having a good time with everyone.

So it's time. It feels like time, even though you're nervously playing with the hem of your sweatshirt, almost breaking out into a cold sweat as the last few presents dwindle until there's just one left. The one all the way back, right in the corner, so nobody would even notice it until it's time.

"Oh, honey?" Just as you're about to duck under the tree and reach for it, Robin gets your attention, a giddy grin accompanying a flushed face and burning-red ears. "There's, uh....there's one more in the tree, can you grab it? It's kinda up high."

Without correcting her, you nod happily and grunt as you get to your feet, turning towards the tree to get on your tiptoes to search for it. You certainly hadn't noticed anything in the branches when you'd been down here last night, but you weren't exactly focused on the tree--you'd been more attentive to whether there were any doors opening or footsteps as you silently placed your extra presents down. Just as you're about to ask over your shoulder for some guidance, your ears catch the sound of a gasp, one that sounds like Nancy's. On instinct, you turn round on your heel to look--but your eyes scan over Steve and Nancy's shocked and awe-twinged expressions before they land on what the three of them are seeing.

By your hip, Robin's looking up at you with a gaze so sweet it would make you melt.....and between her fingers sits a ring, the golden band glimmering under the twinkling light, just shy of the crystal that's set inside it. Somehow, it's only when you notice that she's perched on one knee that it all clicks for you, and your hands shoot to your mouth to cover how widely it's gaping.

"Robbie?"

"I, uh....wow, I don't know how to do this." She stutters out, suddenly devoid of the immense confidence it took to get down on her knee in the first place. But nothing's going to stop her from trying to get those words out, you can see it by the way her brow furrows and she takes a deep inhale. "You....are.....m-my love, you're everything to me." She sighs, turning her eyes down and away from you to collect herself before she starts right back, determination clear in her eyes.

"I didn't ask permission to do this. I'm just doing it. I love you. I want you to be my wife, a-and...I want us to be together forever. I wanna laugh with you, I wanna make you happy, and if we have to bleed, I want us to do it together." Robin tears her eyes away to cast her gaze over the other three, each of them with hopeful, happy expressions on their faces--Steve encourages her, mouths the words "Go on!", and her eyes crinkle with a brighter smile, the confidence returning as she looks back up at you. "And I don't care if we can't get married in a church, or if people always wonder why we're all so close, I just....I love you. I love you! If I could marry all of us together, I would. But....will you settle with being my wife? Just....for us?"

"Y...Yes, yes! Oh my god, yes! Robbie, I-" You can't even bring yourself to bother finishing whatever it was you were going to babble out, not when she's jumping up to meet you, pushing her lips up against yours and practically hiking you up off your feet in an embrace that feels tighter than ever. The other three make a show of clapping and Eddie wolf whistles just to make your faces burn brighter, as Robin tears herself away from the breathtaking kiss just long enough to slide the ring on to your finger, her eyes glued to the way it settles there on your hand perfectly.

Wife. That word hasn't had the same meaning for you as it has everyone else, everyone you grew up with who always dreamed of having a nice husband in a nice house and being a pretty wife with cute babies. You'd never dreamed of the same big, white wedding or the man that would fit the role of any romance movie protagonist--your dreams have always been different, weird, and you've always figured they were just that. Dreams. But when Robin kisses you again and your other partners hurry up to share the joy in a whirlwind of alternating hugs, you can feel that jubilant swirl of emotions inside you that have your eyes leaking with tears again.

"Well, I'm not gonna be nearly as well-spoken as Buckley," Eddie suddenly grins, swiping a box out from behind the armchair that none of you had noticed until now, too distracted by the tree and the presents underneath it. Upon closer examination as it sits in his hands, it's not even wrapped, just looks a bit like a shoebox with a closed, brown top. "But I had the same idea. Least we all get rings now, right?"

With a flourish, your boyfriend pulls up the flap to show off the contents--and the four of you are left speechless by what lies inside, Robin letting out a shocked laugh at how similar their thinking seems to be.

Laid out on a soft, clean blue cloth, are four more rings. Each one is different, however--the bands are all made up of entwining coils of silver, much resembling the twisting, celtic-knot-esque patterns that Eddie's excitedly shown off to you in Tolkien's books. But the crystals set in each one are the same, glittery and almost pure white like the gems of Lasgalen, cut and bound into the bands firmly so they won't ever come loose. If he didn't proudly exclaim that they're all his own handiwork, you wouldn't believe he hadn't spent an exhorbitant amount of money getting them custom-made....but they're too Eddie to be something bought from a store, and he's clearly happy to be met with a group of slack jaws and teary eyes as he passes them around. The small, dainty one with elegant designs goes to Nancy, the thicker one with wider coils is Steve's, the one with intertwining silver and gold accents is for Robin, and yours....it has such sweet simplicity that it's just awe-inspiring, it's perfect, and it's even got the tiniest symbols of leaves that surround the crystal; like the leaves of Lórien.

"Eddie, you made these?" Nancy finally speaks up, holding her own hand as she looks down on the ring like it's some priceless, royal artifact.

"Sure did, sweetheart. Can't let Harrington have all the fun dolling you up, can I?" He chuckles, and the box nearly hits the ground when Nancy grabs hold of his cheeks and bends him down to kiss her, the gem on her hand and the ones on her wrist shimmering off the Christmas lights still twinkling around the room. But there's one ring left to bestow, and when the two of them break away with flushed faces, Eddie plucks it off the cloth and meets your eyes with his own, hazily giddy ones.

"How about I wear yours, angel? More romantic that way, dontcha think?" He asks, and when you nod with a smile that could rival the sun, he happily slides it on to his own finger and finds that it fits just splendidly. All five of you hold out your hands on instinct to compare your new jewelry, the four matching rings somehow accentuating yours even more with the silver bands complimenting your entirely gold one. And it hits you all at once--engaged. You're engaged not just to one, not just at all, but to all four of the people you couldn't love more if you had the choice to pick anyone in the world. It's not traditional, but it doesn't matter, because it's yours to share for the rest of your lives.

"....I'm just gonna assume those are all yes's, right?" Eddie finally laughs, breaking the stunned silence into a hubbub of chatter and "of course!"s as you take turns thanking him with lips, hands, and tongue. Steve returns the kiss he got earlier by tenfold, his hands firmly on Eddie's hips as he swallows any other cheeky comments--but just as everyone is cooling down and enjoying that one, last high of gift-giving, you manage to find the courage to push out the words you've been waiting to say.

"So....um, actually, there's....there's one more gift." You admit, the gentle squeeze of the band on your finger allowing you a little more boldness as you look between their satisfied faces.

"Oh, god, don't tell me you got someone a car. We already broke our rule within, like, ten seconds!" Your boyfriend dramatically cries out, before your new fiancée pipes right back at him with her arm around your waist.

"Says you, mister tiffany diamonds and luxury guitars." Steve sticks out his tongue and flaps his fingers together like a fake mouth, before pinching Robin's offending cheek and getting a playful swat on the hand.

Being used to their antics, you just nervously bite your bottom lip, and turn to kneel down and reach back under the tree to close your fingers around the box. It shakes a little when you pull it out and sit back on your knees, though that's probably because your hands won't stop trembling. Just do it. It's gonna be okay. They're gonna love it.

"It's....it's for everyone, but...." You get up slowly and move towards Steve, standing in front of him meekly with your knees practically glued to each other. Without another word of explanation, you wait as they all move to crowd the couch, Robin huddled up by Nancy's side while Eddie perches on the arm next to Steve. And when they do, you feel your heart stall as you place the little box in Steve's open hands, and your stomach drops to your feet when he carefully takes the top off.

The silence kills you, so quiet that not even their breathing interrupts it--but Steve's eyes widening with nothing but shock cuts you deeper, and suddenly the ring on your finger feels too tight, like it's suffocating you.

"Are you serious?" He breathes, finally looking up at you.....but you can't tell what he's thinking, what he's feeling, and suddenly the place you're standing is the last place you want to be, an eerily quiet "Y-Yeah" escaping you with a tremor in your voice. Please don't be mad at me. Please, God.

"Steve? What is it?" You hadn't even realized that the other's vision had been obscured by Steve's hands, not until Eddie shatters that terrifying quiet and leans over for a look. But now, Steve isn't looking anywhere else but you, a glossy sheen filling his sweet, brown eyes.

"You're pregnant?"

Nancy claps a hand over her mouth, Robin's eyes nearly bug out of her head, and Eddie sits there staring like he's still deciphering the words and the little pink test sitting in the lap of your lover. You've got no idea what to do, what to say, and you feel tears start to well up in your own eyes--maybe this was all a mistake, maybe this was too much and you just crossed a line you can't ever step back over.

"Th-This is why you were sick? You're having a baby?" Your hands practically glued together, you nod without looking his way. That mysterious illness that had been pervading your mornings and afternoons had resulted in quite the concern from your partners, but even when they'd asked you to take a test, you'd managed to hide those positive results and convince them they were all negative. Hoping that it would make this moment all the more special, which....seems a little naïve now that it's happening and it's too late to back out.

"Yeah, we....we're having a baby. It....Steve, it's yours."

"I'm gonna be a dad?"

As much as he usually tries, he can't hide the tears this time, and still worried about gauging his reaction wrongly, you stammer out your explanation like you're trying to disarm a bomb.

"Y-Yeah, I planned it out....I t-tracked my cycle, and....that's why I asked Steve to take me to California. I mean, I don't know for sure, but-"

"Oh, honey," Eddie's hands suddenly hit his forehead, and he drags them down his face in a way that frightens you even more. "Is that why you asked me what you asked me?"

The girls look over at him for clarification, still not entirely sure that what's happening right now is really happening, and it's not just some elaborate prank. And while Steve's still digesting the news with teary eyes, Eddie explains.

"Angel's fuckin' clever--or I'm just an idiot--but she asked me, if we have kids, if I cared who got to be the dad first. I just said it didn't matter to me, but....I hoped Steve would get to do it first."

There's no need to say more after that. Steve's finally on his feet, sliding the box aside carefully to let Nancy grab it and hold the test up closer so she and Robin can take a look--and in one step he essentially sweeps you right off your feet, strong biceps clinging to you and his face buried in your neck as you squeal and graze your socked toes across the carpet. It isn't even until your skin warms and prickles with goosebumps that you realize he's planting kisses on every inch of skin he can reach, smiling into your skin and mumbling around mouthfuls of you.

"My baby, my baby--you've got my baby inside you, god, I can't believe I'm a dad-" Like a man that just won the lottery, he lets out a cry of pure, unbridled joy that was just bubbling up inside him so strongly he couldn't keep it down. And once he puts you back down on your feet, he drops to his knees in front of you, nuzzling his face into your belly with his arms tight around your hips, kissing and nosing at the imperceptible bump that you know will be growing even larger pretty soon. "How far along are we? When do I get to meet them?" He asks you with starry eyes, and your heart just melts at the sight of him so excited--it's a sense of relief that you can't even explain, you just have to let your own tears flow out of joy.

"The...the doctor said six weeks, just about. So we should be due in-"

"August?! We're having an August baby!" Steve cheers, though you're sure now that he'd have the same reaction to any month--he just couldn't be happier, jumping back up to his feet for another kiss before you notice the other reactions you've got waiting for you. While Eddie is pawing away his own tears to try and keep it together and Robin looks like she's so happy she's shaking, Nancy looks almost pained at the news, and it sends your heart plummeting from that glorious high all the way down into the dirt at once, her name falling off your lips with worry lacing each syllable. Her eyes shift to meet yours, big, blue oceans that tug at your heartstrings until her lips quirk up into an unbelievably pretty smile.

"You're gonna be a mom," She preens, tucking her hair out of her face as she gets up and squeezes past Steve to go in for a hug, holding you like a teddy bear but not tight enough to hurt her baby. "We're gonna have to decorate, and buy baby clothes, and....we're gonna be parents. The best parents."

As soon as she says that, it seems to light something in Robin and Eddie that has them finally moving off the couch. They hurry in and crowd around each side of you, smothering your happy tears with affection and cuddles and hands on your belly, cooing at both you and the baby growing inside you that they just can't wait to meet. It seems almost silly now, how much you had fretted and worried about breaking the news to them. How you had wasted away precious hours of sleep because you were laying beside them, watching them breathe softly with their heads on their pillow, and wondering if you had made a huge mistake by guessing this would be something they wanted. Many nights you'd warmed yourself against Steve's bare chest, throat rumbling with gentle snores and pleased hums at the feeling of your body cozied up in his arms, scratching your fingers lightly through his chest hair as you thought about the moment he would find out. If he would be happy.

You can see it now in his face, and in the other's faces, too. He's happy. They're all so happy.

"Well....I guess we need two more savings jars. Baby jar and wedding jar." Nancy finally breaks the silence as you're finally let go, cradled instead in Eddie's arms as he kisses the crown of her head with a smile and a pair of misty eyes. He's still in disbelief, but there's no coming around needed. You can see in his faraway look that he's already running through baby names in his head.

"Wedding?" Robin pipes up, looking between all of you as she tries to put the pieces of the puzzle together. But they know, they can already sense it, even though your girlfriend-turned-fiancée is still a little too delirious to believe it.

"....Yeah? You asked angel to marry you first, did you not?" Nancy replies with a grin, and pats the arm Eddie has around her. "So we need to have a wedding. Backyard should be fine, right?"

"Are you sure?" She looks between Nancy to you, eyes glimmery and hopeful. She clearly had expected some pushback from everyone else with her decision, especially considering she hadn't asked or confided with any of them before she went ahead and popped the question. You've got no idea, but in reality she didn't figure she'd actually have the courage to ask it, which is part of the reason why she didn't say anything. But regardless, you answer the question for her with a brief, but loving kiss.

"I'm gonna be your wife, Robin Buckley. You think I'd pass up on a wedding to the love of my life?" This time, you could swear she's really gonna faint. Her cheeks run hot all of a sudden, her smile quirking up slowly until it's bright and toothy, and she bounces on the balls of her feet before dipping in for a long, sweet peck. "Besides, I've got an album to put all the pictures in, now. We'll invite our friends, the kids-"

"Wait, really?"

"Robbie, I think they're already gonna be asking questions when they see me with a bump. Unwed, no boyfriend, living with my "friends"--and they love us. They'll be thrilled." You try to reassure her, because really, you want so badly to have a ceremony with your loved ones. Even if they won't know the true extent of the love you all share, and even if it's not official by any stretch of legality, it's something you've always dreamt of and if you have the chance, you want to make it a reality. Suddenly, Eddie turns on a dime and points at Steve, who snaps out of his delirious happiness when your boyfriend opens his mouth.

"We'll convince Dustin the baby's Robin's! Get that little butthead to drive himself crazy trying to figure out if it's true--bet you twenty he'll believe it." He declares with a smirk, the mischievous gears already turning in his wicked little head. Honestly, sometimes he's more of a kid than the kids are--but you love him for it, and by Steve's response, you know for a fact that Eddie's not the only one.

"You're a dingus.....and you're on. That kid needs a good kick in the head." He grabs Eddie's hand for a shake before the metalhead can spit in it first, and he relents, although Nancy just rolls her eyes and slips out of his hold as they solidify their silly little schemes.

"Anyways," She pipes up, drawing everyone's attention back to the matriarch of the household. "I think it's about time for breakfast. You're eating for two, now, mh?" Nancy delicately brushes her hand over your belly, moving past you to kiss your cheek before she heads towards the kitchen, with Steve following close behind to offer an extra set of hands. And with a little time before then, you, Robin, and Eddie all get to work on clearing up the living room and bringing everyone's present piles to their bedrooms, with the two of them eager to cut in and take anything they even remotely perceive as "heavy" from your arms to haul it around for you. They're honestly almost too excited to pamper you, their precious, pregnant angel, but even at their mother henning you just have to let go of a laugh and offer some kisses and hugs for their devotion. It's a fair trade, after all--you give them a baby, and they give you the whole world as you see it. So maybe, next Christmas, you won't worry so much about going a little over the top for your husbands, wives, and the parents of your most anticipated little addition to the family.

[wachtelspinat]

Hi, I saw your background with studying medicine and being an artist and I wanted to ask something!! hope it isn't uncomfy. so the school system by itself is killing my creativity and Im afraid I'll completely lose myself if I get into college... Even if I choose to study something art related. College is really absorbing and I don't want to graduate and have killed the only talent I have, thats scary!!! So, how did you "go" back? did drawing help with the stress of college or make it worse? Sometimes my studies define me so so much I cant do anything else, its so frustrating :(

hey there ! i really don't know if i can bring sth to the plate that's positive or uplifting in the matter because i've been in a struggle with art myself for almost 2 years now. i'm really trying to come back but the pace has changed drastically. it's still a constant mood crusher everytime i look back and see how my output has declined. nevertheless i'm drawing again in the smallest babysteps so hopefully i'm gonna pick up the pace again at some point.

as for school and art. yeah. i kind of opened with my current situation because altho (med) school was A Meatgrinder technically speaking i still found time to draw here and there. which was mostly thanks to my higher energy lvl back then and my BIG motivation to draw and to share. so i'd say drawing absolutely helped with the stresses of studying and med school. it was my happy place and escapism. and because of that there was hardly any doubt in my head that i'll ever lose that. so i think it is safe to say that as long as you want to draw you will always be drawing.

second thought here which is also important is that you won't be stuck in an eternal grind, even if it feels like it sometimes. there will be times in which everything sucks. and there will be times in which everything could be worse. and if you wanna draw then, you're going to draw. that's at least how i experienced it. even the longer periods of not drawing because of exhaustion/loss of motivation/exam periods etc eventually pass. and sometimes it's ok to remind yourself that drawing is not everything, altho we like to think that way sometimes. it's absolutely ok not to draw for a while.

another breaking point for me was when i actually started to study for art (anatomy as in for drawing etc) because it helped me at a point at which i felt stuck and it made me understand that i will never be done learning in regards of drawing. which is a good reminder whenever you feel like you are losing your "talent", which is not a talent but a work in progess for years and years to come. so in the end, even if you have to step back from drawing for the time being, you have the ability to always come back to it and get better again. like we have to treat making art like learning a language, there is never an end to it and we have to practice to be back in shape. i know this sounds like work but idk for me it made sth click in my head that i'm not losing sth here. i just have to warm up and get back on the track again.

i hope this helped in some way, i'm really sorry that you feel like you are about to experience a great loss (i absolutely get you, it sucks to deal with this, esp. when outer circumstances force you to push your hobbies in the background) but i think that if you really want to engage with drawing again, you won't lose this. you may have to put work into it, and it may not be today or tomorrow, but if you really want to do it, you keep at it.

[imashoe69420]

Hey! Can I request a rise!Donnie or rise!Raph x fem!reader with a reader who is usually very loud and optimistic but has gotten depressed recently due to a boarder-line traumatizing ex attempting to make contact with them at their workplace?

Omg so specific lol and scary

I will try my best! :)

====================

All In Your Head

Rise!Donnie X Fem!Reader

Prompt: Your ex shows up to your job, putting you on edge for the rest of the night.

Pronouns: Feminine (she/her)

Relationship: Dating (not official)

Timeline: Post!Movie

Warnings ⚠️: Angst, mentions of abuse, mentions of mental illness

===================================

You were never good at dating. In fact, you only had one boyfriend in your life, and that only lasted for a few months. But, god, was it one of the worst experiences of your life.

During your time together, your ex-partner was a complete control freak. They never put a hand on you, but the mental manipulation and serial cheating they put you through almost pushed you to the edge.

Often, they made you feel crazy like you couldn’t trust your own self. Your ex had no ability to take responsibility for their actions, so everything was your fault. Obviously you hid their keys when they were in a rush. You obviously wanted to break up when you were hanging out with your friends; you were excluding them.

They would constantly have you thinking you’re the worst girlfriend ever as if you did all those things your ex accused you of.

Eventually, they confessed to you that they were no longer in love with you. They had found someone else and wanted to be with them, not you.

The breakup caused you to slip into a month long depression. You didn’t go out with your friends anymore. You didn’t talk to your parents or siblings. All you did was lie in your bed watching overrated TLC shows.

Gradually, you became your normal boisterous self. Your worried loved ones finally felt some relief as you started hanging out with them regularly, talking, laughing, and extroverted as usual.

You’d also met someone else. Donnie.

Unlike your ex, Donnie cared about you. He always wanted you to be safe, especially since him and his brothers had several enemies and you weren’t equipped to fight any of them off. Sure he could come off as a bit aloof, but you knew he never had the intention to hurt your feelings. He just had trouble understanding certain emotions.

That was better than anything your ex put you through.

•••

You tap away at your phone, texting Donnie that you’d be at your apartment soon. Your boss had basically forced you to take the night shift at the dumpling restaurant even though you had school in the morning. Whatever. Fuck it. You’re graduating soon anyways.

The scientist soon FaceTimed you, which he often did and demanded for you to stay on it until you locked the doors.

“You’re lucky my manager doesn’t care if we’re on our phones or not.” You giggled as soon as Donnie’s face popped up on the screen.

The purple clad turtle shrugged lazily, leaning back in the rolling chair he was sat in. “They’ll have to deal with it either way. Making sure you get home safe is a priority for me.”

Your heart nearly leaped out of your throat when he’d said that so nonchalantly. “Aw, my knight in shining armor.”

“Hardly.” Donnie spoke firmly with a deadpan expression. “I like to think of myself as the literary Bad Boy archetype: a social outcast going against the grain in the name of science.”

With a shrug, you placed the phone on the counter, propping the device up on your bag. “Eh, I’d say you’re more of The Outlaw.”

His drawn-on eyebrows furrowed. “You think I’m ‘potentially criminal’?”

“You remember talking to me about that weird crystal you stole from Draxum?” You smirked at him as you picked the phone back up and ambled over to the front doors to lock them.

Donnie hummed to himself before raising an eyebrow. “Touché.”

After locking the doors, you turned around to gather your belongings. You angle the phone up, facing you at eye level.

“Okay, I’m almost done. Just gotta…” your words trail off as Donnie had leaned closer towards the screen, a concerned yet curious expression adorning his features. “What…?”

“Who’s that behind you? At the door.”

A cold sweat soon overtook your body. Donnie would never mess around with you like that.

Instead of turning around, you gazed at your reflection in the phone. What you saw made you drop the device and press your hands against your lips.

It was your ex.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N), what happened? (Y/N)!” Donnie’s voice was laced with worry.

Without replying to him, you scooped your phone off the floor and ran into the back where your manager, Collin, was counting drawer.

When he saw you shivering with your back pressed against the door, he instantly stood up. “(Y/N), what happened? Are you all right?”

“I-I—” you stuttered heavily. “Someone’s… someone’s at the door…”

Collin cocked an eyebrow as he gently pushed you aside and opened the door. He’s silent for a few seconds before shutting the door, shrugging while doing so. “I don’t see anybody. Do you want me to walk you home anyways?”

You immediately nodded, grabbing your stuff as you waited for Collin to finish counting drawer.

• • •

At your apartment, you remain on FaceTime with Donnie. He had been interrogating you for like fifteen minutes: “who was that?”, “why did Collin have to walk you back?”, “Was it a supervillain?”. On and on.

“Donnie, please just relax.” Your voice shook slightly. “It wasn’t anybody you know.”

Right after that statement, there’s a loud pounding at your bedroom window. You dart your eyes over to it, but your fears are instantly nullified.

You sighed deeply as you slid the glass open to allowed the purple clad turtle to enter your room. “God, you scared the shit outta me.”

He shut the window behind him before surveying your empty Red Bull can littered room, the fixing his gaze onto you. “What did you mean by ‘it’s not anybody I know’?”

You felt your stomach drop as he reminded you of work’s events. “Donnie, I duwanna talk about it right now. Just know that that person is awful.”

The turtle’s eyebrows furrowed. You didn’t normally talk like this. If anything, you would say some sort of quip or reference to American Literature. Something his younger twin would say. But now you just seemed shaky and afraid of something he didn’t understand. And that bothered him. But nonetheless, he didn’t like seeing you upset.

Donnie exhaled. “Okay, fine.”

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence—both you and Donnie tapping away on your phones—for several minutes before you made a proposition.

“Can you… do you think you could maybe… stay over?” I’d been a few months since he stayed over the whole night. Often, the scientist would say that he had projects to work on or a mission to go on or something like that.

He shrugged lazily with a slight smile on his face. “I suppose so if that’ll make you feel better.”

Your sigh of relief causes Donnie to question your behavior. “It’s just… you usually have something to do instead.”

The purple clad turtle hummed to himself. “Well, I can tell you’re afraid of that person at your job, and now you’re afraid to be by yourself. And I think you’re a little more important to me than a project that isn’t even half way off the ground.”

You weren’t sure if Donnie fully understood how much that meant to you: to put off a project just because your ex decided to show up to your job out of nowhere and fuck up your entire night. All you knew is that he was definitely 10x better than your ex.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note: this fanfic is kinda bad but I’ve been sick for like 3 days so that’s why I haven’t been posting 😭 but I’ll try my best to get all the requests out.

[paperphobe]

Im tired of the debate about criminal minds and it’s lack of consistency, I’m making the official decision that Aaron Hotchner was born in 1965! 

I just spent a freakish amount of time crafting up a general timeline of his (very crowded) career and life in general based on his birth year being 1965 and I think it works. 

Apologies for any inaccuracies in advance, I know nothing about any of these jobs or the American education system, and I haven’t slept in almost two days so this could very likely be absolute nonsense. 

The most recent birthday shown in the show for Hotch is November 2, 1965. Because of this, and the fact that it logically makes more sense (I will explain later). 

Hotch was born on November 2, 1965 in Virginia.

This means that Hotch would have started kindergarten, in 1971 because of his late birthday. This also makes sense with Haley’s age reportedly being a year younger when the show had him born in 1971 and her in 1972 according to the wiki. Not sure when/if this is mentioned in the show and I cannot bring myself to look for it.

From the very confusing sources i found online, from the start of school to high school graduation in Virginia is 13 years. Kindergarten then grades 1 through 12, totalling 13 years of schooling. 

This means he graduates high-school in 1984. This is consistent with Emily having been born in 1970 and graduating high-school in 1989. 

Let’s say he did a three year undergrad as most undergraduate programs are 3-4 years long. He graduates in 1987, writes his LSATs then attends Law school. 

Law school takes another three years which brings us to 1990. 

I don’t think that internships or apprenticeships are required but to be safe let’s just say he started working as an intern of sorts at some point during his last year of law school. 

We know hotch is highly intelligent, has a lawyer father and it’s implied he comes from money. So it would take no significant time for him to find himself a good position and begin working as a prosecutor very quickly. 

Let’s say he worked as a prosecutor for 4 years before he decided it wasn’t enough and he wanted to catch killers instead. 

He was a sharpshooter for SWAT at some point according to some notes on his character, and a mention in season one. He clearly is a VERY good shot as seen in  4x5 and 9x3 so I’ll say he spent about a year doing that before he made his way to the Seattle field office in 1995.

He was the case agent for the Womb Raider case in 1997 and that is when he met Rossi. 

Rossi had been retired approximately 10 years before making his return in 2007, and Hotch and Rossi are implied to have worked in the same BAU office. Let’s say Hotch transferred to the Quantico Office sometime soon after that case, worked with Rossi until about 1998, leaving Gideon in charge. 

That means that in season one (2005) Hotch had approximately 7 years in the Quantico BAU, 10 years in the BAU total, add his time in SWAT and that is about 11 years total in the field. 

Plus his 4 years or so as a prosecutor and he has 15 years (approx) in a law related field. 

Though it’s never specified when Hotch became the unit chief he is referred to as such in the first season. So I think the most logical and most common theory is that Gideon stepped down after the bombing (occurred in 2005 according to the wiki) and Hotch took on the role as, besides Gideon, he has the most experience as a profiler. I don’t know exactly how long it would realistically take one to become a unit chief, but this explains why Hotch would hold the position regardless of his age or years in the bureau. Plus the BAU was still relatively “new” compared to other units, so Hotch would likely be first choice to lead regardless, given his experience. 

Hotch being born in 1965 would make him 40 years old in the first season.

Nameless, Faceless says he is 43 on his patient chart, the patient chart was shown after he was identified. Nameless, faceless takes place in 2009, and we can safely assume that this is before his birthday because Haley is killed November 25th of that same year, many episodes later but not even a month after Hotch has his 44th birthday. 

There are a couple small issues plot wise with him being born in 1965. Primarily with the way his relationships with Sean and Haley are described. 

Haley and Hotch were highschool sweethearts, they met in junior year and there has never been any indication that they have been separated for any reason since. Theories about a break in college, or while Hotch was in Seattle have no canon evidence behind them and are just theories. The idea that Kate Joyner and Hotch hooked up (“liaised”) is also not confirmed and results purely from jokes made by the BAU team and the fact that Haley and Kate look alike so we should just discard any separation theories. 

The divorce papers say they were married in 2000 and then divorced 8 years later in 2008. Which means they would have dated for about 16/17 years before getting married and 5 years later having a child. Though to most this is probably a bit unconventional considering both Hotch and Haley seemed to want a very typical nuclear family, white picket fence, kids, stay at home mom, yada yada type of situation. But the idea that they didn’t want to get engaged right during Aarons undergrad/law school isn’t far fetched, they might have gotten engaged during his 4 year period as a prosecutor, but delayed the wedding because he was in Seattle and maybe she wasn’t. I find this and the career timeline more probable than Hotch being younger, with a crunched career timeline and 10/11 years before he married Haley.

As Haley would have been 40 when Jack was born, it’s very realistic to say they could have wanted to try for a baby any time after the marriage and it might have just taken longer because of her age. 

Now the Sean plot hole is not explainable. Sean is about 25 in the first season, we don’t know his birth year but a year difference in this math won’t change the outcome. We know Hotch is 40 in season one. This means Sean is 15 years younger than Hotch. Yet in Brothers Hotchner, Aaron claims he was sent off to boarding school when Sean was in the 1st (I think) grade. Which is not possible with a 15 year age gap. 

I could be somewhat more possible if Hotch was born in 1971, as it would mean Sean was born in 1980 and would be 10 years old when Hotch graduates high school in 1990 so the boarding school stuff would make a lot more sense here. But this is really the only thing that birth-year makes accurate. So we can probably just write this off as another criminal minds inconsistency that has to be ignored instead of explained. 

This took me multiple hours of surface level research so it certainly could be wrong, it’s just what I’m assuming based of the most probable and most canon things. Also the fact that him being born in 1971 makes him YOUNGER than Emily, and I’m not sure if it’s explicitly said he is older than her or not, but it’s heavily implied. Also 1965 makes him a lot closer to Thomas Gibsons age, and since Hotchs age isn’t really relevant to anything in the actual show itself they probably just gave him a generic “he’s around TG’s age” typa thing until they had to give him a birth year. Which they also didn’t really care about enough to keep consistent. 

Once again, really basic google searches and my overtired brains recollection of details in the show are what provided me with the information used in this. So corrections are welcomed. 

I assumed that Virginia schools start kids in school based on if they were born before or after September as I think many American schools tend to do that. It also made sense with Haley’s birth year so I let myself go with that assumption. That’s not how schools and ages work where I live so I hope I did that correctly. I also saw that there was only a year of kindergarten and then grades 1-12 (also not how it’s done where I live) so that could be all wrong. Or he could have gone to some fancy school and started or finished early. Who knows, who cares. It’s too hard to think about. 

Also assumed that he didn’t need an internship or placement post law school. 

Here is a non-detailed version:

Born: November 2, 1965

Started school: 1971

Schooling (13yrs): 1971-1984

3 year undergrad: 1984-1987

Law school (3yrs): 1987-1990 

Prosecutor: 1990-1994

Swat sharpshooter: 1994-1995

Seattle: 1995 - 1997/8

Quantico BAU: 1997/8 - 2005

Unit chief BAU: 2005 and we know what happens after that 

[celestial-specter]

So I finally got around to watching the first three episodes of the final season, and I’ve got to say, I’m very intrigued by the addition of the three clone cadets! Most of my interest comes from their names- and since I haven’t seen anyone else discuss them yet, I thought I’d throw my own thoughts out there.

As we have seen in many star wars projects over the years, character names seem to be overwhelming literal, either revealing elements of their background, or foreshadowing their future (think how in Rebels, Kanan means ‘little wolf’, while his true name, Caleb, means ‘dog’, foreshadowing his link to the Loth wolves.)

Of course, we know that the clones either name themselves or have the name bestowed on them by their brothers (think of Echo getting his name). The trio of clones that we meet in Paths Unknown are named Deke, Stak, and Mox. There hasn’t been much information released regarding at what age clones typically receive their names, however in the Clone Wars episode Clone Cadets, we see Cutup take his name from a trainer who criticizes him for his attitude. As that episode focuses on Domino squad’s final training simulation before graduation, and that they all appear to be fully grown adult clones, it can be assumed that they are all around ten years old, the same age of most clones sent to war. Given that we see Cutup choose his name during this episode, and that Echo is struggling with his nickname and remembering Fives’ name, it suggests that Domino squad had only recently begun thinking about what name they would choose for themselves.

While we haven’t been given a definitive age for Deke, Stak and Mox they are all still clearly children. I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t even have names by the time they were taken off Kamino, and had to create names for each other while trying to survive on the planet they were stranded on.

To begin with Mox, his is the name I could find the least amount of reference for. There seems to be three possible interpretations:

Mox is a type of fuel designed for use in nuclear reactors.

Mox is a shortened version of moxie, meaning ‘energy, courage, and determination.’

Mox is the Latin word for ‘soon.’

I’m not overly drawn to the first idea, but I can understand the second - as Mox is clearly the eldest and protective over his younger brothers, I can see him taking a name which shows that side of his personality. I also see Mox as a direct parallel of Hunter; both are the eldest brothers of their respective groups, and are both incredibly wary of outsiders due to their need to keep their brothers safe.

However, I much prefer the third choice. The idea that Mox’s name means ‘soon’ can have both good and bad implications. For starters, Mox is clearly the most emotionally conflicted throughout the episode, unsure of his place on the mission, and of his place once they leave the planet. Hunter assures him that he has time to consider being something other than a soldier, and Mox offers his hand to Hunter. This action could be foreshadowing that soon, Hunter himself will be able to retire from this lifestyle, by finding Omega and Crosshair. Alternatively, Mox’s name meaning soon could be a very bad omen for the batch, as it could foreshadow the clone cadets being used as leverage against them (I’m thinking this could come into play when the empire attacks Pabu if the cadets are there).

Moving on, the word Deke was originally coined by Hemingway as a shortened form of the word decoy. We do not see him act as a decoy in any way during this episode, so I believe it is solely to foreshadow future events. Considering the many parallels drawn between Deke and Tech during this episode (e.g. Stak dubbing Deke ‘the smart one’ and Deke almost falling to his death in the base) his name meaning decoy only makes me more convinced that Tech is still around in some capacity (even if that capacity is just his body being used for cloning experiments).

Finally, Stak is most commonly considered to be an old version of the word stick, which makes sense when you consider the basic stick-based weapons that the cadets carry, and Wrecker’s first words to Stak and Deke when he meets them: ‘Blaster beats stick, kid!’ Knowing that the Star Wars writers love foreshadowing, this comment has me thinking things might not end so well for Stak. Interestingly, another link I found while researching this is that Stak is a common phrase in the Rogue Trooper series, in which a war is fought between facist Norts and democratic Southers (you can already see the obvious parallels to Star Wars here). In the series, in an attempt to win the war, the Southers create genetically engineered soldiers, but only one, known as Rogue, survives. Even more links involve one of the main stories of this series being titled ‘The Marauders’, and each one of the genetically engineered soldiers having a bio-chip in their body. While not a direct link, these coincidences do make me think there is a direct link between the two medias, it is possible that there is a fan of the Rogue Trooper series within the team behind The Bad Batch.

Either way, I’m very happy to finally be getting some explanation into what happened to the young clones who never saw the battlefield during the clone wars - though I am a little concerned that their worth being tied to their unexplored identity as soldiers could lead to them taking risks in further episodes in the hopes of proving themselves.